Six days on the south coast of Iceland, in the season the dark never comes.
Black sand and blue ice. Waterfalls you can walk behind. A glacier lagoon by boat. Long hikes under a sun that won't set. My camera, your hands, and four nights in a house on the edge of the sea.
This is the third year I've brought women here. I know exactly where the light lands now.
Together we'll be staying in a large home on the coast (with more than enough beds) as our home base for most of the trip..
On the last night, we'll stay in downtown Reykjavik in suites to explore the city.
Mild and moody. Think layers, not heat. It can be sun and wind and rain in the same afternoon. I'll send a full packing guide once you're in
Moderate. We walk, sometimes on uneven ground, sometimes for a while. Most of our excursions are minimal walking, but there are a few flat longer walks to expect.
No. I'm the photographer. And if you're willing to be in front of the lens a little, you'll leave with images of yourself in one of the most beautiful places on earth.
Yes. The midnight sun is real. It's one of the best parts.
Fly into Keflavík (KEF). I'll share arrival timing and logistics once you're confirmed so we land the group close together on day one. You are free and encouraged to extend your trip on either end if that's something your interested in, by even just a day. If you decide to do so, we'll connect the group early to plan with other attendees.
Yes! Think group text, packing lists, an app on your phone with all the info you need, and more!
I'm a photographer and retreat host based in Seattle. For the past seven years I co-led more than fifteen retreats across Iceland, Italy, Mexico, Puerto Rico, and the American West, alongside building a wedding and elopement photography practice. This is my first retreat under just my own name.
What I do well: I notice the small things. The light at 4pm, the moment a quiet woman is about to say something important, the place a photo wants to be taken. My work has always been about creating the conditions where the real things happen — and then being ready with a camera, or a question, or just a good seat by the fire.
I first explored Iceland solo by van in 2019, circling the entire country and noting my favorite spots to come back to. In 2024, I hosted my first Iceland retreat, bringing 12 women to see this beautiful country. In 2025, I came back with another group - hosting my first solo retreat.
Of everywhere I've taken women over the years, this is the one trip I keep returning to, and the country keeps handing me something I didn't see the year before. I've learned the road by now.
Which waterfall to save for late evening, after the tour buses leave and it's just us and the noise of the water. The pull-off most people drive straight past. The exact hour the ice on the black sand catches fire and turns to diamonds. You don't get that from a guidebook. You get it from going back, and back, and back.
In July, Iceland doesn't go dark. The light just thins out around midnight and pools again by two. You stop knowing what time it is. You start sleeping when your body tells you to and waking when the country is most beautiful, which is often at hours that would feel insane anywhere else.
Here's what I know from the last two groups. The glacier lagoon is the day everyone falls in love with. Ice the color of nothing else, seals surfacing between the floes, puffins overhead. Both years that was the day women cried, and not from sadness. The long drives turn into singalongs whether anyone planned them or not. One year a group talked each other into matching tattoos on the first afternoon. I don't schedule any of that. It just tends to happen out here.
That's the whole offer, really. A handful of days in a place so alive it rearranges your sense of time, with someone who knows where to stand.
Six days on the south coast of Iceland, in the season the dark never comes.
I can promise you the ice and the light and a week you'll keep telling people about. The rest, the part where something in you settles, that tends to happen on its own out here. It always has.
If it's calling you, the door is open.