I was experiencing a strong bout of deja vu as we renavigated the iconic Ring Road of Iceland. In fact, this was the very same route I had taken six years prior. But even with the familiar scenery, so much had changed. The most striking difference being the people. Back then, the road felt like it was mine, and mine alone. Every stop – whether at waterfalls, volcanic craters, or glacier trails – was an intimate experience, shared in solitude with nature itself. I assumed this isolation was due to the season, but every local we met on this latest trek confirmed that Iceland was currently undergoing a massive tourism boom. This time, in September 2024, it was apparent we would be forced to share this prestigious venue.

Even with the influx of visitors, Iceland’s power was far from diminished. The country remains a place of jaw-dropping beauty – above and below the water. From the capital’s wildlife access, like whale watching and puffin spotting, to the south’s sprawling landscapes of glaciers and volcanic activity, the island’s wild spirit is still alive and well. It’s a country that has so much to explore, no matter how many times you’ve been around the Ring Road.

On my first trip to Iceland, I hadn’t planned to dive the Silfra Fissure, but this time, it was non-negotiable. Silfra is one of those iconic sites that sits atop every diver’s bucket list, and for good reason. The chance to dive between two tectonic plates – North America and Eurasia – is as surreal as it sounds. The clarity of the glacial-fed water, combined with the sheer uniqueness of the site, makes it spectacular no matter how experienced a diver you are. Searching Silfra Fissure online results in an abundance of articles and photography. And during our research, one photographer had stood out among the rest: Byron Conroy.

His uncanny ability to capture such unique underwater perspectives, unlike many others in the world, had left us intrigued. And so I dove deeper into Byron and discovered a legend – an accomplished underwater photographer, global adventurer and pioneering explorer with a deep passion for frigid waters. Meeting him quickly became a cornerstone of our expedition trail. We wanted to experience Iceland through his lens, to venture beyond the well-trodden Ring Road into the hidden places that only someone with his knowledge could share. And Byron delivered – snowstorm et all.

Our game plan was to meet Byron and a colleague of his named Erlendur (Eli) Bogason of Strýtan Divecenter to see beyond what the internet has to offer when it comes to diving in Iceland. Eli and Bryon had been working together to document the elusive wolffish in the second largest city of the country, found in the far north, called Akureyri. Eli serves as its long-time local expert (born and raised in Iceland), while Byron serves as its underwater content creator with his expert knowledge on the conditions that come with Icelandic diving. Together, their combined expertise made them a force to be reckoned with. While we planned to witness this dynamic duo in action underwater firsthand, that didn’t exactly go according to plan. 

Iceland’s diving conditions are as unpredictable as the island itself. No matter the season, you’re at the mercy of its ever-changing weather – a phenomenon amplified by climate change. As we journeyed west to north, what had been calm and picturesque to start gave way to relentless winds and seasonally early snowstorms. It became clear (and unfortunate) that the ocean would be off-limits for our entire two-week expedition leg. Faced with these challenges, we had no choice but to pivot and embrace the unpredictability of the adventure.

Instead of diving the waters, we dove into some local lore with Eli, Byron, and other Icelanders who had made their indelible mark on the culture here. For starters, we toured Eli’s dive centre, which was more like a museum of epic proportions, documenting what a lifetime of diving Iceland looks like in the form of gathered artifacts. What we couldn’t see in the water, we were seeing on display, painting the picture of just how wild and raw it is below the surface. Both Byron and Eli gave us play-by-plays of next-level encounters they’ve had diving the farthest corners of Iceland – places that few have ever seen. And all the while, we found ourselves wondering: how did Byron’s journey start in the first place?

As a six-year-old in the UK, he spent hours with his father catching freshwater species to stock their home aquarium. That fascination carried into adulthood when his saltwater aquarium became a personal project – and a gateway to something bigger. It didn’t take long for him to decide he wanted to see these animals in their natural habitat, rather than merely marvelling at them from behind glass. After some quick online research, he booked his first-ever dive in the Maldives. The result? A manta ray encounter during a Discover Scuba Diving session that changed everything. Within three months of returning home, he sold everything he owned, quit his job, and moved to Mexico to become a divemaster.

In Mexico, Byron’s passion for diving only got stronger. A six-month training program turned into hundreds of dives and certifications that launched him into a career of exploration. From there, he worked in Australia aboard liveaboard dive boats, juggling roles as both a chef and a divemaster. This unconventional arrangement allowed him to spend time diving for fun in his off-hours, further fuelling his hunger for underwater adventures. It was during this phase that he became interested in technical diving and cold-water environments. The next stop? Iceland – why not right!? This is where he planned to hone his drysuit diving skills for a year before moving on to technical training in Malta. But Iceland had other plans for him – same for us all! 

“I ended up falling in love with the place,” Byron shared, now ten years into his life on the island. He quickly became immersed in Iceland’s small but tight-knit dive community, a group of about 20 truly active divers who tend to stick to what they know. Byron, however, wasn’t content with the familiar. He began venturing out and exploring, uncovering new dive sites and piecing together Iceland’s underwater stories. His explorations led to remarkable discoveries, like the remains of a whaling station in the Westfjords, complete with the sunken hull of an early 20th-century ship and skeletal whale remains scattered across the seabed. 

For all the diving that Bryon has tackled in Iceland’s waters, he’s still inspired by the vivid, unaltered beauty of the Silfra Fissure. Byron bought his first professional underwater camera for this very reason. “There was no one else here with a professional-level camera,” he explained. Early on, he reached out to famed underwater photographer Alex Mustard, who shared an entire catalog of his Iceland photos and encouraged Byron’s budding career. Over the years, Byron’s photography has evolved into a vital part of his work, gracing magazines, documentaries, and expedition guides. And his skills and knowledge isn’t something that he hides and keeps to himself. He’s a huge supporter of teaching others the skill, the way he was encouraged when he was just getting started, with Silfra still being his muse.  

Today, Byron balances leading multi-day dive expeditions across Iceland for a company called Arctic Adventures, while teaching underwater photography to up-and-comers hopping the globe. What drives him most is helping others experience the underwater world’s magic for themselves – whether it’s through expertly composed images or transformative diving experiences. “What’s the point of taking all these incredible photos unless we have people to show them to? It’s all about opening other people’s eyes to these remarkable places, like mine have been over and over again, no matter how many dives I’ve done.” Byron said. For him, sharing his work is to inspire others to care about the underwater world, to explore it, and ultimately, to protect it.

That’s why Byron and his friend of the north, Eli, are collaborating on a short film about their beloved wolffish, aiming to spotlight a species that’s been long misunderstood. Often dismissed as mere bottom feeders, wolffish are so much more – resilient creatures with unique behaviours that are vital to Iceland’s marine ecosystem. Byron has a way of turning even the most unsuspecting subjects into something worthy of our care and protection. And Eli has a way of getting close to marine species through a lifetime of studying them. Through their film, they hope to inspire a new wave of awareness and action for this fascinating species, sharing its story with a broader audience who might otherwise never give it a second thought.

After spending the day navigating Eli’s artifact collection, Byron casually mentioned we hadn’t seen the best yet. Moving from the top floor of the dive centre to a warehouse next door, we were greeted by something we’d never expected – a massive Greenland shark skin, carefully preserved and hanging on display. The shark had washed ashore dead and he and a neighbour had painstakingly worked on deskinning the animal. The goal? To create one of the first displays like this of a Greenland shark’s skin, giving a rare, up-close glimpse of one of the ocean’s most elusive and ancient creatures.

Across the room hung another striking display: the skin of a polar bear. The bear had drifted north to south from the Arctic on an iceberg, a rare occurrence likely exacerbated by the shifting climate. Tragically, it had to be euthanised as it couldn’t survive in Iceland’s habitat, nor could it be safely relocated. While the story was heartbreaking, it also showed, in the skin, the reality of a changing world – one where even polar bears are finding themselves far from home. In true form, Eli and his network of preservationists seized the opportunity to learn from this extraordinary event. They worked meticulously over weeks to preserve the bear’s remains, collaborating with scientists to better understand the creature and its voyage.

Eli’s neighbour, who often handles animals that can’t survive due to injury or other circumstances, lent her expertise in preparing the bear’s skin for preservation. Seeing these relics in person – artifacts of nature in both life and death – was a reminder of Iceland’s raw, untamed wilderness. It was an opportunity to stand face-to-face with animals most people would only encounter in the pages of a textbook or through a distant lens. Here, in this remote corner of the world, it was as if the boundaries between human and wild, land and sea, history and future, were momentarily dissolved.

The rest of our time in Iceland was spent weaving through snowstorms, chasing fleeting breaks in the weather to search for whales, immersing ourselves in the traditional culture of the highlands, and hiking glaciers with Byron and his colleagues, witnessing firsthand the stark impacts of the climate crisis. Against all odds, we managed to have a single dive at Bryon’s local site, Silfra Fissure – a small victory that kept our connection to the underwater world intact, even as other dives in the north remained out of reach. As we packed up and looked ahead, we knew this wasn’t the end of our story with Byron. Whether in Iceland or another far-flung corner of the globe, our paths would cross again, drawn together by the unrelenting pull of exploration and the shared commitment to protecting the world’s most wild places.