Harmony Retreat Lodge: A glass cabin in Iceland where the storm is the view

A two-hour drive southeast of Reykjavik, Harmony Retreat Lodge is a glass cabin facing open tundra, waterfall and whatever Iceland’s sky decides to send. Here, floor-to-ceiling windows on three walls and a glass ceiling dissolve any boundary between inside and out

My book doesn’t stand a chance. It rests beside me on the bed unopened as sleet taps against the glass walls. What started as rain shifts quickly to sleet, then hail, then snow and then sleet again. The changing weather becomes hypnotic, impossible for me to look away. 

This isn’t luxury accommodation as you might expect. These words often suggest a night away, staying somewhere hidden among trees, deep in a valley or beside a still lake, where warmth comes from a fireplace and evenings revolve around fine dining. In Iceland, luxury feels different. I’ve counted down the days to this stay, drawn to the idea of a different kind of luxury. 

Hidden in plain sight

Harmony Retreat reveals itself gradually. The drive follows a narrow black gravel road lined with tussocky grasses and moss still holding on to winter. Spring has technically arrived, but colour hasn’t followed just yet. The landscape is still muted in tones of brown and grey-green.

Then, without a grand announcement, the cabin appears. One side is clad in dark timber that mirrors the tones of nearby lava fields and black sand beaches. At just 26 square metres, it doesn’t attempt to dominate its surroundings.

I push open the heavy timber door and the warmth is immediate, a significant contrast to the 1 degree outside. Inside, the space is minimal. A king-size bed with soft linen, a handcrafted timber table for two, a kitchenette, and a bathroom with a waterfall shower and blissfully heated floor tiles.

But the main pull of this stay is that it is, in fact, a glasshouse. Floor-to-ceiling windows cover three of the cabin’s four walls. Above, a glass ceiling removes the remaining boundary between inside and out.

Outside, a dark wooden deck extends towards a hot tub and sauna. There’s no outdoor table setting; the design is restrained, allowing the landscape to hold your attention without competition.

Off in the distance, beyond the tundra, Seljalandsfoss, the famous waterfall, spills over a 60-metre cliff. Hundreds of visitors gather by its base every day, but from here it looks untouched. I have the waterfall all to myself.

Designed for proximity

Luxury here isn’t defined by space but by deliberate proximity. There is just enough room to move around the bed. Positioned barely 30 centimetres from the glass wall on either side and at its foot, it creates almost no separation between inside and out. Block-out blinds line the sides of each window, though the ceiling remains uncovered. A provided sleeping mask sits unused beside the bed. It feels counterintuitive to close myself off to the outside world.

Off in the distance, beyond the tundra, Seljalandsfoss, the famous waterfall, spills over a 60-metre cliff. Hundreds of visitors gather by its base every day, but from here it looks untouched. I have the waterfall all to myself.

Whether not spectacle

I arrived with a clear image in mind: a quiet night, still air, and the Northern Lights dancing across the glass ceiling. Instead, a storm arrives. The wind howls across the open tundra with nothing to slow it down. It hits the glass loudly and insistently. It’s impossible to ignore. What I had imagined as a calm, meditative evening becomes something far more physical. Sleep comes in fragments. I drift in and out as each gust of wind hits, the rhythm unpredictable yet constant.

At some point, I stop waiting for the weather to pass. I let my hope of greenlit skies fall away and am instead replaced by my fascination with movement; the rain, the sleet, the snow and the wind. I’m cocooned in warmth, while still being in the centre of it. Unexpectedly, I love this wilder, messier version of my stay. It’s a richer experience than the quiet and gentle one I’d first imagined.

Luxury in less

By morning, everything softens. Weak light filters through the clouds, condensation gathers, and sleet clings to the glass ceiling before sliding down the windows in slow, uneven lines. Luxury here isn’t about what is added, but what is removed – distraction. When it’s time to leave, the black gravel road is covered in a fresh layer of snow, and driving our rental car along it feels like we’re intruding, returning stillness to movement. I think again about the book I’d planned to read during my stay. Not a single page was turned, and that is perfectly okay.

Journey Notes

Harmony Retreat is located a two-hour drive southeast of Reykjavik, with two lodges available. Rates start at AU$1,300 per night.

In winter (October to March), a 4WD is required to reach Harmony.

harmoneyretreatlodge.com