Key takeaways
- The breakwater shields nesting cliffs from Atlantic swells, letting puffins breed safely while boats access the same waters where sandeels gather each tide.
- Puffins nest on the headland above while fishing boats work the harbour below, sharing one stretch of coast without conflict for generations.
- Local vessels target sandeels, the small fish that puffins also hunt, making the harbour and colony dependent on the same seasonal abundance.
- Viewing platforms and stairways allow visitors to observe nesting birds without disturbing them, engineering the boundary between human and wild.
- This remote fishing village endures Atlantic storms thanks to harbour walls that protect both boats and the cliff face where birds return each spring.
Why Hafnarholmi Became a Harbour
Borgarfjordur Eystri's working harbour sits on Hafnarholmi, a headland in northeastern Iceland where fishing boats and puffin colonies share the same stretch of coastline. The site was chosen for the same reason the puffins chose it: shelter. The headland juts into the fjord at an angle that breaks the worst of the North Atlantic swells, creating a pocket of calmer water where boats can land safely and nest burrows remain undisturbed by storm surge. The harbour grew gradually through the 20th century, expanding from a simple anchorage into a functioning commercial port with breakwaters, slip roads, and modern moorings, yet the puffin population here has remained stable for decades.
The village's economy has always depended on what the boats bring back. In summer, when this tour arrives, Hafnarholmi is at its busiest: fishing vessels come and go with the tide, crews work the docks, and the smell of salt and diesel hangs over the waterfront. The puffins, meanwhile, tend their burrows on the slope above, largely indifferent to the activity below. This coexistence is not accidental. The harbour's design, and the restraint shown by the village, have made it possible.
What the Boats at Borgarfjardarhofn Land
The fishing fleet operating from this harbour targets species that change with the season. In summer, the boats pursue capelin, a small silvery fish that migrates into coastal waters to spawn. They also fish for Arctic char in the fjord's deeper channels, and year-round they work for cod, haddock, and other groundfish on the continental shelf beyond the fjord mouth. The catch is landed at the dock, where it is sorted, iced, and either sold to processing plants in larger towns or exported directly to markets in Europe and beyond. A single boat might make several trips a week in peak season, each one carrying tonnes of fish.
For visitors on this tour, the working harbour offers a rare glimpse of commercial fishing as it actually happens. The crews here are not performing for tourists; they are working under real time pressure and real economic constraints. If you watch closely during the 5-hour excursion, you may see boats returning with their catch, or crews preparing gear for the next day's departure. This is not a museum display of fishing heritage, but a living industry that keeps the village of Borgarfjordur Eystri alive through the long, expensive winters of the north.
Fishing boats moored metres below active puffin burrows on the nesting headland
Sandeels: The Food Chain Puffins Depend On
Beneath the visible world of boats and breakwaters lies a smaller one that determines whether puffin chicks survive to fledge. Sandeels are thin, bottom-dwelling fish no longer than a pencil, and they are the staple food of puffin chicks in northeastern Iceland. An adult puffin must catch dozens of these fish each day during the breeding season, flying back to its burrow with a beakful of prey to feed its single chick. The sandeel population in Icelandic waters fluctuates year to year, driven by water temperature, plankton availability, and currents. When sandeels are abundant, puffin chicks grow fat and strong. When they are scarce, chicks starve.
Climate change has already altered sandeel distributions around Iceland, pushing them deeper or further offshore, forcing puffins to work harder for the same meal. The fishing industry and the puffins are thus in competition for the same resource, though their timescales differ vastly. A fishing boat targets mature fish measured in kilograms; a puffin seeks juveniles measured in grams. The harbour at Hafnarholmi exists in this tension, dependent on fish stocks, as are the birds that nest above the dock.
How the Breakwater Shelters the Nesting Slope
The breakwater at Hafnarholmi serves a dual purpose. Its primary function is to protect moored boats from heavy seas and storm surge, but in doing so, it also shelters the steep, grassy slope where puffin burrows are concentrated. The structure runs roughly north-south, angled to intercept the dominant wave direction from the northwest. Behind this barrier, the water remains relatively calm even when Atlantic gales are running, and the shore itself is protected from the erosive force of winter storms. Without the breakwater, the slope would receive the full force of the waves, destabilising burrows and exposing chicks to the elements.
The breakwater was not built with puffins in mind, but its presence has allowed the colony to remain in place and breed successfully while human activity intensified around it. The structure is made of large concrete blocks set into the seabed and anchored with rip-rap. It requires regular maintenance, especially after severe winter storms, but it has proven robust enough to last decades and protect both the commercial fishing operation and the bird colony that shares this headland.
Platforms and Stairways: Built for Visitors
The viewing platforms and stairways that allow tour groups like yours to approach the puffin burrows without disturbing the birds were installed gradually over the past 15 to 20 years. The wooden boardwalks are routed around active nesting areas, keeping visitors at a distance that puffins will tolerate. Local authorities and conservation groups collaborated to design and build these pathways, recognising that managed tourism could provide economic benefit to the village while protecting the colony. The platforms are raised above the slope, so foot traffic does not compact the soil around burrow entrances, and they are positioned to give visitors clear views without requiring them to scramble across nesting habitat.
Maintaining these structures is a year-round task. Winter storms damage railings and treads, and heavy use during the brief summer tourist season can loosen bolts and boards. The village invests in repairs because tourism, including birdwatching tours from the cruise ship terminal at Seydisfjordur, has become an important income source. Without the platforms, mass visitation would be impossible without harming the birds. With them, the puffins and the tourists can coexist, each unaware of how much the other's experience depends on careful infrastructure.
Winter Storms and How the Village Endures
Borgarfjordur Eystri sits on the edge of the North Atlantic, roughly 25 kilometres southeast of Seydisfjordur, exposed to gales that can deliver sustained winds above 100 kilometres per hour. Winter storms are not rare; they are routine. Snow can isolate the village for weeks, and the combination of heavy precipitation and storm surge tests both the fishing fleet and the physical infrastructure continuously. The breakwater bears the brunt of this assault, and so does every building anchored to the slope. Many older houses here have been reinforced with steel cables and deep foundations precisely to survive these seasonal battering.
The village survives winter by maintaining community infrastructure, stocking supplies before autumn, and investing in reliable power generation and water systems. The fishing industry is also seasonal; many boats do not operate in the worst months, and crews accept that income will be uneven. Tourism offers a supplementary revenue stream during the brief, calm months of summer, when cruise ships call at nearby Seydisfjordur and passengers book excursions like this one. The puffins, meanwhile, have abandoned their burrows and returned to the open ocean by autumn, where they will spend the winter at sea, returning to land only when spring brings longer daylight and warmer water. The cycle repeats every year, shaped by the relentless rhythm of the North Atlantic climate.
A Headland Where Work and Wildlife Coexist
Hafnarholmi is not a pristine wilderness, nor is it a museum frozen in time. It is a working place where people earn their living from the sea, where birds nest in burrows dug into the same slopes where human infrastructure sits, and where the two communities have negotiated an uneasy but functioning peace. The tour from Seydisfjordur gives you 5 hours to explore this dynamic, moving by coach through the Northeastern Region to visit not only Hafnarholmi but also Lindarbakki and the remote beauty of Gufufoss waterfall. Your guide will explain the ecology and history of this coastline, and the viewing platforms will bring you within metres of puffins that seem entirely unbothered by human presence.
This coexistence is fragile and depends on active choices: the restraint shown by fishers and villagers, the investment in platforms and pathways, the monitoring of fish stocks and bird populations, and the acceptance by both humans and puffins that this headland must serve multiple purposes. When you stand on Hafnarholmi and see fishing boats moored in calm water, burrows dotting the slope above, and a breakwater holding back the Atlantic, you are witnessing not harmony, but negotiation, and the result is worth witnessing.
