Reykjavik Bear 2025 will mark the event’s fifth edition, and over the past few years it has grown from a local get together into a destination celebration that people talk about across Europe and North America. The first bears and friends came together in 2019 as a low‑key successor to the legendary Bears on Ice weekend. In those early days there were only a few dozen guests, but the mix of friendly people, cosy venues and Iceland’s spectacular scenery meant that everyone went home raving about it. When the pandemic put everything on pause the organisers, Bangsafélagið (Bears of Iceland), kept busy by planning an even more welcoming experience. By the time they welcomed visitors back in 2022 the community had almost tripled in size, and in 2024 the event was recognised by Bear World Magazine as the best bear event of the year. The 2025 edition runs from Thursday 28 August through Sunday 31 August, with optional add‑on activities before and after for those who want to see more of the country. It’s not a massive circuit party, and that’s part of the charm: you can actually talk to people, make friends and still feel human the next morning. The organisers cap ticket numbers and enlist volunteers so that guests never feel lost in a crowd. That said, the programme still packs in plenty of fun. A welcome party at Gaukurinn kicks things off on Thursday night. Gaukurinn is a quirky bar that has long been the heart of Reykjavík’s alternative scene, and on RVK Bear weekend it fills up with bearded men hugging friends they haven’t seen since last year. Later that night there’s an informal bar crawl along Laugavegur street, where groups drift between microbreweries, cocktail bars and a late‑night hot dog stand that locals insist is the best in town. Friday morning everyone piles onto buses for the Golden Circle tour. What might sound like a tourist cliché is actually an unforgettable outing: you stand in front of the thundering Gullfoss waterfall, watch the Strokkur geyser erupt and feel the earth rumble beneath your feet, then soak it all in at the Hvammsvík hot springs, a newer geothermal spa set in a fjord. The tour guides, many of whom are volunteers from the local bear community, make sure there are plenty of snacks and there’s always room for laughter on the bus. After returning to the city you get a little downtime to nap or wander before the Top Off party. That party, held at a warehouse‑turned club, has become legendary: the dress code encourages harnesses, kilts and other playful outfits, and the DJ keeps the dance floor moving until the early hours. People who would normally hide their bodies find themselves in a room full of acceptance and joy. Saturday starts slowly with brunch at a downtown café. It’s not an official event but half the participants somehow end up at the same place, nursing coffee and sharing stories from the night before. Later in the afternoon there’s an optional trip to Sky Lagoon, a modern geothermal lagoon with a stunning infinity edge overlooking the ocean. Guests talk about this being one of the highlights: floating in warm saltwater while the autumn light plays on the horizon creates a sense of calm that doesn’t always come with bear events. In the evening, the newly introduced Mr. Reykjavík Bear contest takes place at Húrra, an intimate music venue. Unlike other pageants, this one isn’t about perfect bodies or rehearsed talent routines. Contestants are judged on charm, authenticity, and how they embody the spirit of the event. In between rounds there are drag performances and live music. Afterwards, a second club night keeps the energy going for those who still have dancing left in their legs. Sunday winds down with a farewell brunch at the Kiki Queer Bar. There are no formal speeches but you can feel the sense of accomplishment and community in the air. People exchange contact details, make plans to visit each other, and there’s a lot of talk about coming back next year. Those who aren’t quite ready to say goodbye can join the optional Bearlesque show on Sunday evening or book an extra day trip to the famous Blue Lagoon on Monday. Throughout the weekend there are also informal happenings like queer history walking tours, visits to local museums and pop‑up workshops on body positivity and mental health. The organisers always remind participants to take care of themselves: drink water, respect consent, and look out for one another. What really sets RVK Bear apart is the way it weaves Icelandic culture into the festivities. Many visitors have never been so far north, and the organisers delight in sharing their city. They encourage guests to explore outside the official programme – maybe take a whale watching tour, hike to a volcanic crater, or simply wander around the colourful houses of downtown. The event coincides with the tail end of summer, so the days are still long but there’s a crispness in the air that hints at autumn. Packing layers, swim trunks and a waterproof jacket is essential. Local eateries offer everything from fresh seafood to vegan delicacies, and the coffee scene rivals any big city. The experience is also surprisingly accessible. Tickets include most activities and the organisers provide information about accessible routes, gender neutral restrooms and local support services. Language is rarely a barrier; everyone speaks English and there are always people willing to translate. Because Iceland is expensive, the website gives honest budgeting advice and suggests group house rentals to keep costs down. They also note that tap water is some of the cleanest in the world, so there’s no need to buy bottled water. As RVK Bear 2025 approaches, there’s already talk of what might be new. Rumours include a sea‑angling excursion, a workshop on queer Icelandic literature, and collaborations with local queer youth groups. Whatever the final programme looks like, the heart of the event will stay the same: a chance to connect with old friends and make new ones in a place where you can be unapologetically yourself. People come for the parties and the scenery, but they return because they find a sense of belonging that’s hard to put into words. When you’re floating in a hot spring under the midnight sun or dancing with strangers who suddenly feel like family, Reykjavík Bear stops being an event and starts feeling like home. Official Website

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