The RIB cuts loose from Dalvík harbor and the mountains lean in, as if the fjord itself is narrowing to watch. Cold spray tickles the face; the boat’s suspension seats hush the impact of waves so the ride feels urgent but not punishing. In two hours you can cross the wide throat of Eyjafjörður, eyes scanning for the telltale exhale or a spray that ghosts across dark water. The speed is part of the point—this is whale watching with forward momentum, designed to reach deeper, quieter pockets where whales, dolphins and seals congregate.