As soon as I’d decided to fit Iceland into my Europe trip, I started getting served adverts and posts for the Laugavegur Trail.

I’d originally thought I’d drive around the whole island, which can take about 7–10 days depending on your speed. It can also cost a lot of money. I hadn’t ruled it out completely, but the more I saw of the Laugavegur, the more I wanted to do it.

The Laugavegur is a roughly 54-km trek through southern Iceland, running from Landmannalaugar to Þórsmörk. I found a self-guided package online that included bus transfers to and from the start and finish, four nights’ hut accommodation and luggage transfers between the huts.

Guided tours were roughly double the price. If that wasn’t enough to put me off, I also didn’t particularly feel like being restricted by having to travel as a group.

I managed to get the last spot available in the huts.

Camping is an option too, but then you have to lug everything with you – tent, cooking stove, food, clothes and all the rest – and I wanted to make things a little easier on myself. 

As it was, I’d already had to bring a heap of cold-weather clothing to Europe specifically for this trek. I needed to be prepared for torrential rain and strong winds, very different from the warm European summer I’d been enjoying.

Landmannalaugar Hot Springs

On Monday morning, I got to Reykjavík’s BSI Terminal very early with my backpack and duffel bag loaded with clothes, freeze-dried meals, chocolate and toiletries, then hopped on the bus for the roughly four-hour trip to Landmannalaugar.

Most of the journey was along the highway before we turned onto gravel roads and headed into the Highlands.

We arrived around lunchtime to clear blue skies and unexpectedly warm weather. Landmannalaugar is a popular destination, not just with multi-day hikers but day trippers too. There were tents everywhere, hut accommodation and even a café inside an old bus.

The highlight, though, is the natural hot spring right there beside the campsite.

Within about 15 minutes of arriving, I was in the water, trying to find exactly the right temperature. Too far from the source and it went lukewarm; too close and your skin melted.

But floating around in a hot spring beneath a beautiful blue sky, about to embark on a four-day hike through Iceland, was heaven.

I couldn’t splash around all day, though, so eventually I forced myself out, changed, had some lunch and set off.

There’s a street in Reykjavík called Laugavegur and the joke from locals is that they’re not sure whether the street or the hiking trail is busier.

They weren’t wrong.

For the first five or six kilometres, the trail was heaving with people. Slow-moving people. I weaved around them as best I could, trying to get out in front until eventually I was more or less hiking by myself.

The landscape was already spectacular. Lava fields, meadows, giant mountains, glaciers, rivers and bubbling geothermal springs. It just went on and on.

I won’t, though, except to say that throughout the entire trek I was continually blown away by what I saw. My eyes could barely take in the variety and sheer scale of it all. That alone made the trip worthwhile.

The first day was 12 km and took me about four hours to reach Hrafntinnusker, where I’d be staying that night.

I checked into the hut and was allocated one of the floor mattresses upstairs. I was a little surprised; I’d thought there might at least be a bunk (though these were downstairs). Instead, the mattresses were side-by-side in pairs, which felt a little intimate with people I’d never met.

I just hoped whoever chose the mattress beside me wasn’t much of a snorer.

Cave of Wonders

When I checked in, the warden mentioned there were some nearby hikes if I was keen. Once I’d dumped my backpack and found my duffel bag, which had been transported ahead and left downstairs, I went back to ask him about them.

“Oh, there are a couple of ice caves about 45 minutes’ walk from here,” he said.

Excuse me?

Ice caves?

Hell yeah!

I’d wanted to see one while I was in Iceland but hadn’t done anything about arranging it. Turns out they pretty much came to me.

The warden gave me directions that involved following the yellow and blue posts, then the yellow posts – I think – before crossing a glacier and then I would “see them when I see them”.

I set off, slightly concerned that I might never make it back alive.

But the directions turned out to be solid.

Crossing the glacier was a little scary. I hadn’t brought my walking poles with me and the ice sloped gently before suddenly becoming much steeper, so I completed part of the descent sliding on my arse.

I wondered how the return journey was going to go.

And then, suddenly, the ice caves.

Fortunately I hadn’t come off the glacier directly on top of them because there was a sudden drop. Instead, I approached from the side, scrabbling down rocks past bubbling springs, streams and Icelandic sheep until I came around to the great gaping maws of the caves.

They were magnificent.

The first was the most spectacular because it was darker and more enclosed. I could see light at the back, so I continued through a dark tunnel until I emerged at another entrance.

I was in awe.

I was also slightly terrified that at any moment the roof might collapse on top of me.

It was raining inside the cave, so quickly was the ice melting. I could barely bring myself to speak louder than a whisper. The colours, the shapes, the sheer strangeness of standing inside this thing – and I was completely alone.

I loved it.

The second cave was much more open and the rain inside much heavier. Giant chunks of ice lay on the ground where parts of the ceiling had already collapsed. I didn’t stay inside for very long, especially after noticing a huge sheet of ice had partially detached from one wall and probably wouldn’t be staying there forever.

Once I’d taken my fill of this literal cave of wonders, I headed back.

The glacier was slow going, but I made it. On the way I met a couple heading down and gave them directions, assuring them it was absolutely worth it.

Back at the hut, I told a group of guys from Nebraska about the caves. Apparently the warden hadn’t told everyone they were there.

They enjoyed my photos, though.

That evening – such as it was, with the sun setting so late – I heated up my freeze-dried meal, treated myself to some chocolate, wrote in my journal, read my book and went to bed early.

One day down.

And somehow I’d already soaked in a hot spring, crossed a glacier and crawled inside melting ice caves.

Not a bad start.