The bus back to Reykjavík wasn’t due to collect us until 3pm, which meant we had almost an entire extra day in Þórsmörk. Four of us – Jack, Summer, Tomoki and me – asked reception to recommend a hiking route.

They gave us one that was a little more challenging than what the guided groups were doing that morning. Our route wasn’t strictly marked on AllTrails or on the maps we had, but eventually we managed to find it.

And we were extremely glad we did.

The Laugavegur itself ends in Þórsmörk, but hikers can continue towards Skógar along the Fimmvörðuháls trail, another roughly 25 km through the mountains between the Eyjafjallajökull and Mýrdalsjökull glaciers.

We obviously didn’t have enough time to hike all the way to Skógar and get back before our bus, but we could explore the first section. So we headed up.

The views were spectacular.

The path took us higher and higher, with viewpoints over the valley below and towards the glaciers beyond. Eventually we reached a plateau and found the narrow path we’d been told to take back down.

It crossed a spine of rocks before turning into a steep, scrabbly descent that was harder than almost anything we’d encountered on the official Laugavegur.

The views, however, were beyond belief. So much so that we became emotional just looking at them.

Mountains.

Rivers.

Valleys.

Glaciers.

Great expanses of green, white, grey and black.

Although it technically wasn’t part of the Laugavegur, this may have been the most beautiful and overwhelming section of the entire experience.

Down we went until we reached the river, then followed it back towards Básar, chuffed with what we’d accomplished that morning.

It was made even better by the stunning weather. The trek had ended as it began, with clear skies and warmth.

Back at the hut, we still had time to kill, so we had lunch, played cards, chatted and had a few more drinks.

By this point, us self-guided hikers had formed our own little group.

We were all glad we’d chosen to do the trek independently. We hadn’t been restricted by a tour group, could leave whenever we wanted and stop whenever we wanted.

But we’d also found people to meet at the end of each day, swap stories with, play cards with and occasionally hike alongside.

Getting to do this final random hike together was a real bonus.

The bus arrived at 3pm and carried us out across the volcanic landscape, its interior inexplicably overheated.

Eventually we reached paved roads and sped towards a petrol station, where we transferred to another bus for the final journey into Reykjavík.

We arrived at around 7pm. The adventure was over. 

Returning to civilisation was surprisingly depressing.

Not that Reykjavík is exactly Tokyo or New York, but suddenly I was surrounded by buildings again, blocking all those enormous views I’d spent days staring at.

Worse, I had to return to working on an assignment that was due a couple of days later.

When I’d booked the Laugavegur, I’d been concerned that the hike was going to be a real slog. Surely there was something I was missing. After all, around 54 km spread across four days didn’t seem like an enormous distance, even with longer days thrown in.

And really, it wasn’t that difficult.

There were some climbs and descents, river crossings and a few scrabbly sections, but most of the trail was easily manageable.

Had it poured with rain for four straight days, I might have had a different opinion.

My feet were also killing me by the end thanks to multiple blisters.

Then there was the accommodation.

Sleeping side-by-side with strangers wasn’t always my idea of a relaxing night. But having a warm hut waiting for me each evening – and not having to carry a tent, stove and everything else I would have needed to camp – was amazing.

I wouldn’t rule out camping another time, but this was my first multi-day hike and I didn’t have all that equipment with me in Iceland. I’m glad I chose the “soft” option.

Blisters and bunk beds were a small price to pay for what I got in return.

Writing these posts almost two months later has given me a chance to relive just how extraordinary the experience was. Every day brought something different. The landscapes changed constantly and there was always something new to gawp at.

And while I spent a lot of time arguing with ghosts inside my head, going around in circles over things I couldn’t change and occasionally wishing things had been different enough for my ex to have been there – he would have loved it – I was happy on my own.

Happier than I expected.

I probably shouldn’t have doubted it.

Iceland always delivers.