After returning from hiking the Laugavegur on Friday, I spent the weekend in Reykjavik working on an assignment that was due early Monday morning. Having to sit inside while looking out the window at bright blue skies was a bitter pill to swallow, so I made plans to spend Monday and Tuesday exploring the Snæfellsnes Peninsula.

Fortunately, I made excellent progress on the assignment, which meant I could go out for a bit on Saturday night and finally experience the very quiet Kiki Queer Bar, the world’s northernmost gay bar. I spent a few hours chatting to a couple from LA before heading home. On Sunday, I finished everything off and submitted the assignment, giving me time to meet an Icelandic local for a walk and a drink, again blessed with beautiful sunshine.

Still, I missed the open expanses I’d seen on the Laugavegur.

So on Monday I picked up my hire car: the smallest and cheapest one they had available. It struggled even on the flat, let alone trying to get up mountains, but it saw me through the next couple of days.

I set off for Búðir first, stopping along the way to see Bjarnarfoss waterfall first, then the black church of Búðir. Busloads of people were around, so it was a very quick stop.

I’d been told by two separate people how pretty the walk between Arnarstapi and Hellnar was, so that was my next destination. I parked the car, selected my route and set off. The weather was lovely, warm enough for shorts and a tank top.

I did a loop through lichen-covered extinct lava fields and meadows before coming out at the coast at Hellnar. There, I had a coffee and a slice of skyr cake – hideously expensive, but a special treat.

The café was also beside a little rocky cove, which I explored after I’d eaten. There were huge basalt columns and an arch, beneath which many, many seagulls were nesting. What struck me most, however, was the way the ocean had smoothed the shelf of rock coming out of the water as far as it could reach, while beyond that point the rock twisted into jagged lines. Smooth to sharp. It was fascinating.

From there, I walked the coastal road back to Arnarstapi, a busy route with tourists – everywhere’s busy in Iceland – stopping to take photos of the cliffs and the natural windows formed in the rock columns.

Beautiful hike.

Next stop was the lookout at Lóndrangar, followed by a trip to the black-sand beach at Djúpalónssandur. The rocks and pebbles had all been smoothed into different shapes and sizes, creating different sounds underfoot as I walked towards the water. I hadn’t brought my bathers, but I put my feet into the chilly Atlantic anyway.

After that was a quick stop at a crater, which was less impressive than the beautifully engineered staircase they’d built leading up to it. The crater was mostly filled in, with no steam – and definitely no lava – coming out of it.

There wasn’t much else I felt like stopping for on the way to my accommodation at Olafsvik. There were perhaps a couple of museums in the towns along the way, but I wasn’t really in the mood for them.

My room at Hotel Vest Mar was really good. I’d been worried about finding somewhere decent while looking for hotels, as much of what was available was either ridiculously expensive or had terrible reviews. I took a gamble on this place, but it turned out to be really nice. The room was huge, with two double beds, and very comfortable.

Didn’t need much else.

The town of Olafsvik has a waterfall in it – Bæjarfoss – so I headed up there, careful not to lose my footing. I’m sure someone would have found my body eventually.

That evening I treated myself to dinner at Matarlist: a seafood mosaic salad, a fish main, dessert and a Spritz made with local rhubarb liqueur. It was all delicious, even the bread and butter. 

I entertained myself during dinner by observing the tables around me and noticing who was talking and who wasn’t.

The parents and kids at a nearby table had various exciting things about their trip to discuss. Two couples travelling together at another table were excited about the drinks. The guy in a couple behind me was extremely particular about his meal and made the waiter’s life hell.

Meanwhile, the middle-aged couple over my right shoulder said almost nothing to each other the entire time and were gone before I’d finished my starter.

I’ve become much more aware on this trip of long-term couples who seem to have very little to say to each other. I know I was guilty of it too, but now it really stands out: that slightly awkward way they avoid eye contact, bodies turned a little away from each other, searching for something in the distance. Sometimes there’s a phone involved as a distraction, but otherwise there’s nothing.

And I know there doesn’t always have to be conversation. Comfortable silence is a thing. But a lot of what I’ve noticed seems to come with a sense of unease, of perhaps knowing there should be conversation but not being able to figure out what to say. Even if they were each reading a book, it might seem more relaxed. Then again, what are you meant to talk about?

Perhaps that says more about me than it does about them. It looks uncomfortable, though.

A lot of people seem to have a fear of eating alone in restaurants. I’ve found it not in the least bit scary and, in fact, quite relaxing. That dinner in Olafsvik was a good example of it.

Olafsvik to Reykjadalur Hot Springs

The next day I set off for Kirkjufellsfoss, which was just down the road. The nearby Kirkjufell mountain is featured in Game of Thrones as some sort of location, so the area gets quite popular.

There weren’t too many places to stop after that, and I was a little glad of it.

One of my original ideas for what to do after the Laugavegur was to set off on the Ring Road. I’m glad I didn’t.

The Laugavegur had been so spectacular that I almost didn’t want to overwrite the memory of it so soon. Doing the Ring Road might also have felt like a tick-box exercise with a time limit, zooming around Iceland trying to see everything. Already, my couple of days on Snæfellsnes were starting to feel a little like that.

So after the waterfall, I took the road less travelled around the edge of the peninsula, almost careening off it at one point because I got distracted by the view.

I could look at that landscape forever.

Part of me wants to.

I could imagine just staying there, looking at the mountains and doing absolutely nothing. All drive would leave my body and I would simply disappear into it.

Sounds like heaven.

But maybe it’s not for me just yet.

I finished my lap of the peninsula and, with time to spare, headed back towards Reykjavik and then on to Reykjadalur Hot Springs so I could soak in another natural spring, this time outdoors.

I’d been to Reykjadalur with Glen in 2018. It involves a roughly 45-minute uphill hike past bubbling sulphur pools to reach a running creek of hot water that’s safe to get into. 

Back then, there was no proper car park and only a handful of people there in the middle of summer. The boardwalk had already been installed, however, helping limit damage to the banks and providing somewhere to change.

This time, I arrived to find a massive new car park full of cars – paid parking, of course – along with a giant food hall and a zipline business.

The hike itself was still the same 45 minutes, but there were way more people. I thought getting there at 3:30pm might mean fewer crowds, but apparently not. Strangely, though, when I finally reached the river, it wasn’t anywhere near as full as I’d expected. Certainly not as full as the car park suggested it should have been.

But I’d made it, and I got to soak in several spots of varying temperatures for an hour or so.

Despite the crowds, it was still heavenly, and it marked a wonderful end to my time in Iceland.

That night I stayed near Keflavik Airport in a very small town. I went for dinner at a nearby restaurant, driving through thick fog that had rolled in off the ocean.

I wondered if I’d died and was now on the other side.

There was the possibility of Northern Lights that evening, and I was awake while it was dark enough to see them, but the cloud cover blocked any chance.

Alas, seeing the Northern Lights in Iceland remains something I’ve yet to do.

Much like seeing a moose in Canada.

But there’s always next time.

And I’m glad I didn’t try to cram in another seven to ten days driving the Ring Road. I want to save that for another trip.

Because I’m sure I’ll be back.