It was 4am when I was awoken by the sun piercing through the gaps of my camper van curtains. Craig and I rented the tiny home-on-wheels for our 11-day road trip around Iceland – clearly, we needed to figure out a way of blocking the light. 

I needed more sleep so I repositioned my eye mask and tried to doze off again, but it was useless – the campground was home to squawking arctic terns that turned out to be a very effective alarm clock. 

They’re a pretty bird, white with red beaks but they’re notoriously protective in their nesting areas and just going to the campsite toilet was scary as they screeched loudly and dive-bombed us. 

It was a busy campsite so we decided to leave first thing and find a scenic spot by the sea to make some breakfast. Seals rested on the seaweed-covered rocks and a traditional Icelandic church was behind us – along with some lovely red Elf Houses which are built throughout the country to respect the elves, or hidden people as they call them. 

After our bellies were filled we headed to a hot spring with a twist – it was a mud-pool filled with 39° geothermal water. 

It was a really fun roadside attraction, set on the grounds of one of Iceland’s first ski lodges. The lodge has since closed but new owners are in the process of getting things up and running again – starting with the thermal pools. 

Before going into any hot spring in Iceland there are strict rules to have a shower first – not just a courtesy spray of water, but a full shower where you’re naked and use soap. I loved this rule for a couple of reasons A) It meant the pools were more hygienic, and B) I got a free shower instead of paying for one at a campsite. 

There were two mud pools filled with grey, silty water and I wearily stepped into the hotter one, unsure of how deep it would be, but my foot soon squelched into a thick layer of mud. 

A sign boasted the mud’s health benefits which helped put me at ease, so I sank into the murky depths, letting the grey water cover my body. 

Just behind the mud pools was a short boardwalk leading past bubbling mud pits and steaming vents. It became evident that most visitors pulled up for a walk and skipped the hot spring, which we found crazy as the entry fee included both sights. 

The owner of the complex built a black fence around the pools for a little privacy and wind protection. But one whole section had a gigantic window, about three meters wide to give people walking to the volcanic sights a chance to see the pools and get enticed in. 

So while we relaxed in the pools and let the mud turn crusty on our faces to enhance the health benefits, tourists would occasionally stroll past the window and stop to stare at us. 

I began to feel like an animal in a zoo, with kids tapping the glass to get our attention. Luckily most people quickly scurried off and we were left in peace again like a couple of happy pigs taking a mud bath. 

After an hour of basking in the hot water, we figured we should probably make a move. We drove through a beautiful landscape where steam billowed out of vents and horses galloped across lush meadows. 

We planned to go on a hike to a ‘hot spring river’. I knew it would be a popular sight but I was surprised to see quite how many people were happy to do the 9km return hike, usually that’d put a lot of people off. 

So we followed the folks uphill, past waterfalls and along a steaming river until we reached the main zone where stones had been placed to create perfect little pools to soak in. 

There was a boardwalk running alongside the river and a couple of interesting wooden walls shaped like an X so that four people could use a corner each to get changed in. 

It didn’t actually offer much privacy because it was completely exposed but in theory, you could at least bend down with your butt to the wall while you pull your undies up, for a little bit of privacy. 

It was a great concept but as we walked along the boardwalk we were greeted by a rather unexpected sight. 

A 6ft tall man wearing just a fleece top and nothing else was bent down, revealing his entire arse and balls to everyone on the footpath. To make matters worse he spent a long time in that position as he was helping get his kid dressed. Kudos to the chap for putting his kid first but I can’t imagine having time to put just one piece of clothing on and choosing a top. 

It reminded me of a podcast I recently listened to though; the hosts were laughing about how you feel more naked if you’re naked but wearing shoes than if you’re just naked and barefoot. Maybe the man felt fully dressed with his torso covered. 

The river was pretty busy and each idyllic spot was taken by people so we continued upstream, searching for a more private area. 

We wound up at the end of the valley with steam covering the hillside and warning signs that the water was 100° which scrapped any plan of finding a hidden pool for ourselves. 

Before we reached the crowds though we tested a few areas of the river without any people, cautiously dipping a finger into the water and hoping it wasn’t scalding hot. Craig started with his hand, then his feet, moving the water around to mix the hot and cold before he felt brave enough to sink his body in. 

I have a very vivid imagination so I began laughing out loud at the disturbing pictures in my mind – of Craig saying “It’s quite hot but you get used to it” while flesh is melting off his body and floating downstream – nothing left of his legs but bones. 

I joined him in the river but it very much felt like a hot and cold tap was battling against each other. When it felt too chilly I’d wave my hands around to try and move some of the hot water my way, only for it to feel like a freshly boiled kettle had been added. 

It wasn’t exactly a relaxing experience so we grabbed our things and walked downstream. The spot we chose had a few people in it but at least the temperature was consistent, almost too hot for me and I began to crave a cold plunge pool. 

Instead of a cold dip we cooled off in the blustery wind, I guess that’s the perk of the water being so hot – we weren’t in a frantic rush to get changed. 

The hike back to our camper van was all downhill and interspersed with picking wild blueberries along the way. We had about 18 hours of daylight so there was plenty of time to explore and more sights to see so we hit the road. 

The sun had been in and out all day but in the early evening, it dominated the sky – just in time for our first Icelandic waterfall. The country has over 10,000 waterfalls and I think we might’ve accidentally started with the best one. 

As we walked closer to the gushing veil of water a vibrant rainbow appeared in the mist. I was already impressed but the fun part about this waterfall was the trail that led behind it. 

With full waterproof gear, we began walking almost under the thunderous falls, watching the glorious sunshine beam through the water and cast the most beautiful golden light. 

We were absolutely soaking wet but beaming with joy as we made our way (unknowingly from our angle) under the rainbow. It felt like we’d been transported into a kids’ fairytale book. 

But things were about to get even more impressive because just a short 500m stroll away was a second waterfall nestled at the back of a canyon. 

We needed to rock-hop our way through the stream and towards a wall of mist, painted with a vibrant rainbow. When the canyon opened up the waterfall was revealed, cascading down a moss-covered wall. 

There was a wide gravel area at the bottom with a huge boulder which Craig eagerly climbed up. It was next to impossible to capture any photos due to the droplets covering my lens but I got a couple before Craig insisted I join him on the boulder. 

“Climb up! You have to see this!” He said with water droplets cascading down his face. 

I clambered up the slippery side of the boulder and looked back up the canyon where we’d come from. Mist filled the air and the sun pierced between the canyon walls, creating the most magical sunbeams. If it wasn’t so damn wet we’d of spent a lot longer gawping at the sight. 

Craig and I have always said we’re not ‘waterfall people’. We like them but we don’t seek them out unless they’re said to be really special, because we find they often look similar to one another. 

But these waterfalls were different. The sun was perfectly positioned to create a mystical scene that didn’t even look real.  

With the sun heading for the horizon we did a final drive to a black sand beach, brushing our teeth as we took an evening stroll on the windswept coast before getting some rest, ready for another day exploring Iceland.