The Westman archipelago in southern Iceland is home to Heimaey, an island that’s said to resemble a miniature version of the country. It’s only small but it features volcanoes, mountains, cliffs, beaches and a bustling harbour. I instantly added it to the list of places I wanted to visit on our road trip around Iceland. 

We rented a camper van but the island was small enough to walk around so we saved ourselves a lot of money by leaving it at the port. The journey to Heimaey was extremely scenic as we travelled past some dramatic islands with sheer cliffs and grassy tops. On each island was a lone house, I assume the back side of the island had an area without cliffs to reach the house – otherwise it’s helicopter access only. 

One of the islands has become quite popular on social media as people say it has the loneliest house in the world.

As we got closer to Heimaey, steep golden cliffs towered to our right. Puffins were zipping through the sky and bobbing in the sea, and ahead of us was a red, volcanic landscape. 

I had a lot planned for our day trip and the first activity was a hike up a mountain. I knew it would be a bit of a sketchy route, with ladders to take us up the vertical sections, so I wasn’t sure how I’d cope. Just a few years ago I was fearless, but after one bad incident, I’m a trembly mess whenever there’s exposure. 

Craig went ahead, climbing his way up the ladder and from the top he admitted it was a bit scary. That was enough for me to know it was worth skipping. I didn’t want to get into a panic at the top and struggle to get back down, so I picked a different hike to do nearby. 

Luckily it turned out to be a blessing as the route we took was an absolute cracker. We ended up standing on a ridge, looking down the cliffs where puffins swirled below us, silver fish dangling from their beaks. 

I’d planned on doing another hike to a puffin viewing area but at this rate, it wasn’t needed, we had enough of them zipping around to keep us more than entertained. 

It was a lovely viewpoint so we stopped for some coffee and birdwatching. Craig lay on his belly with his head peering over the edge so he could watch the puffins landing in their nests. 

The ridge-line was really impressive as it curved around and climaxed in a pointy, rocky peak that rose from the carpeted green slopes. 

In the distance, we could see that the sky was filled with puffins. It almost looked apocalyptic with how many there were, so we decided to continue hiking towards them.

The steep grassy slope was covered in nesting puffins. I snorted a little giggle of satisfaction because now we didn’t have to do the extra hike to the puffin viewing area – we’d already found an abundance of them and we had the whole place to ourselves. 

I was enjoying trying to capture them flying, which always looks like chaos as they flap frantically. When they come in to land they outstretch their orange feet in anticipation, a look of sheer panic on their clown-like faces as they approach land.

They have pretty impressive stats though, flying up to 88kmh and diving 60m in search of fish. Yet somehow, even with those athletic feats, they have a very clumsy air to them, which just adds to their charm. 

I once heard someone describe puffins as wind-up toys wearing tuxedos, because their mannerisms on land are very stiff.

We didn’t see any baby puffins, known as pufflings, but once they start shuffling out of their nests the locals have to go on patrols to find stranded ones. Apparently, they get confused by the village lights resembling the moon and they fly towards the houses instead of the sea. 

Locals team up in the mornings to collect the stranded pufflings and carry them in boxes to the nearest cliff. After a few enthusiastic swings, they release the birds from their hands. Apparently, this is the best way to help them fly, otherwise, they just clumsily walk over the cliff edge. 

Unfortunately, it began raining which put a dampener on our day – excuse the pun. Luckily we spotted a refuge from the rain in the shape of a lone wooden cabin built on a piece of land that jutted into the sea. It was an unexpected sight in such a wild area. 

We managed to stand under a slightly overhanging roof to eat our lunch but the rain was getting worse so we had no choice but to walk back down and leave the magical green slopes behind. 

By the time we reached the bottom of the mountain, we looked like a couple of drowned rats that had been swept down a river. 

We began to play a game of ‘take shelter and then make a run for it’ and we found ourselves hiding inside a wooden ticket booth, beneath the roof of a Viking house, and under a metal shelter in the football stadium. Much to my relief the weather system seemed to blow north, giving us a window of opportunity to hike up Eldfell volcano.

We began making our way up a steep volcanic slope covered in red scoria. To our right was Helgafall Volcano, wrapped in a grassy coat, it was formed 5000 years ago and has been peaceful ever since. 

Eldfell, however was created just 50 years ago when an eruption caught the locals by surprise on a cold January night. 

Locals were awoken by a fissure that opened up close to the centre of the town, growing 3km long and spewing lava up to 150 meters into the air. 

Luckily the weather had been bad the day before so all of the fishing boats were in the harbour and the locals were able to escape in the middle of the night. 

I can’t imagine what it must’ve been like leaving on one of those boats and seeing the island where you live resembling an exploding firework factory. 

Within two days the lava accumulated so much that it created a 100m tall cinder cone, which is what we were walking up. 

Many houses were destroyed, some from the lava and others from the weight of the ash and rocks on the roofs, which was five meters deep in some areas. 

It took five months for Eldfell to end its fury, but there are still areas of the cone that are hot enough to bake bread today. 

The hike was really beautiful, I loved the intense red colour of the ground and the view across the entire island was incredible, with low lying clouds drifting around the peaks. 

It was the perfect way to end our day and see the dramatic rainbow landscape that was created by the very volcano that we were standing atop. Wow – Mother Nature sure had a blast when she created Iceland.