An early start had us arriving at a unique sight before anyone else. After 15 minutes of walking along a rocky riverbank, through a lush green valley with low-lying cloud clinging to the peaks, we got sight of the oldest swimming pool in Iceland. 

It was constructed back in 1923 so kids could be taught how to swim, but nowadays it’s a place anyone can visit for a free swim in geothermal water. 

In 2010 a volcanic eruption in the area filled the pool with toxic ash and it wasn’t reopened until the following summer. The crazy thing is the pool was originally built in just two days, so it must have been in an awful state for it to take a year to just clean the pool after the eruption. 

The setting was truly wild, it didn’t seem right to find a swimming pool nestled at the back of a valley, but there it was. A little building at the back of the pool housed a changing room, but it had sadly been used as a rubbish bin by disgraceful tourists. 

Craig jumped in first, giving me a heads-up that the floor was extremely slimy. It was coated in a layer of algae, so as the pool went deeper the water became murkier and soon enough I couldn’t see what was below me. 

I didn’t feel comfortable swimming out of my depth, not knowing what was beneath me so I stayed in the shallow section, which was a shame because the hot input pipe adding water to the pool was placed at the deep end – which meant the rest of the pool was like a lukewarm bath. It was a fun experience though and nice that we were able to have it to ourselves. 

Feeling refreshed, we hit the road. It was due to rain most of the day and the forecast was pretty damn accurate. We didn’t have time to wait around for better weather so we had to continue sightseeing. 

One thing that’s easy to visit in the rain is a waterfall, particularly Skógafoss which was just a short walk from the car park. It’s one of Iceland’s most popular waterfalls, plummeting 60 meters down. 

It was so powerful that water was spraying everywhere, causing everyone standing near it to feel like they were having some sort of outdoor shower experience. 

There were a lot of people standing at the end of the trail but we rock-hopped along the edge of the river and arrived on a gravel spit where we could get a view of the falls without any people in the shot. The only problem was that it was so damn wet I could barely take my camera out for a photo. 

A series of steps led us to the top of the waterfall where we were able to watch it plummet over the edge of the cliff, without getting drenched. 

When we walked back to our camper, we noticed someone had accidentally driven forward, instead of back – resulting in their car sitting on the edge of a steep grassy bank. 

It was a young guy, who was scratching his head and trying to figure out how the fuck to get out of the situation. In an ideal world, a group of burly Viking ancestors would have turned up and offered to push it back. But alas, that didn’t happen and instead of calling for help and getting towed back, he opted to give reversing a go. 

It was uncomfortable to watch as the car did the opposite of what he’d hoped, slipping further down the hill as the undercarriage crunched on the ground. He then thought driving forward would solve everything, but the hill was so steep that he basically drove his bumper straight into the ground, as we stood there wincing, unable to help. 

Feeling extra paranoid about driving a rented vehicle, we precariously set off, driving along the wet roads towards our next sight, Reynisfjara beach. 

It’s probably Iceland’s most famous black sand beach, with cliffs made up of basalt columns and jagged rock formations rising from the sea. 

The beach sees thousands of tourists and to be honest, I didn’t really get the hype. It just felt like a beach covered in big tour groups. But we walked further along the tiny black pebbles, wandering into a cave where we could see the underside of the columns, and to the end of the beach where we watched waves crashing against the rocky shoreline. 

The cliffs above us were home to nesting puffins who were flapping in the sky above us as they headed for the sea to do some fishing. Capturing them in the rain was impossible though as I couldn’t aim my camera up without it getting covered in water drops. 

Reynisfjara is also famous for its ‘sneaker waves’ which catch countless tourists out, regardless of the warning signs. These waves seem to come out of nowhere and are powerful enough to knock people over, and sadly drag them out to sea, resulting in lost lives. It would be a brutal area to get swept out, the waves are sloshing about vigorously and it would be impossible to get close enough to safely throw in a lifesaving ring. 

Even being fully aware of the dangers we were caught out a couple of times, having to frantically run up the beach to keep our feet dry. 

Near the beach was a cute traditional church which we stopped to photograph from the car window, and around the headland was the popular town of Vík, home to another, larger church that sat on a hill. 

We had one more sight planned for the day; Fjaðrárgljúfur canyon, which became so overrun with tourists back in 2018/19 that it had to be closed off multiple times to help the landscape recover. Now there’s a designated trail to follow and all of the precarious ledges to take photos have been closed off. 

It was an interesting sight, with the serpent-shaped canyon featuring sheer rocky walls and a mossy top. Waterfalls gushed over the cliffs which added plenty of water to the blue river that flowed through the canyon. 

Not too far away was a very cheap campsite – by Icelandic standards at least. It was just a gravel car park but it had some nice views of the steep green cliffs and there was a waterfall nearby, which made for a nice after-dinner stroll and the perfect way to end another action-packed day in Iceland.