After spending the day gawping at house-sized icebergs floating in lagoons, we realised time had blissfully slipped away. We were in a national park so we had to drive 100km to a campsite and the sun was already low on the horizon. 

It’s illegal to wild or free camp in Iceland, which was a shame as we love the freedom of being able to pull up somewhere in the wilderness and enjoy the sound of nature instead of other humans. 

But alas, that wasn’t allowed so we had to join the hordes of summer tourists and go to an official campsite. It was frustrating paying so much money for basic sites where they had two toilets shared between 50+ people. 

The drive was beautiful though with a golden light hitting the glaciers and bouncing off the sea in an eye-watering glare. 

By the time we turned off the main road and rumbled down a dirt track, it was almost midnight and the sky was dark, but not pitch black as the sun would be rising again at 4am. 

The ‘campsite’ was just a car park filled with rental camper vans. There were two showers with a constant queue, two toilets, and that was about it. 

It was a stark contrast to the campsites we’ve used in the USA, Canada and Australia, where everyone gets a designated pitch. 

I knew it wouldn’t be a great campsite, but the reason I chose to stay there was because of the location. It was set on a private piece of land, which is standard, of course, but this land stretched down onto the dramatic Stokksnes peninsula, which offered one of Iceland’s most beautiful views – and the entry ticket was included in the camping fee. 

As soon as we woke up we started the engine and used our ticket to open the barrier where we drove towards the sea along the otherworldly peninsula. 

Most people seemed to be having a lazy start so it was lovely and quiet. Within just a minute of driving, we had to pull over and soak in the unreal landscape. 

The charcoal coloured Vestrahorn mountains rose up and down like shark teeth, and while they’d be an impressive sight on their own, we had the opportunity to see them reflected in a vast pool of shallow water. 

It was a strange area, kind of like a wetland behind the beach, but there wasn’t any plant or animal life, it was just a thin layer of water covering the black sand.

The scenery didn’t look real, as if aliens had abducted us and we’d woken up on another planet. There wasn’t a farts wind, which is rare in Iceland, so we were treated to a perfect mirror-image. 

Craig carefully began walking across the shallow water and then stood still for a minute until the ripples had dispersed and it looked like a miracle was taking place. 

I feel like we missed a photo opportunity of him wearing a long white robe, depicting a scene from the Bible. But alas, this was a modern-day miracle and Craig was wearing a bright orange Gore-Tex jacket. 

We’d left in a hurry to beat the crowds but our bellies were beginning to rumble with hunger so we looked for a scenic spot to park up and make some breakfast. We found a perfect place above the black dunes that rippled down towards the beach. 

Craig opened the back doors of the camper van and began to prepare porridge on our little gas stove. Luckily we’ve lived in tiny campers like Trudy before so he’s a master at one-pan cooking.  

When the porridge was ready I covered them in sweet syrup, bananas and peanut butter before taking them to the front seats of our car – aka the dining room and lounge. Craig passed our coffees through so I could place them in the cup holders, and then it was time to enjoy breakfast with our million-dollar view. 

Feeling ready for a day of adventures we packed everything away and stretched our legs on a lovely stroll across the beach.

A bizarre, grey landscape surrounded us, which caused me to rub my eyes in confusion, as if there was an issue and I was only seeing the world in monochrome.

The weather was calm on our visit, but I could imagine it being a brutal and unforgiving place during a winter storm – sand blowing across the beach in strong wind can feel like you’re being stabbed by thousands of needles. 

We were a few hundred meters away from the sea, yet in the sand ahead of us was a whale carcass. It was partially covered by the sand with leathery skin wrapped around the rib cage, almost preserved by the harsh weather. 

The huge skull bones were completely exposed, resembling the shape of a raven’s beak, but hundreds of times bigger. It seemed a rather fitting resemblance, with ravens often depicting death in horror movies. 

There was one more sight I wanted to see along the peninsula and that was a Viking Village. Not a real one, but a replica that was built for a movie that never ended up being filmed. 

Sitting beneath the steep peaks was a cluster of wooden houses with turf roofs. It’s a shame the film wasn’t made as it would have been interesting to see people dressed like Vikings in that exact spot, bringing the whole scene to life. 

After a few very fun hours exploring what felt like another planet, we began driving back to the main road. The sun was starting to make an appearance, enhancing the colourful minerals that were scattered across the sheer mountains. 

It was a slow drive along the dirt track as we stopped regularly to gawp at the view. A still bay was to our left, reflecting the distant mountains that were covered in glaciers, like a birthday cake that had been left in the sun and was oozing with melted icing. 

Vertical scoria slopes rose beside the road and all the tourists in the area were buzzing with excitement, filming the landscape on their iPhones and setting up their tripods. 

There’s something about the sun coming out that makes everyone happy, and while I could have spent the entire day admiring the dramatic landscape, it was time to see more of Iceland. 

So, we hit the road until it was time for a lunch break. We ended up in a little seaside town which had two shops selling rocks and minerals found across Iceland. We stopped at one as I find things like that quite fascinating. The owner was very proud of his collection, taking us to his garden to reveal the endless rows of rocks. He told me to take a photo of one of the stones, and then proceeded to spray it with a hose, revealing a kaleidoscope of colours which would be visible if the rock was polished. 

At the back of the village was a lighthouse – it was actually the main reason we stopped in the area. In Iceland, most of the lighthouses are bright orange, so they stand out against the dark, volcanic landscape and this one instantly gave me Wes Anderson vibes. 

We ended the day by driving along fjords with jagged peaks, making occasional stops to take photos. One village we stopped at had a colourful harbour reflected in the calm sea, dramatic mountains, and a quaint blue-roofed church. 

The tall mountains continued to skirt alongside us as we wound our way towards a campsite – which was a vast improvement from the car park the previous night. We had a great view of the layered mountains and it was still calm weather which meant we could comfortably cook and eat outside. What a perfect way to end another beautiful day in Iceland.