The Snæfellsnes peninsula in western Iceland is said to be ‘Iceland In A Nutshell’ with plenty to offer, from waterfalls and churches to seals and glaciers. 

But whenever I saw Snæfellsnes written on a map or a blog post I just scanned my eyes over the word – too afraid to say it out loud. In fact, that became a bit of a trend in Iceland – the words just looked too complicated for my little brain to figure out. For example, one canyon we visited was called ‘Fjaðrárgljúfur’.

Anyway, it sounded like an intriguing place to visit, so Craig and I decided to detour there on our road trip around the country. 

We woke to the sound of rain tapping on the metal roof of our micro-camper. It wasn’t exactly idyllic weather, but our first sight of the day was a hot spring, which could still be enjoyed in the rain. 

We veered off the main road and onto a pothole-ridden dirt track that made us very uncomfortable. While we purchased full coverage insurance for our camper van, no policy would insure damage to the undercarriage or to a door blowing in the wind. So I winced as we zigzagged our way along the track, trying to avoid the deepest holes. 

The gravel road widened out into a parking area where we set off on foot, towels in hand, towards the hot spring. 

We hadn’t walked far when we reached an obstacle along the track – an ice-cold river that we had to cross. There weren’t any rocks to hop over so we took our shoes off and waded through the chilly water. 

Once we made it to the other side, we found the hot spring hiding behind a stone wall. It was just a small hole in the ground, encircled by rocks and containing slightly murky water. 

It almost resembled a well that was filled to the brim with water. I’m sure we all have the same opinion about wells – that their creepy as hell, and not something one would choose to enter. 

I was all hyped up and excited though as we had the place to ourselves, so I nominated myself to go in first. Craig began filming me on my iPhone as I got ready to enter the pool, but I couldn’t do it. The water was really opaque so I couldn’t tell how deep it was. 

What if it were an infinity hole, continuing down into the pits of hell? Even just 30 meters deep was a horrifying thought, and there was no doubt in my mind that prehistoric creatures lurked in the depths. 

My imagination was far too vivid to deal with such a situation, so I put my Birkenstocks on in the hope that having something on my feet would give me confidence, but it didn’t help. 

I’d already let the image of giant squid and angler fish creep into my mind, so I gave up and told Craig that he could be the first guinea pig. 

It quickly became evident that he too was afraid of the unknown. He nervously began dipping his leg down a few times, sinking it lower with each lunge, but he still didn’t touch the floor. 

We both began giggling at how silly we were being.

Eventually, Craig realised he could rest his arms on the back wall, and his feet opposite, almost lying flat in the water. It seemed like a good compromise, so I joined him. 

It wasn’t exactly a relaxing position and after a while our arms began shaking from holding our bodies up. There’s nothing quite like going to a calming geothermal pool and feeling more tense and exhausted afterwards!

As Craig was repositioning himself a wave of panic washed over his face. “What?!” I asked with concern – he had such a scared look on his face. 

He waited a second before saying “Ah, it’s fine, I just accidentally touched the floor – turns out it’s just a gravel floor.”

We both roared with laughter at how scared we’d been, and how we could literally stand up as it was only about 5ft deep. 

In the distance, we spotted some tourists walking towards the hot springs, but not to the one we were at. 

They all aimed for a steaming pipe that projected hot water onto the shores of a lake, about 100 meters behind us. There were some rocks placed in the shallows to create pools to lounge in, but we had yet to go over there. Instead, we were happily bobbing in our private well, like we were the main ingredient in a witch’s cauldron. 

It was funny because there was a stone wall around us, which kept us entirely hidden so no one knew our hot spring existed, or at least if they knew about it, they couldn’t find it. We were giggling away like a couple of kids playing hide and seek as we peered through the little gaps in the stones, taking it in turns to commentate what the tourists were doing.

After sufficiently soaking ourselves until we looked like shrivelled up grapes, we reluctantly decided to hit the road, especially as the rain had stopped. 

We made sure to walk via the hot pipe and see the pools in the lake, but they weren’t very appealing. The water was far too hot and the pools were extremely shallow with a muddy floor. We could even see deep footprints in the clay-like mud where people had sunk down.

We felt a bit like sheep as we drove along the south coast. Everyone stopped at the same sights so faces quickly became familiar. 

There were walks to gushing waterfalls, narrow, mossy canyons and beaches home to seals. One highlight though was an unusual black wooden church which looked very Icelandic. 

The scenery at each sight was nice, but we preferred just driving through the landscape, seeing the mountains rising to our right and the ocean to the left. 

The biggest mountain was enshrouded in a heavy blanket of cloud which hid a glacier from sight. But below the cloud were grassy hills, painted in colourful minerals which gave them a peachy hue. 

One of the beaches we stopped at had a strange sort of inland lake which turned a fabulous blue colour when the sun shone on it. The rusty red remains of a shipwreck were strewn across the back of the beach, offering those who trip over it a compulsory tetanus jab. 

We much preferred the north coast of the peninsula, but maybe it was due to the sun coming out. We stopped at a fabulous red and white church where mountains dominated the backdrop, and further along the road was a sight that wasn’t on other tourists’ radar. 

It was a shipwreck washed up on a beach and before I’d taken a single photo of it Craig had started climbing up the wooden structure. 

The scene was rather comical as he kept slipping down the wooden panelling. It felt like I was watching an episode of Wipe Out where contestants have to complete an obstacle course. He repeatedly slipped down like the walls and rope had been coated in oil, but eventually he made it to the top where he was able to live out his childhood dreams and run around a ghost ship. 

We ended the day at the peninsula’s most famous sight, Kirkjufell, a pyramid shaped mountain rising from the sea. It was an incredible sight and one I’ll share more about in the next post.