COOL ROCKS: THE SNÆFELLSNES PENINSULA
- Joelle McDonald
- Jul 7, 2022
- 10 min read
Snorrastadir Farm Holidays • Rauðfeldsgjá Gorge • Arnarstapi Cliffs • Valasnös Cliffs • Laugarbrekka • Lóngrangar Cliffs • Djúpalónssandur and Djúpalón Lagoon • Mosskogar Camping
Today is our last day in the wilds of Iceland. We find it hard to believe that our first leg of the trip is already almost over. It feels both like we have been in Iceland for a very long time and that we just got here. Today we will explore the Snæfellsnes Peninsula, commonly known as “Iceland in miniature” because it really does have everything Iceland has to offer. Waterfalls? Check. Glaciers? Check. Volcanos? Check. Cliffs, Puffins, Whales? Check, check, check. Game of Thrones Filming Location? Check!
We have four stops planned for today, though the peninsula has countless places worth exploring. You simply cannot see everything in a day. Our first stop is about an hour from where we camped last night, then each stop is about 6 to 8 minutes from the last until we drive the two hours to our campsite just outside of Reykjavík tonight.
Mystery Run
--- Map Point A ---
My runs here in Iceland have been a hodgepodge of magical hidden-creature dodging, laps around small parking lots, and man made paths. Today’s run was on a hiking trail on the farm where we camped. I had no idea what the trail went to, but there was literally nothing else here. I’m serious. Nothing.
The path started with a gate to the river running through the property and went along the babbling water. After a few minutes I was running through a lava field. To anyone who has never seen a lava field, I will describe it: Rocks. Lava rocks everywhere. Mossy ones, ones with grass between, a few sporting tree branches. But in summary, rocks. Though a trail was carved through the field (in one case literally carved, a massive stone had a lane cut through it) the trail was not exactly suited for running. The symbol of a hiker on the sign meant ‘Hey Joelle, this is a path meant for careful hikers’ not ‘Ehh, we just used a hiker symbol because we don’t get many runners, but you can totally run this trail’ as I had interpreted it. Nevertheless I used my youthful nimbleness to run anyway, dodging rocks left and right and constantly adjusting my path. Thank goodness for all those years of ski lessons that taught me to always think three turns ahead.
Eventually I reach a steep uphill and a decision: left or right. I go right first and run up a very small, volcano-crater shaped mound. It probably was a volcano crater. Here I am alone and the crater is small, so I run the perimeter quickly and go the where the left turn would have carried me. It ends up at the bottom of stone steps that have been carved into the mountain. I run up them, slowing where I predict running would be a bad decision, and shortly summit with burning legs and a pounding chest. Now this, THIS was definitely a volcano crater. The massive hole in front of me and drop behind me leaves no doubt. This crater’s rim is too thin (and roped off) to run, but I briefly soak it in and take a picture of the mother-adult son pair there with me before I head back down. The mother couldn’t believe I had made it across that lava field and around the other crater running. Same girl.
Rauðfeldsgjá Gorge
--- Map Point B ---
The drive to our first stop has been uneventful (except for a five minute stretch where both Hannah and I were gasping for air through the overwhelming smell of horse poop). About three minutes from our destination we see a tiny parking lot to the right and a trail of people leading up to the high cliffs above. Nearby is a sign with the point-of-interest symbol. Let’s go!
We pull into the parking lot with no idea what we are approaching. A sign posted at the start of the short trail tells the dark story of this stop:
“Bárður Snæfellsás, who was said to be half-man and half-troll, lived here with his voluptuous and handsome daughters near Laugabrekka in Hellnar at the end of the 9th century. His brother, Porkell, lived in Arnarstapi with his two sons, Rauðfeldur and Sölvi. One day when the cousins were playing by the shore, Rauðfeldur pushed Bárður’s eldest daughter, Helga, onto an iceberg and it is said she drifted all the way to Greenland. Helga was unharmed, but Bárður was so angry that he killed the brothers. He pushed Rauðfeldur into a canyon, which is now called ’Rauðfeldar Canyon,’ and he pushed Sölvi off the nearby Sölvahamar Cliff. After this incident, Bárður was said to go into the glacier and was never seen again.”
With that story in mind we head up to the canyon. Thankfully we are both wearing our Vessi shoes (our awesome waterproof sneakers, not sponsored but willing to be) so when we get to the top and realize we have to walk through a stream to get into the canyon we aren’t deterred. The canyon is difficult to describe in words, but I can say that had 10-12 year-old Joelle seen this there undoubtedly would have been a notebook with dozens of whimsical, half-written stories set here.
As we enter via stream, navigating around the dozen other people visiting at the same time, we see tight canyon walls reaching the sky on all sides. The gorge is narrow, apparently cut over millennia by the small stream flowing through the rocks today. There is no doubt that a push from the top on the canyon to the bottom could provide fatal vengeance for an accidentally-exiled daughter. There is a small rock bank a few steps past the opening of the canyon where we take pictures and wait for the people in front of us to come back from further up the stream. It is too narrow for easy passing. Eventually, we climb deeper into the canyon, the walls growing more narrow with every step. Below us is the stream—deeper here—and we are surrounded on all sides by imposing stone, a sliver of sky just visible above. We make it just a few steps further—to a three foot waterfall without solid handholds to climb—before turning. The footing past us is sketchy and we would rather not have our first aid kit.
Arnarstapi Cliffs
--- Map Point C ---
Our first planned stop brings us a little more on the beaten path. Hannah, who doesn’t usually know what we will be seeing on a given day, asks “What is this?”
“Cool rocks.”
“Oh, okay.”
The rocks are indeed very cool. Our first sight is the famous arch-and-hole sea stack. We have seen sea arches before, but this one is particularly mesmerizing, with powerful waves sweeping in and out of the arch. Further down the path we see other sea stacks in the water, countless. Alone they would be mildly interesting, but the cumulative effect is impressive. As waves break in helter-skelter patterns around the sea stacks, birds dot the air. They dive and glide, caw and crow. We find what looks like a little hole in the ground filled with rocks and get closer.
Our eyes deceived us, the hole is not little, but reaches all the way to the sea. Someday the land between the hole and the swirling sea may, itself, be a sea stack but humans probably won’t live to see the day. Inside the hole there is a city-like bustle, if the city were inhabited only by birds. Sure enough, the walls of the drop are 100% covered in nesting birds. Adults fighting over cliff space and babies squishing as close to the wall as they could, for fear of falling.
Very cool rocks.
Valasnös Cliffs
--- Map Point D ---
Next up, anther planned stop featuring… you guessed it! More cool rocks! We drive a few minutes up the road and pull into the tiny village of Hellnar. We follow a short, steep road to a beach unlike any we have seen before. Smooth, large black and white rocks devoid of tourists stretch from the path behind the beach to the water. Opposite us are tunnels borne into the cliffs, leaving a dramatic view of short, thin layers of rock packed tightly, curving and dropping. The geometry seems impossible from my eyes. How can unbent layers of thin rock curve so gracefully?
We take many pictures and just as we finished a hoard of tourists descends onto the rocks. Great timing on our part. Onto the next.
Laugarbrekka
--- Map Point E ---
Another random stop triggered by the symbol for point-of-interest: Laugarbrekka. This is a memorial to Guðríður Þorbjarnardóttir and was her place of birth around the year 1000. She is one of the most famous historical figures in Icelandic history: the first European to give birth in North America and the best traveled Icelandic woman into the 20th century. Her eight sea voyages took her to what is now Newfoundland Canada, Iceland, Norway, the UK, and Rome (on a pilgrimage). At this site, there are ruins and a statue of Guðríður Þorbjarnardóttir and her son. Only two other people are in the area. Clearly cool rocks draw a bigger crowd than thousand-year-old Sagas, but we enjoyed the peace.
Fun fact: Laugarbrekka is also the rumored former-home of Bárður Snæfellsás (from the Rauðfeldsgjá Gorge story).
Lóngrangar Cliffs
--- Map Point F ---
More cool rocks?! You bet. The massive rock formation is on the beach, the remains of an ancient volcano surrounded by mossy lava fields. It is widely believed that elves live in the area, so it has never beed touched by farmers. Upsetting elves wouldn’t be a wise choice. The rocks are impressively tall and just barely tainted by the strong smell of bird poop on part of the viewing trail.
Djúpalónssandur and Djúpalón Lagoon
--- Map Point G ---
Our final stop of the day, planned or unplanned. We came in search of Dritvik beach, but couldn’t find the trail to it, so instead go to Djúpalónssandur Beach and Djúpalón Lagoon just inland from the beach. We descend a long set of stairs winding through a field of towering lava rocks. The beach is a mix of small black pebbles and a smattering of larger rocks. At the start of the beach a sign is planted: “Test your strength. Do you have what it takes to be a fisherman from Dritvík?” Probably not for many reasons, but we continue reading. When a new member wanted to join a fishing boat here they had to prove their strength by lifting and placing on a platform four rocks on this beach. The lightest is about 50 pounds (“Weakling”), then 120 pounds (“Half-Carrier”), 220 pounds (“Half-Strong”), and finally 340 pounds (“Full-Strong”). Aspiring fishermen had to be at least Half-Strong to join a crew. I, of course, was ready to prove that I could easily lift the Full-Strong rock, but we couldn’t figure out which of the countless big rocks on the beach were the official strength test ones. They should really spray paint them or put them on little stumps or something. I settled on easily picking up a random rock that had to have been at least twice the weight of the “Full-Strong” rock. Right? Certainly. (Just roll with it).
Further down the beach a stark contrast reveals itself: orange rusted steel and black pebbles. In 1948 a British Trawler crashed here during a storm and only five of the 19 man crew survived. The remains of the ship have washed up on the beach over the years and have not been moved as a memorial to the fourteen lives lost here on that fateful night and in honor of the efforts of local rescue teams to save those five lives. It is eerie, but the most raw memorial of a tradegy I have seen: simply untouched, unfenced ruins, respected and undisturbed by the beach’s millions of visitors over the past 74 years.
Further inland, but in line with the beach, are two crystal clear, shallow pools glimmering turquoise in the early evening sun. There is a bit of bustle back here, but that is by rural Icelandic standards. There are, perhaps, eight people other than us. Most are here together, a few adults and their kids, who are changing into their bathing suits. Hannah and I are in disbelief. This water must be freezing. The only warm water in Iceland is heated by geothermal activity, which is not happening in these pools. The first girl walks into the water unfazed. The three other girls behind seem a but more hesitant, but all touch the water in some capacity. On our walk back to the car Hannah and I dip our hands the other pool’s water and confirm our expectations. It is freezing.
Back in the parking lot, a tour bus has parked just a few meters behind us (the picture makes it look like there was more space between the bus and the car than there actually was). Without a backup camera, I stand outside the car to guide Hannah’s 9-point turn out of our parking spot with no vehicular casualties. She had to get so close to the bus that the back corner of our car was basically inside the bus’s open door. Yes, the bus driver watched her carefully back out for about a minute before disappearing.
Mosskogar Camping
--- Map Point H ---
Tomorrow is our last full day in Iceland and we are spending it in Reykjavík. To give us the most time tomorrow we decide to drive to a town about 20 minutes outside the city to camp (all the sites in the city are full). We arrive at what is, perhaps, our cutest site. It is an organic farm surrounded by trees with the kitchen in the geothermal-heated greenhouse.
We blindly trust Google Maps to get us where we are going in one piece, which is not always the best option, but here, where all the roads are paved and well maintained, we have no doubts. As we make a left turn toward the end of our drive we pass sign after sign, all in rapid succession, telling us clearly very important information, all in Icelandic. Well, hopefully none of that applied to us or is too important. We then descend into a tunnel. Descend. We drive down a moderately steep slope for a very long time and grow increasingly confused. That’s when our ears begin to pop. I look at Google Maps and it has us placed smack dab in the middle of the fjord’s ocean. “Are we under the ocean right now?” Hannah looks at me. “Ummm… it looks that way,” I respond. Sure enough we begin ascending just moments later, after a very short stint on level road and emerge to see a fjord immediately behind us. Well that was confusing and cool I suppose.
When we arrive we are told all the sites are full, but we can camp in the parking lot for the night. No electricity, but a place to sleep. We pay (cash only!) and set up our van. After dinner (Patagonia rehydrated Chili) we lay down in the back of our van to watch Eurovision Song Contest: The Story of Fire Saga. It is set in Húsavík, the town where we did our whale watching tour, and we remember it being hilarious. Our van was full of laughs and giggles for the entire movie. It was a great way to celebrate our last night in the van.
Movie over and foggy eyed, we bundle up for the night without a heater (we even broke out the rain pants) and snuggled in. The midnight sun watches over our van as we drift from consciousness.
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