Northern Snæfellsnes Peninsula.
Kodak Portra 400 // Hasselblad 500 CM
The Snæfellsnes peninsula was such a magical place, that I didn't want to leave without seeing as much of it as possible. I took a day to drive through the little towns on the north coast, starting with Grundarfjörður. To get there, I passed through a lava field where it was rumored that two Berserkers were charged with the task of cutting a pathway through the lava, as well as a museum where you can witness firsthand the process of fermenting shark. (I was determined not to try this traditional Icelandic food, though I gave in a few days later. Thankfully the small piece of shark is always followed up with a shot of Brennivín, Iceland's signature liquor.) Once I arrived in Grundarfjörður, I was handed a free coffee, quickly ushered past a group of old women knitting, and seated in a room for a personal viewing of a slideshow of historical photographs documenting the town's prosperous fishing history.
I continued driving through Ólafsvík and Rif, stopping to wander down to quiet harbors and through frozen soccer fields for a better look at Iceland's unique churches. I had intended to stay in one of these little towns, but as I walked through them, nothing felt quite as right as going back to Stykkishólmur and the little harbor hostel there that had become a place of comfort to me, so I grabbed a few groceries in Rif and made my way back as the sun set behind me.