Stykkisholmur

A white concrete church said to follow the shape of a whale bone stands on the rise. Hundreds of star shaped lights hang from the ceiling inside.

A causeway from the quay leads onto a small basalt islet with a yellow lighthouse. From the top the islets in the bay look scattered like grain.

A cone standing alone rises 463 metres with a small waterfall in front of it. The spot that puts both into one frame is marked at the roadside.

The boat weaves between islets through narrows where the current runs hard. A net is dropped from the deck for urchins and shellfish, which are shared out on the spot.

Water taken from twenty four glaciers in the country stands in glass columns. Walking through the room, light passes through the water and prints patterns on the floor.

An ice capped volcano closes the peninsula and a novel made it the way down into the earth. With clear air the peak is visible even from the capital.

Rusted pieces of a wreck lie scattered over a beach of round black pebbles. Four lifting stones used to test a fisherman's strength sit there by weight.

A path of 2.5 kilometres follows arches and pierced rock along the shore. Gulls sit in the cliff hollows and the noise of them never stops.

People live on this island in summer only and not one car is on it. The ferry calls twice a day, so missing it means staying the night.

At low tide seals haul out onto the rocks to dry off. The sign asks that a distance of 50 metres be kept.

A merchant's house raised in 1832 from logs brought by ship from Norway, now the peninsula's regional museum. Upstairs, the parlour and bedrooms of a wealthy 19th-century merchant family keep their period furniture. The ground-floor shop sells local crafts.

A low 73-metre hill south of the village whose name means holy mountain. The story goes that if you climb to the top without speaking or looking back, three wishes come true. At its foot lies the grave of Gudrun, heroine of a saga.

A small timber church painted black stands alone where a lava field meets the south coast of Snaefellsnes. There is not a single house around it, so Snaefellsjokull rises unobstructed behind. The low stone wall in front encloses its graveyard.

Two basalt pillars, remnants of a crater worn away by the sea, rise from the coast near the peninsula's western end. The taller is 75 metres, and seabirds pack their ledges with nests. You see them walking the coastal path from Malarrif lighthouse.

A cave formed by lava 8000 years ago, entered down a spiral staircase to 35 metres underground. Entry requires a guide, and when every light is switched off you see nothing at all. Midsummer or not, it is cold below ground, so pack a jacket.

A small crater rising from lava on the peninsula's western side, with a steel staircase to the top. In little more than ten minutes you stand on the rim above lava and ocean. Gusts are strong up there, so grip the railing as you climb.

In the saga, two berserkers cut a path across this lava field to win the right to marry. Once the work was done, the story says, they were killed in a bathhouse. The stone track they are said to have built, Berserkjagata, still shows through the lava.

A narrow crack splitting the mountainside top to bottom, entered by following the stream inside. The walls rise so high that the sky shows as a thread, and seabird calls echo. You step across stones in the water, so waterproof shoes are needed.