Prior to arriving in Iceland I had talked to a few people who had already been. The most common responses was that the weather and landscape was always changing. Day one didn’t disappoint in that respect. I was also told that the environment can seem somewhat alien, as in you’re on another planet, not alien as in you’ve lived all your life in a big city and suddenly find yourself in a rural setting.

I’d have to say that aside from the lava-fields everything felt a little familiar. For quite a bit of this day the scenery reminded me of places I had visited in Britain – the moors and Scottish highlands mostly. Even the distinct absence of trees couldn’t shake this notion and although excited to be here I wasn’t too impressed with Iceland thus far.

The day started very grey, wet and windy but the sun soon broke through the clouds to give us blue skies and rainbows. I was taking in the scenery much of the day rather than seeking something good to photograph and was happy enough to go for a walk every now and then. Highlights were the sulphur springs for their pungent eggy smell and a waterfall simply because it is a waterfall.

Although seemingly uneventful, day one helped ease us in to our journey. It is not often you get to see a rainbow or a waterfall and the hot water in Iceland has the same eggy smell of the geothermal sulphur springs. Little did I know at the end of day one that these would be regular features for the days to follow.

Landing at Keflavik airport, my first thoughts were ‘cold, very wet and very windy. Surprisingly though the weather cleared after an hour and because of the sunshine and intermittent showers, we were treated to some very spectacular views and rainbows.

Sometimes it takes you a while to realise why a place feels so different from what you are used to. It wasn’t until the wind had stopped howling in my ears, in the shelter of a weird wind-carved rock formation, that I understood why Iceland can feel so eerie: it was the deadly silence. 

In the midst of the barren lava-fields of the Reykjanes peninsula - the first that most visitors to Iceland see of this astonishing land - the landscape is unearthly and alien. Not a tree grows anywhere, so there are no birds to sing, and away from the airport no planes fly overhead. There is no distant motorway to provide a background sigh, and no railway for trains to clatter along. All there is are you, the landscape, and the silence.

Kleifarvatn lies about 20km to the south of the capital conurbation, which consists of Reykjavík, Garðabær, Hafnarfjörður, Mossfellsbær and Kópavogur. The water level is extremely sensitive to weather conditions, and varies considerably, to the extent that the lake is used by some locals as a rain gauge. It is surrounded by barren, black rock and lava, dusted with little more advanced than moss and lichen. At the south end of the lake, near the tiny settlement of Krýsuvík, an area of geothermal activity assaults the nose with a pungent sulphurous smell which I would liken to a cross between boiled eggs and Marmite. The intense heat triggers chemical reactions in the soil creating red, yellow and grey mud which seethes and boils endlessly.

We drove through Reykjavík, stopping briefly for something to eat, and headed inland towards Þingvellir, the Parliament Plains, where the first Icelandic parliament was held in the early 10th Century, making it the world’s oldest democratically elected parliament. There is geological significance, too, as Þingvellir is also where the tectonic plates of North America and Europe meet, moving apart slowly to create a vast low-lying plain between mountains to the south and tall cliffs of lava to the north. Over these cliffs the river Öxará flows, creating the Öxarárfoss waterfall, from where the water makes its way down two more, smaller waterfalls before flowing into Þingvallavatn, one of Europe’s largest inland lakes.

As the sun set we paid a brief visit to Geysir, before a long drive through driving rain and pitch darkness to our first overnight stay at Hotel Dyrhólaey, near Vík, Iceland’s southernmost town.