Nobody warned me that Iceland smells like the earth is alive.
I stepped out of the rental car somewhere between Reykjavík and nowhere, and the air hit me — sulphur and cold and something ancient underneath it all. The sky was doing three things at once: still dark at the edges, bruised purple in the middle, and cracking gold at the horizon. A geyser I couldn’t yet see was hissing in the distance. And I was completely, totally, magnificently alone.
This is the Iceland Golden Circle solo road trip story I needed to read before I went. So I’m writing it for you now.
“Iceland doesn’t ease you in. It grabs you by the collar at the airport and says: this is what the planet looks like when no one has touched it yet.”
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Location
Southwest Iceland
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Budget Range
$180–$380 / day
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Best Time
June–Aug / Dec–Feb
⏳
Duration
1–3 Days
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Getting Around
Rental Car Only
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Route Distance
~300 km loop
Start > National Park > Geysir Hot Spring > Gullfoss Waterfall > Crater > Return
I landed at Keflavík International Airport at 11:40 PM on a Thursday in late June. Outside the terminal, it was still not fully dark — that famous Icelandic midnight sun painting everything in a low, golden, impossible light that made the lava fields look like they were glowing from within. I stood on the pavement with my 25-litre pack and laughed out loud at the absurdity of it all.
I’d booked a guesthouse in Reykjavík for two nights — one before the drive, one after — using Booking.com, and I specifically chose it for the free parking and the owner who’d emailed me a hand-written route recommendation when I asked about the Golden Circle. That’s the kind of detail that makes a solo trip.
I booked through Trip.com for flexible cancellation. Look for guesthouses with free parking — you’ll pick up your rental car nearby and save on fees. Many include Icelandic breakfast (skyr, rye bread, smoked salmon). Worth every króna.Click here to book your stay
I left Reykjavík at 6:30 AM — later than planned because I couldn’t stop staring at the sunrise from my guesthouse window. The drive to Þingvellir (pronounced, approximately, “thing-vet-leer”) takes about 45 minutes on Route 36, and the road opens up into this vast, flat plateau that feels like someone removed the ceiling from the world.
Þingvellir is where the North American and Eurasian tectonic plates meet — and visibly pull apart by about 2cm a year. You can walk the rift valley between them. I stood at the bottom of Almannagjá gorge with a wall of ancient rock on either side, knowing that one wall belongs to one continent and the other to another, and felt the specific vertigo of understanding your own smallness. It’s not fear exactly. It’s more like awe wearing fear’s coat.
The Silfra fissure — where you can snorkel between the plates in water so clear it has zero visibility issues at 100 metres — was on my list but not in my budget this trip. I’m going back for that. I’m already planning it.
Ava’s Tip: Arrive at Þingvellir before 8 AM. The car park fills fast in summer and the rift walk is best experienced in total silence — no tour groups, no noise. Just the wind and the geological improbability of the whole thing.
There is a specific crowd psychology at a geyser. Everyone clusters around Strokkur — the active one — phones raised, waiting. The water in the pool turns that impossible turquoise, then bulges upward like something living beneath is pressing up, and then — BOOM — a column of boiling water and steam launches 30 metres into the air and the entire crowd gasps in unison. Every single time. Even the seventh time, I gasped.
What got me wasn’t the eruption itself. It was the silence immediately after. Steam drifting sideways. The smell of sulphur. And then the crowd’s collective exhale, which sounded — I am not being dramatic — exactly like the geyser’s own breath returning to stillness.
The area is free to enter. There’s a visitor centre, restaurant, and gift shop. I ate a bowl of lamb soup that cost the equivalent of $22 and was the best thing I’d eaten in two days. Iceland is expensive. Eat the soup anyway.
“Strokkur doesn’t care that you’ve been waiting. It erupts on its own schedule, in its own time. There’s something deeply instructive about that.”
I’ve seen waterfalls before. Niagara. Iguazú. Victoria Falls from a microlight plane. None of them prepared me for Gullfoss at close range in the rain.
Gullfoss — “Golden Falls” — drops in two tiers into a canyon that seems to go nowhere, the water just disappearing into the earth’s own throat. The volume is staggering. The noise arrives before the waterfall does — this low, constant roar that you feel in your sternum. And then you round the path and the mist hits you and you’re soaked within thirty seconds and you genuinely don’t care.
I sat on a wet rock at the lower viewing platform for maybe twenty minutes. I didn’t take any photos. I just sat there letting Iceland happen to me. That’s the version of the memory I want to keep — not the one on my phone.
Kerið is a volcanic crater lake, roughly 3,000 years old, with walls of blood-red volcanic rock descending steeply to a lake of the most surreal aquamarine. It costs about $4 to enter — the only paid stop on the Golden Circle — and almost every tour group skips it or rushes through.
I arrived at 4 PM to near-empty paths. I walked the full rim (about 15 minutes), then descended the steep trail to the lake edge, sat on the red rock, and ate the gas-station chocolate bar I’d been rationing since Reykjavík. The reflection of the crater walls in the water was so still and so perfect it looked digitally altered. It wasn’t. Iceland just looks like that.
There was a moment on the drive between Geysir and Gullfoss — a long, empty stretch of road through a landscape that looked like Mars if Mars had grass — where I pulled over, turned the engine off, and just sat in the silence. No cars. No people. Wind against glass. Sky the colour of pewter and silver. I needed no one’s permission to stop. I didn’t need to explain why it mattered. That’s the gift of solo travel that no one can take from you.
At Þingvellir I met a Finnish woman named Aino who was also driving the loop alone. We walked the rift valley together for an hour, talking about everything and nothing — her divorce, my career change, why neither of us could quite explain why we’d come to Iceland alone, only that we’d both known we had to. We parted ways at the car park. I don’t have her number. I have the memory exactly as it was.
A raven landed on the bonnet of my rental car at Kerið and stared at me for a full thirty seconds. Ravens in Norse mythology are Odin’s messengers. I’m not superstitious. But I whispered “hello” and it tilted its head and flew away, and I drove the rest of the route back to Reykjavík feeling, inexplicably, like I’d been seen.
I booked through Rentalcars.com — compare all local suppliers in one search. Book with full insurance and check the excess carefully. Icelandic gravel roads can chip windscreens and the standard excess without cover is brutal.[Insert Rentalcars.com / Car Rental Affiliate Link]
| Expense | Budget | Mid-Range |
|---|---|---|
| Flights to Reykjavík (return) | $350 | $650 |
| Rental car (per day, incl. insurance) | $85 | $140 |
| Accommodation — Reykjavík (per night) | $55 (hostel) | $130 (guesthouse) |
| Fuel for full loop | $35 | $35 |
| Kerið crater entry | $4 | $4 |
| Food (gas station + one sit-down) | $40 | $80 |
| Activities (optional snorkelling etc.) | $0 | $120 |
| Total (1-day loop, 2 nights) | ~$570 | ~$1,160 |

KEX Hostel and Hlemmur Square are both brilliant solo-traveller spots in central Reykjavík. Lively common areas, great for meeting other road-trippers. I found mine on Hostelworld — sorted by solo-traveller rating.Click here to book your Hotel
For a mid-range splurge, Reykjavík has some genuinely special boutique hotels in the old town. Sandhotel and Center Hotels are both excellent. I booked through Trip.com for the reward nights programme.Click here to book your hotel.
I underestimated driving time between stops. Google Maps in Iceland lies — the speed limits are 90 km/h on highways but 60 on the scenic roads near each attraction. My 8-hour plan took 11. Start earlier than you think.
I didn’t book the Secret Lagoon in advance. It sold out. I sat in my rental car eating a gas-station hot dog instead of floating in a geothermal pool. Book everything before you go. Click here to book your travel
I wore cotton base layers. Cotton in Icelandic wet weather is genuinely dangerous — it holds moisture against your skin. Merino wool or synthetic only. This is not a style tip. It’s a safety one.
Over-plan the logistics, under-plan the experience. Know your route, book your beds, fill your tank. Then put the phone down and let Iceland show you what it wants to show you. It will always surprise you more than your itinerary would have.
“I drove 300 kilometres in a country that barely has roads,
past geysers and glaciers and rifts in the earth’s own skin,
entirely alone — and I have never felt less lonely in my life.
That is what solo travel does, if you let it.
It doesn’t fill the silence. It teaches you to love it.”
The Golden Circle is only 300 km. But it will take you somewhere much further than that.
Wind-burned and wide-eyed, Ava 🧊
Compare all airlines — Icelandair, Play, easyJet, and more — in one search.Click here to book your Flight.
Compare all local suppliers with full insurance. Book early — cars sell out in summer.[Insert Car Rental Affiliate Link]
From city hostels to farmhouse stays — all with free cancellation options.Click here to book your stay.
-Ava