From the moment I heard about Þakgil, I wanted to go. A campsite in a secluded canyon? Close to the Ring Road yet tucked into the highlands? And supposedly there’s a dining area inside a cave?
Years passed and I kept putting it off, convinced I’d need a serious 4×4, harrowing river crossings, and perfect timing within some impossibly short summer window. That last part turned out to be true — Þakgil is open from mid-July to the end of September — but most of my other assumptions needed some adjusting.
Lush Oasis
Þakgil is both the name of the canyon and the campsite sitting inside it, about three and a half hours from Reykjavík. To get there, you leave Vík and head inland along Kerlingardalvegur, or Road 214. It’s not officially classified as an F-road, but the potholed gravel track still asks something of your vehicle and your patience. Dry weather helps considerably.
That 16-kilometre stretch of gravel holds your attention from the start. One minute you’re in Vík — once a quiet little town, now a tourist hub visibly struggling with the volume of visitors, septic system and all — and almost immediately the road pulls you into a world of dramatic hills and mountain rivers threading through the valley.
“A campsite in a secluded valley? In the highlands, yet so close to the Ring Road? Wait — did you say they have a dining area inside a cave?”
The campsite’s website explains that the name Þakgil translates to “roofed canyon” (with “þak” meaning “roof” and “gil” meaning “canyon”), and boasts that, “as the name suggests, the weather is usually good.” On the July evening we arrive, the weather has clearly not read that page. A warm rain drifts in and out, but Þakgil is cosy enough that it barely matters.
The campsite sits ringed by tall, moss-covered hills that do a decent job of sheltering you from whatever the highland climate feels like throwing at you. The green here is striking — not the pale or harsh green you sometimes see in Iceland, but something richer, almost emerald. It’s hard to explain; let’s just say it’s the kind of green you picture when you think of Ireland.
Photo by Atli Freyr Steinsson
Photo by Atli Freyr Steinsson
Thank You, Sir
The campsite has standard facilities — plenty of space for tents and vehicles — plus a row of small wooden cabins tucked against the hillside. Rates are reasonable: 2,800 ISK per person per night for camping (one shower included), and cabins sleeping four on double bunk beds go for 28,000 ISK. Each cabin has a gas stove, fridge, and toilet, while showers and warm water taps are in a separate, well-kept block. A sign on the bathroom door reads: “Welcome to the Þakgil shitshow. Please remain seated for the entire performance.”
I’m a straightforward camper, so a patch of grass suits me fine. My tent was up in minutes and the grill going shortly after, butter melting over corn on the cob while I settled into a camping chair and tried not to notice the drizzle. That’s when a fellow camper appeared, clearly British. “Excuse me, would you like to use my awning? I feel sorry for you sitting in the rain.” (Read that in Benedict Cumberbatch’s voice for full effect.)
By Icelandic standards the weather was perfectly fine, so I wasn’t entirely sure which rain he meant — and I wasn’t sure what an awning was either. I felt a bit guilty declining. A few minutes later the man, whose car was plastered with a large “Iceland Trip” sticker, had erected a fabric canopy over my spot so I could eat my corn in peace.
“It’s hard to explain; let’s just say it’s the kind of green you picture when you think of Ireland.”
This campsite has a warmth that a lot of places lack. Kids in waterproofs were wading through a nearby stream, thoroughly coated in mud, before migrating to a sandpit filled with Iceland’s characteristic black sand.
The cave dining area deserves its own mention. There are several grills in there, a fireplace, and by candlelight in the evening it’s genuinely atmospheric. Over morning coffee I was quizzed by a group of five-year-old boys who were weighing up whether to go deeper into the cave, armed with lanterns that were almost comically large for them.
It’s Getting Dramatic
Þakgil is a solid base for hikes in the area, all mapped out on a board near the campsite showers. The red trail to a nearby waterfall is the one not to skip — it’s more of a walk than a hike, but the canyon-within-a-canyon scenery more than makes up for the lack of effort. The greenery deepens as you go further in, and photographs from that stretch look almost unreal: splashes of yellow daffodils and dark purple arctic thyme against relentless green.
We also did the Remundargil trail during our stay. It’s normally a 12-kilometre hike, but you can drive from Þakgil to the Remundargil canyon and then walk up to the viewpoint overlooking Kötlujökull — which is what we did. Mist was settling on the ridged mountains as we climbed, giving everything a slightly unreal quality. At the top, the view was breathtaking and unsettling in equal measure. You don’t need statistics about glacier retreat to feel what’s happening; standing there looking at Kötlujökull, it’s obvious enough. In a decade or two, this view may look very different. Worth seeing while it still looks like this.
To visit Þakgil, take Route 1 south to Vík, then turn onto Route 214. For more information about the campsite, visit thakgil.is.
