Fun Things to See and Do in Iceland Before You Die

I've decided that crossing rivers in a jeep is my new favourite hobby. It's much more exciting than snowmobiling on a glacier, walking behind waterfalls, spotting celebrity muff, or any of the other millions of Fun Things to See and Do in Iceland Before You Die.

I went on a trip to the highlands with some friends at the weekend, to visit the beautiful Ursula, who is living a life of isolation as a hut warden for a couple of weeks up in the wilderness. Due to the total lack of network coverage we had to spring a surprise on her and just hope she'd be in. Well, of course she was in. There isn't another hut for fifty million miles; just glaciers, black sand, and the odd troll lurking about between the rocks.

And she was surprised. Mostly that two computer geeks, a four year old, and me, Princess Rhiannon, had managed to get across Markafljót without being swept away downstream in the current. Well, we had a boot full of beer, wine, fresh fruit and veg, and whale steak, so getting swept away wasn't really an option. I admit I screamed like a girl when we sunk down into the deepest part, but that was just part of the fun, and anyway, Már says it helped cover up his own cries of terror. Unfortunately I don't have any pictures of this epic crossing, because I was in the jeep, of course, and Logi refused point blank to take me across first and then drive back through again just so I could "get a picture for my blonk".

Whale meat is delicious. Somebody once told me it tasted like "fishy beef", which never really sounded all that appetising to me. But it's not fishy at all — it's more like the most tender rump steak you've ever tried in your life. A wave of guilt did wash over me, as it were, when it was first suggested we eat a whale, but I just thought about all the poor chickens who spent their lives in horrible captivity in battery farms just to keep me in scrambled eggs. This cheered me up considerably and I didn't give the whale another thought for the rest of the evening. It was grilled outside on the barbecue, very lightly, while I skewered the vegetables inside the hut with Garpur, who taught me how to say "pirate ship" and "motorcycle man" in Icelandic.

The rest of the weekend was spent wandering around, taking moody pictures of each other in the desert; drinking wine and whiskey; and all falling asleep on top of each other in Ursula's tiny cabin. I woke up around 6 am, wondering why the whale still smelt so strong wafting in from the kitchen. Then I realised it was just night smells oozing out of my companions' bottoms, and I fell soundly back to sleep again for the rest of the morning.