Bjarnarhöfn: a unique history in fermentation.

​​Driving through Snæfellsnes always feels like stepping into another world and Bjarnarhöfn has a unique part in that experience. Nestled on the northern coast of the peninsula, this place has an interesting, raw beauty that’s hard to describe—somewhere between a Viking saga and a geological field trip. Most people come here for the shark museum, where you can taste Iceland’s infamous hákarl (fermented shark), but the land itself also tells a deep story, one of shifting earth, ancient eruptions, and life clinging to the edges of the North Atlantic.

Bjarnarhöfn sits in a region shaped by volcanic forces, much like the rest of Snæfellsnes. The area is flanked by basalt cliffs, lava fields, and rolling hills that hint at past eruptions. These old lava flows, broken and weathered, are now covered in thick mosses and lichens, giving the land a muted green and gray palette. Closer to the coastline, you get black sand beaches and jagged rock formations, remnants of Iceland’s turbulent geological past.

Further inland, Snæfellsjökull glacier looms in the distance, its presence felt even when hidden behind clouds. This glacier-capped stratovolcano has inspired myths for centuries, from Viking legends to Jules Verne’s Journey to the Center of the Earth. Though it's about 50 km away, it influences everything—the weather, the soil, even the way light plays on the landscape.

Despite the harsh conditions, life thrives here in fascinating ways. Arctic thyme, angelica, and wild blueberries poke through cracks in the lava, while twisted birch and rowan trees manage to survive in sheltered spots. The air smells of salt and earth, and in summer, the moss seems almost unnaturally vibrant.

Grasses grow thick in lowland areas, feeding the region’s hardy sheep and helping shape the local ecosystem. The combination of volcanic soil, salty air, and a mix of warm and cold ocean currents creates a unique terroir—one that has shaped everything from farming to the food culture of the region.

The weather in Bjarnarhöfn is unpredictable at best. One minute, the sun lights up the mossy lava fields in gold and green, and the next, a low-hanging fog rolls in from the sea, swallowing the land whole. Wind is a constant companion, sometimes whispering through the grass, sometimes howling across the open fields.

Rain showers come and go without warning, but when the skies clear, the views stretch forever—across Breiðafjörður, toward the Westfjords, and out to the endless Atlantic. The ocean is always part of the landscape, even when it’s not in sight.

Bjarnarhöfn feels like one of those places where time slows down. There’s a stillness here, even with the wind and waves. Whether you come for the shark, the history, or just to wander through the wild landscapes of Snæfellsnes, it’s a place that lingers in the back of your mind long after you leave. Maybe it’s the light, the silence, or the way the land itself seems to hum with the memory of something ancient. Whatever it is, it’s worth the trip.

For centuries, Icelanders have preserved Greenland shark as hákarl, a tradition dating back to the Viking Age when food preservation was essential for survival. Since the shark’s fresh meat is toxic, it undergoes a fermentation and drying process to make it safe to eat. At Bjarnarhöfn, the shark is first cleaned and cut, then buried under gravel or placed in a wooden container to ferment for 6–12 weeks, allowing harmful toxins to break down. Afterward, it’s hung in an open-air drying shed for 4–5 months, developing its signature strong ammonia smell and chewy texture. Once ready, the outer layer is cut off, and the inside is sliced into small cubes for eating—often paired with Brennivín schnapps. The result is an intensely flavored, uniquely Icelandic delicacy that many visitors dare to try at Bjarnarhöfn’s Shark Museum.