The butterflies begin to flutter as we leave the suburbs of Reykjavik. Out on the lava plains of the Reykjanes peninsula they take flight in my stomach as Ingó Olsen of tour operator Arctic Surfers extols the waves detonating on the nearby shore. Surf megabrand Billabong once said of the indescribable thrill of gliding across moving walls of water: "Only a surfer knows the feeling." I begin to wonder whether that might also refer to fear.

The idea that led me to this point was innocent enough. Where in Europe could I find empty waves in midsummer, when every wannabe in a wetsuit is paddling into the lineup (the area where surfers wait for unbroken waves)? South-west France and Portugal would be crowded; Morocco would have no swell.

For decades, the surfing dream has been all about the tropics. But wanderlust (or at least the promise of an empty peak) is also hardwired into the surfing psyche and as wetsuit technology has improved, surfable breaks have got colder. Warmed by the gulf stream, water temperatures in Iceland hover around 12C in summer, equivalent to early spring in Cornwall. It's only in winter that it dips to 3-4C and seas strike like a slap in the face.

But this is a fishing nation, with a traditional respect for the sea, so it wasn't until the mid-1990s that a few Reykjavik snowboarders tagged along with US surfers from a Nato airbase.

"I was, like, 'Surfing? In Iceland? Are you kidding me?'" recalls Olsen. "I went one summer evening with a really old borrowed wetsuit, wool socks with plastic bags over them, and sneakers – and it was so much fun."

Olsen has long since graduated from his boogieboard stolen from a swimming pool. In 2011 he founded Arctic Surfers and today, at the grand old age of 32, he is a veteran of the country's scene, winkling out more Icelandic breaks than any surfer.

That might seem bizarre given the numbers of silver-haired surfers elsewhere, but Iceland is a country that demands you recalibrate. Is an early-morning session still a "dawnie" when the midnight sun allows for 24-hour surfing? Is a crowd really a crowd in a country with about 25 surfers, most aged 18-35? (In the UK around 500,000 surfers paddle out year-round.)

"I saw 10 people in the water once; that was a crowd. But then the surf was perfect – I mean, way better than California perfect," says Valdimar Thorlacius. Five years ago, at the age of 20, he shaped Iceland's first surfboard. Seven more followed; some for himself, some sold at cost to friends. This sort of refreshingly rootsy ethos characterises Icelandic surfing. "There's usually no one out, so you can just have a spot to yourself for … well, for days," adds Valdimar.

Inspired, I load my board and a swaddling of neoprene (a balaclava hood, 5mm wetsuit, gloves and boots) and set off to discover the eight breaks within an hour of the capital. Towards the tip of the Reykjanes peninsula the earth begins to pant. Then it spits china-blue mud in a moonscape as black as tar. Barely 37 miles from the design boutiques and cafes of Reykjavik, I feel I've rewound a billion years.

Catching a wave in Iceland. Photograph: Chris Burkard

Unrideable high-tide surf crumps on to black sand dunes at Sandvík bay, the break pioneered by the US airmen. I check Grindavík instead but the waves beyond the fishing town's red corrugated roofs are flayed into white streaks by a stiff cross-shore wind. In surf-slang, I've been skunked. I need expert help, which is how I find myself in Olsen's four-wheel drive, learning about triple-overhead waves and wondering if discretion might not have been the better part of valour.

My error was poor research, Olsen explains. "We have a saying: 'The guy who gets the fish goes out fishing.' You read about the great waves here, but you have to put in a lot of work to know where they will be and when."

For surfers, the problem in Iceland is the wind, rather than the cold water, although the extravagant scenery more than compensates when the surf gods don't smile. Olsen taps his phone and data from commercial fishing websites blips on to the screen. There will be waves, he promises, but not large. I sympathise, quietly relieved. And so we drive through a petrified sea of choppy lava on the peninsula's south coast to a bay called Thorlí, near the village of Porlakshöfen. On a good day the point break here can unfurl in a roar of galloping foam for 300m.

All I catch is three clean, weak waves, none over chest-high. I spend more time gazing at mountains planed into crazy angles and storm petrels soaring on stiff wings. It crosses my mind that for all the claims of heavy Icelandic surf, sharing mellow empty waves with a friend is just as satisfying – a feeling perhaps only a surfer would know.

• The trip was provided by Discover the World (discover-the-world.co.uk), which has a three-night trip to Reykjavik from £208pp (May-September), including transfers and B&B accommodation. A day tour for experienced surfers with Arctic Surfers (arcticsurfers.is) costs from £221, including equipment hire and lunch. Beginners could try Icelandic Activities (icelandactivities.is). Easyjet (easyjet.com) flies to Reykjavik from Bristol, Edinburgh, Luton and Manchester from around £100 return in summer

Fresh waves: more emerging surf destinations

Surfer at Cape Cross, Namibia Photograph: Hoberman Collection/Corbis

Skeleton Coast, Namibia

A barrelling lefthand break where rides are counted in minutes not seconds alerted the world to the potential of this 930-mile coastline when pro surfer Cory Lopez caught one of "the longest waves in Africa" in 2008. Desert scenery and the need for self-sufficiency make for a true pioneer experience. There are just a few catches: heavy waves, big sharks and a wade through swamps to get there. Accommodation is scarce (start at Swakopmund or Walvis Bay) and surfers should watch out for park rangers who enforce a no-surfing rule.

Vancouver Island, British Columbia

The availability of warmer wetsuits means surfers can now explore the consistent cold-water surf and wilderness of Canada's west coast. Hardcore surfers have been coming to Tofino, the busiest break, since the 1970s, but there are emptier waves at spots such as Jordan River, in the south of the island.

Kerala, India

Despite the arrival of surf camps for beginners and online guides to the best spots in the state, surfing remains a novelty here. Prevailing onshore winds do tend to generate mushy waves, and water quality can be iffy, but the flipside is no crowds, the chance to surf in boardshorts year-round, and plenty else to do when conditions aren't right, starting with yoga. Throw in the cultural appeal of south-west India, and you have the perfect pick-me-up during a UK winter.