Travelogue—Iceland: A Great Place to Sweat

On Sunday, November 7, I climbed aboard a Boeing 757 in Seattle bound for Iceland. My ultimate destination was Paris, but I had a four-day layover, which gave me plenty of time to enjoy the sites and sounds of Reykjavik and the surrounding area. This is the story of those four days.

The seven-hour flight from Seattle to Keflavik International Airport was uneventful. I sandwiched myself between, Joe (my boyfriend) and a hip twenty-something guy from Canada named Jordon, who, to my great delight, was thin and did not spill over into my middle-seat space.

Day 1 – First Impressions

After the plane landed, we passed through immigration and customs, met the driver from our hotel, and walked outside to load our bags into the van. Unremarkable events, except for the moment that I went from walking through the toasty warm terminal to stepping outside and being flash frozen like a freshly caught tuna. The wind didn't so much hit me as it seemed to pass right through me. I was wearing long underwear and a wool coat, but it may as well have been a cotton summer dress for all the good it seemed to do. Welcome to Iceland!

In addition to the cold, it was still pitch black at 7:30 a.m. In Seattle, the sun would have already been up for at least a half hour. Complete darkness so late in the morning in early November was a surprise, but, with virtually no light pollution and no clouds, it made for a dazzling star display.

After 20 minutes, the driver exited off of the highway and then turned onto a gravel road, which led down to an L-shaped, single-level structure. It was the Northern Light Inn, a hotel that we had settled for because our desired destination, the nearby “Blue Lagoon Spa,” was booked solid that day.

Check-in was informal with no papers to sign. To reach our room, we walked past a small dining room, two sitting rooms, and a vending machine. Everything was modern and clean, and somehow reminded me more of a religious retreat center than a hotel. The view out our window looked like a bunch of rocks, but it was hard to tell through the darkness.

“We've landed on the moon,” I said to Joe, then closed the shades.

By sunrise (at 9:30 a.m.!), we were long asleep, and by four in the afternoon, we were awake again and ready to take full advantage of the one hour of sunlight left in the day. I opened the window shades to discover a lava field as far as the eye could see. And not too far off in the distance, I saw a factory spewing giant plumes of steam, which turned out to be a geothermal power plant. The view certainly wasn't your typical holiday panorama of ocean and palm trees, but who wants the “same old, same old” boring tropical beauty when you can have lava and a power plant!

Joe and I decided to go outside and explore, so I bundled up with so many layers that I popped the zipper on my coat. Wardrobe malfunctions aside, my outfit did the trick. The wind whipped and I could feel the cold on my cheeks and nose, but the rest of me stayed warm.

We were on the dirt road on our way to nowhere in particular when the hotel mini-van drove by and offered us a ride to the Blue Lagoon. We hopped in and found out that the driver was actually the hotel's chef. She raved about the fresh lobster and highly encouraged us to order it that night for dinner in the hotel's restaurant. I'm not a big lobster fan, but she explained that Icelandic lobster is special—smaller, more flavorful, and simply better than any other lobster in the world.

She had just piqued my interest in the crustacean dinner when we arrived at the Blue Lagoon's parking lot, which was large and nearly empty. I'm guessing that a freezing cold Monday evening in November doesn't exactly rate as the Blue Lagoon's high season...but that's just a guess.

The spa itself was not visible from the parking lot, but signs indicated to follow a beautiful path that was carved through 12-foot high lava. The path inclined and near the top, I caught my first glimpse of the modern building.

The architecture reminded me of Frank Lloyd Wright's “Falling Water” house, which is tightly integrated with the trees, boulders, and river of a western Pennsylvania forest. The Blue Lagoon's structure is set directly in and contoured around lava formations and water pools. The building melds seamlessly with the environment and looks almost as if it sprung up spontaneously out of the lava flows and geothermal geysers.

Once inside, the spa's check-in desk is to the left and a chic store selling Blue Lagoon skincare products, clothing, and tourist knick-knacks is to the right. Beyond the check-in desk and store is a high-ceilinged, cavernous space used primarily as a cafe and open seating area. Down another hallway is the “Lava Restaurant,” a fine dining establishment that turned out to be not so fine, as we discovered the next day over a disappointing dinner.

We explored a little further and found a large rooftop deck overlooking the lagoon. After taking pictures of the half-moon bridges and steaming waters, we set out on the 10-minute walk back to the hotel.

It was already dusk and getting darker by the minute, but we knew that there was no way to get lost. We could see our hotel off in the distance and the road between the Blue Lagoon and the highway only had two turns—the first leading to the power plant and the second leading to the Northern Light Inn.

About 20-minutes into our walk, we started feeling lost. We should have at least made the turn by then, if not already been back at the hotel. We debated whether to press on or head back and opted for the latter. The cold was seeping into my layers, and I felt a sense of relief when we hit the dirt road that marked the way home. We had missed the turn earlier, because of our interest in a pipeline on the opposite side of the road. So much for not getting lost!

Forty-five minutes after leaving the Blue Lagoon, we were back at our hotel. I was cold, hungry, and ready for lobster!

We ordered the tomato bisque, which was chock full of lobster meat swimming in a smooth bowl of creamy yumminess. The main course of lobster tails were as flavorful and succulent as the chef had promised. We also ordered the “catch of the day,” which was a tender white fish, also served with a lobster sauce. We chased it all with “beer brewed with glacial water in an Icelandic hamlet.” One of the best meals of my life...in a small, nondescript hotel restaurant in the middle of a lava field. I never would have guessed.

Day 2 – The Blue Lagoon

The next day, we moved from the Northern Light Inn to the Blue Lagoon. In addition to the the spa that is open to the public, the Blue Lagoon also has a separate medical clinic to treat people suffering from psoriasis. The clinic is a five-minute walk away from the Blue Lagoon Spa and has 15 hotel rooms. Luckily, we didn't need to have psoriasis to book one!

After checking into our room, we walked straight over to the spa where we planned to spend most of the day. The worst moment was standing in the cold just before entering the lagoon for the first time. Showers are required, which is great for hygiene, but not so great for keeping warm in freezing cold air. After stepping onto the deck, it took me all of 15 seconds to hang my towel and get into the pool, but it was a loooong 15 seconds. The freezing air, however, heightened the magical feeling of melting into the warm water.

The lagoon is about the size of a large resort swimming pool. It's shape is irregular with many nooks to swim in and around, and the water is sourced from a naturally occurring geothermal seawater hot spring with temperatures hovering around 100°F. However, we found a few spots with temperature spikes that were too hot to touch.

One of the hot spots was near a geyser-like spout that looks like a small exploding volcano. The volcano is the lagoon's primary water source and replenishes the lagoon's entire six million liters of water every 40 hours. There is no need for chlorination or other chemicals due to the naturally occurring heat, minerals, and algae, along with the quick turnover of the water supply.

We were curious as to how close you could get to the water volcano, and while I stopped at two arms lengths, Joe reached in and touched its rocky base. With an “Ouch!” he quickly pulled back. The base didn't burn him. Instead, water from the geyser splashed on his hand and scalded him in a few spots, including the webbing between two fingers, which was particularly painful.

In the U.S., someone would probably have sued for millions of dollars and won. They would argue that the proprietors failed to save them from their own stupidity and should have put up a sign saying, “Hey stupid. See the steam? Feel the heat? Stay away for your own safety!” After years in court, they would get a big payout and the geyser-like spout would be barricaded off limits, or perhaps the entire spa would be closed.

Luckily though, we were in Iceland and the spa and all of it's many features were open and available to explore at our own risk, including:

• A “massage” waterfall that felt good on my upper back, but was too hard for my head.   
• Sauna and steam rooms, devoid of people, probably because they were so hot that I didn't manage even 60 seconds in either one.   
• A juice bar that we waded up to and ordered very healthy tasting energy drinks. (We were in swim suits. The barista wore a parka.)
• A door in the lagoon itself leading from the outdoor pool to a small indoor pool. If I had known it was there earlier, I could have avoided freezing outside before first entering the lagoon.
• And, finally, caches of silica mud...

Slathering silica mud on yourself is marketed as one of the highlights of the spa experience. The mud is a thick, light gray goo available in wooden crates placed around the lagoon.

The crates are made of wood slats set about two inches apart, so you can peek inside, but you can't reach in with your hand. To get the mud out, you grab what looks like a short-handled golf putter with the sides of the base flipped up to make a cup. You scoop, navigate the putter through the opening between the slats, grab a glob of goo, and apply.

Since the silica mud sits out in the cold air, it goes on cool, but soon starts to dry. The Blue Lagoon's marketing materials show people with nicely sculpted mud masks, but in reality, most people look like a five-year old's finger painting. I have to admit that I didn't notice much difference to my skin, but in retrospect, I wish I'd thought about my hair and worn a swim cap. After hours of soaking in silica water, my hair was like tangled hay.

While the water is the Blue Lagoon's main attraction, the location and scenery win awards for their supporting roles. If I placed the Blue Lagoon in the middle of a city, it would lose a key element...remoteness. The feeling of being out in the middle of nowhere, in an otherwise unnavigable lava field, with nothing but steam and quiet (and a geothermal plant) for company, is amazing and well worth the visit.

Day 3 – Reykjavik

Once again, we packed our bags and this time took a bus from the Blue Lagoon into Reykjavik, which is the largest city in Iceland, the capital of Iceland, and also the world's northernmost capital of a sovereign state. The land was still mostly flat, but the lava fields slowly gave way to grasslands. About 10 minutes into the 40-minute trip, we saw the ocean to our left and it stayed there as the road hugged the coastline.

As we hit the suburbs, the buildings were all new. Later, I learned that Iceland in the 1940's had the lowest standard of living of any European country. But as commercial fishing technologies were developed, Iceland became rich and by the 1980's was considered to have the highest standard of living in Europe—an amazing turnaround that included a lot of new construction.

The bus dropped us off at the vacation-rental apartment that would be our home for the next two days. It was conveniently located just two blocks away from one of the main downtown shopping areas, so we dressed up against the cold and ventured out to explore the city.

After a solid eight minutes of walking, I was freezing and we stopped in the nearest store, which happened to be one specializing in local culture, also commonly referred to as a souvenir shop. In Paris you find Eiffel Tower keychains, in Sydney it's stuffed Koala bears, and in Reykjavik...Viking helmets, puffins, and a large selection of real fur pelts (fox, seal, and reindeer). A little farther up the street, we saw a real stuffed puffin along with his friend the stuffed raven inside a little-less-touristy, and perhaps a little-too-authentic souvenir store.

As we meandered through the city, I found it to be clean, modern, and leaning toward utilitarian rather than quaint. It’s not a “destination” city like Paris or New York with lots of landmarks and high-end shopping, but the city is thriving with all of the normal shops and amenities, and plenty of restaurants and pubs. I was told that on weekends, the city has a booming music scene and people stay up until all hours of the morning drinking and partying. In the few hours I had to explore the city, Reykjavik struck me as a very normal and nice place to live, albeit a bit cold.

Neither our dinner that night nor the next was particularly good nor bad, but like all our meals in Iceland, they were outrageously expensive. At an Indian restaurant, we ordered an appetizer and two vegetarian entrees (no drinks) that cost a whopping $100. In Seattle, the same meal would cost $45, tops.

Because Iceland is an island with virtually no resources outside of fish and hot water, everything must be imported. Their import tax is 400% and their VAT (sales tax) is nearly 25% on everything, including food. That means you can pay $3 just for a banana!

Energy and heat on the other hand are plentiful and cheap thanks to their naturally occurring geothermal energy. Water out of the tap is instantly hot (sometimes too hot), and every building is kept warm enough that you can walk around inside in only a t-shirt. I spent a lot of time bundling up to brave the cold outside, then stripping down to avoid sweating to death inside.

Day 4 – The Golden Circle

Friends had recommended “The Golden Circle” tour, which is advertised to include geysers, a big waterfall, and the meeting point between the North American and Eurasian tectonic plates. What the tour really included was freezing temperatures (at the geysers), a freezing wind tunnel (at the waterfall), and a freezing Annie (at the tectonic divide). But aside from the cold, here's how the day went:

The Geysers

After short stops at a geothermal power plant and a very large crater, we arrived at the “Geysir” geothermal area.
“Geysir” is the only Icelandic word used in common English. But while “geyser” in English refers to all geysers, the name “Geysir” in Icelandic refers to a specific geyser that used to be the star of this geothermal area. It used to shoot steaming water up to 200 feet into the sky on a regular basis, but in recent years, it has gone mostly into retirement.

From the road, the geyser area looked like a slightly inclined and mostly barren hill. Patches of steam indicated where the hot water pools were located. David, our tour driver, dropped us off and pointed to a path that first wound through the geysers and then led back to a visitor center where we were to meet up with him again.

Typical of this visit to Iceland, the geyser area was a contrast in temperatures. While the air was well below freezing, the hot pools were over 200°F and boiling. One pool opened up into a small stream, and the hot water cut a channel through the ice on the ground. In another place, a sign warning that the water was 80-100°C was caked in ice from steam hitting the sign and instantly freezing.

The geyser area featured a dozen large and medium-sized pools with smaller ones dotted across the landscape. The pools were tiered on the hillside, so you had to walk up to see some and down to see others. Since ground water would usually be at the same level, we guessed that each pool was an unconnected channel down deep into the rock.

Most of the pools were fairly still with copious amounts of steam being the main attraction. However, one of the larger pools called “Strokkur” (meaning: “the churn”) erupted every five to ten minutes. In between blasts, we watched the water swirl and belch, then suddenly it would shoot up 60-100 feet into the sky. Some blasts were definitely bigger than others, and I'm glad we endured the cold to see it a handful of times. My other favorite pool was a small one near the visitor center called “Litli Geysir,” which looked like a bubbling witches cauldron.

Gulfoss

From the geyser area, we left for “Gulfoss” or “Golden Falls.” The landscape was roughly flat, so I was surprised when David said the waterfall was only a 10-minute drive from the geysers. I couldn't imagine where the water would be falling from.

Instead of leaving the highway in search of higher ground where a waterfall could spill over a mountain edge, we turned down a road that revealed a ravine. We rounded a corner and out the front window I saw a wide and impressive river and falls.

The very next thing I noticed were two people outside of a van parked next to ours. They were standing at an angle as if they were leaning against a wall, only there was no wall...only wind. The man was trying with great difficulty to put on a scarf, but he couldn't seem to keep hold of it as the scarf whipped and snapped uncontrollably.

I took note and bundled up before leaving the van, but it didn't help much. When I stepped outside, I was hit with a cold, hard blast of air and had my first true taste of what a hurricane must be like.

“Have you ever felt anything like this?” I practically screamed into Joe's ear to to be heard over the wind. At first, he yelled back that he had never experienced anything like it, but then he corrected himself: “Wait, yes, I have felt this before...jumping out of an airplane!”

Between the sand blowing in our faces and the subzero temperatures, neither of us cared much about the waterfall. We took a couple of quick pictures and hightailed it as fast as we could up some stairs and across a boardwalk to reach the shelter of a nearby restaurant. We each ordered a $15 bowl of hot and watery tomato-vegetable soup. I rationalized the price as $5 for the soup and $10 for it being “hot” soup.

Thingvellir National Park

I fell asleep on the drive from Gulfoss to Thingvellir National Park, which is where the North American and Eurasian tectonic plates meet. I woke up in time to see that the forces of nature had created an expansive valley with rock outcroppings, low shrubs, and grass. The valley is bordered by mountains, features Iceland's largest lake, and is the original site of the oldest existing parliament in the world. David said that the valley is at its best in the spring when it's blanketed in wildflowers.

Perhaps if it had been spring or summer, I would have seen more, but as it was, I went outside for all of five minutes and spent the rest of the time in the van asking David questions about Iceland and trying to stay warm.

I learned a number of interesting things from him:

• Naming System: In order to preserve the traditional Viking and Icelandic baby names, Icelandic parents must choose names from a government-approved list. All of the usual Christian names like John and Mary are included, but you will also find names like Auðbjörg and Friðþjófur. Also, there are no family names like Smith or Jones. Instead , the last name is made up of the father's first name with “son” or “dóttir” (daughter) added to the end. For example, if your name is Michael and your father's name is Dirk. Then your Icelandic name is Michael Dirkson.    
• Economic Collapse: The soundbite version is...Iceland's financial mess is as bad or worse than the rest of the world. Corruption is to blame. Iceland's financial future rests in renewable geothermal energy.    
• Landmass & Population: Iceland's landmass is about the same size as Great Britain. But while Great Britain has over 60 million inhabitants, Iceland's total population is only 300,000, most of whom live in and around the city of Reykjavik. Since half of those people are minors or the elderly, the entire country is maintained by only 150,000 people.
• Horses: Iceland horses are a unique breed. They are small, like ponies, with a heavy coat to withstand the cold Icelandic winters. To keep the     breed pure, Icelandic law forbids horses from being imported into the country and once an Icelandic horse is exported it is not allowed to return. All Icelandic horses are privately owned and we frequently saw them grazing in fields along the highway. David stopped to let us get out and take photos, and as we approached the fence, the horses walked straight to us. They were friendly and gentle.    

After nine-hours on the Golden Circle Tour, we said goodbye to David, and after four days, we were ready to say goodbye to Iceland as well. That evening, we ate dinner and packed. The next day, we got up at a refreshing 4:30 a.m. to catch a bus to the airport, and by one o'clock, we were at our apartment in Paris.

The one that got away

Iceland is famous for good views of the aurora borealis, also known as the northern lights. Every night we got up and looked outside, and every night, we saw only stars and darkness. Well, not EVERY night. Once, I got up at 2 a.m. and saw some flashing lights off in the distance. Excited to share my discovery, I woke Joe up and he got dressed in all the appropriate layers. He stepped outside then patiently pointed out that is was just the airport strobe light. I felt both a little silly and sorry for waking him. Later, we learned that the northern lights are best viewed from dark areas on the plateau and through a camera lens, so maybe better luck next time.

Summary

Iceland was cold, warm, expensive, and memorable. David said that June is his favorite month, because most of the winter snow has melted, the roads are open, and wildflowers abound. July and August, though, are the warmest months and the usual tourist season.

If taking a tour, I recommend booking with David, who owns and operates Iceland Horizon. He is a British man who has worked and lived in Iceland over the past 20 years. He gives an engaging overview of the history, economics, and culture of Iceland, and because his mini-bus and groups are small, he has the flexibility to take a little more or less time at each location, and include extras like stopping to pet the horses.

For my friends in Seattle, I can recommend Icelandair. There is a direct 7-hour flight from Seattle to Keflavik Airport, barely longer than a headwind journey to Hawaii. Also, Icelandair allows for free layovers, in case you're on your way to... let's say...Paris!

If you would like to see more pictures of this trip to Iceland, visit: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?id=1036573872&aid=2080857 

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