Steam, sulphur and silica

We woke up in the dark this morning. It was a surreal experience, made all the more surreal when we discovered that sunrise happens in these parts at 10.30am! I saw for the first time, as we breakfasted in the dark, with the wind howling outside, that this sort of thing could get a bit too much after a while!

We left the house in the dark, and Karl drove us to the “Bridge Between Continents.” What I didn’t realise is that the North American and the Eurasian tectonic plates rub against each other directly underneath Iceland. It’s why the place is so volatile. 

Thoranna and Karl come from towns no more than twenty kilometres away from each other, but they joke that Karl is European whilst his wife is American. 

We stood underneath the bridge as the first rays of dawn started to creep across the sky. 

Dawn was a pink, mauve and lavender affair in the fresh wintery air. We’ve been told many times how lucky we’ve been with the weather and today, the sun shone constantly... 

We went from the bridge to a lighthouse a kilometre further along the coast and marvelled at the shimmering winter wonderland which was being revealed by the rising sun. The ground was covered with a thick hoar frost and the lighthouse started glowing a sort of peach colour. Long icicles hung from the edges of the cliffs. I realised that I haven’t seen an icicle since my childhood (when I used to see them all the time.)

From the lighthouse, we walked down the hill to an area where huge clouds of steam were bursting out of black rocks. The air stank of sulphur and the steam was a brown-yellow colour in front of the sun. The zone had been set up so that people could safely walk around without getting burned by the roasting hot gushes of steam shooting out of the ground. 

A series of wooden walkways led us through the plumes of steam and smoke, and, rather thrillingly, the sun was in exactly the right spot in the sky to create the ghostly phenomenon of Brocken Spectres. This meant that our shadows were actually being cast onto the wall of steam in front of us, and because the sun was low in the sky and directly behind us, our shadows started to appear in completely circular rainbows. It was surreal and deeply magical and we spent at least half an hour getting absolutely drenched by salty, sulphur-filled water whilst filming the phenomenon! 

From there we headed to Grindavik, the little town where Karl grew up. We had lunch in a fabulous little cafe within a complex where most of the town’s shops were situated. It’s very much a local space for local people. The shopping centre was no bigger than an average-sized supermarket, but there were a number of rooms within, housing individual establishments including a hair dressers and a women’s clothing shop. The walls of the corridors between the rooms were filled with photographs of different amateur sporting groups from the town over the last forty or so years. Karl found a picture of his sister in an all-female football team in the 1980s. 

Almost everyone who lives in Grindavik works in the fishing industry and we drove down to the harbour to have a look at the hustle and bustle. I’ve yet to see a whale. 

From Grindavik, we headed to the famous Blue Lagoon, an astoundingly beautiful geothermal spa complex and pool, which is probably the biggest tourist attraction in  Iceland. It bills itself as one of the 25 Wonders of the World. I’m not sure what the other 24 are, or indeed which list of Wonders of the World goes up to 25. I thought there were ten but then again, I thought one of them was the hanging gardens of Babylon which I don’t think is an actual thing...

Whatever the case, the place is stunningly beautiful. The water, which is filled with silica (a sort of white, mineral-rich mud) is a very light blue colour and it reaches temperatures of 100 degrees, which makes it utterly glorious on a cold, winter’s day. 

The lagoon is in a snow-filled dell, and the water is really buoyant, so you sort of bob about in the steamy, misty, toothpaste-coloured water. We felt like those wonderful red-faced Japanese snow monkeys who flock to the Jigokundani hot springs to keep warm in the winter. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, google them, and then imagine Nathan and me! We were so blissed out that we missed two minor earthquakes which happened whilst we were there! 

The area around the Blue Lagoon is the place where the most ferocious tectonic activity is currently taking place. The locals don’t seem to be hugely concerned. I chatted to a lady in a petrol station this afternoon who said she’d been experiencing tremors all afternoon. 94, according to the news, in the last 24 hours. This evening there were two more significant tremors. Icelanders are being very pragmatic. We’re told the epicentre of the earthquakes is in a “convenient” place where any lava flow would probably avoid a key power station and a major road. That’s alright then! 

This is evening we drove to Thoranna and Karl’s summer house in the southern mountains of Iceland, which is the warmest part of the country, and an area where trees grow. (A relatively rare sight in Iceland.)

The journey took us along the beautiful southern coastal road. As the sun started to set, the sky went the palest blue colour, which was reflected onto the snowy mountains.

The summer house is made of wood, and it’s absolutely wonderful. It reminded me of a far grander version of the hut little Heidi lived in with her Grandfather on the Swiss Alps! There’s even a little loft bedroom... but sadly no hole in the roof to look at the stars! 

The Northern Lights returned - fuzzier and more covered in cloud than last night - and Thoranna gave us baked cheese and apricot jam before we all jumped into their hot tub. We went to bed just as a huge green arc started to stretch across the sky. 

We were desperately troubled by news from back home that the UK has now pulled out of the EU. I can think of no place I’d rather be on this hideous night than looking at the Northern Lights in one of our neighbouring European countries, but I can’t stop my mind from telling me that I entered Iceland as a proud EU citizen and will exit it as a piece of shit ready to be thrown into the fan which Boris Johnson has gleefully erected on the White Cliffs of Dover. What will become of us, I wonder?