Iceland (Lonely Planet, 7th Edition) - Fran Parnell [84]
A little further south, just off the main road, is the so-called Bridge Between Two Continents. It’s basically a photo stop – a bridge spanning a sand-filled gulf between the North American and European plates.
In the far southwest of the peninsula the landscape breaks down into wild volcanic crags and sea cliffs. The black beaches near Sandvíkur stood in for Iwo Jima in Clint Eastwood’s WWII epic Flags of Our Fathers (2006). Several bizarre-looking factories here exploit geothermal heat to produce salt from sea water and to provide electricity for the national grid. Orkuverið Jörð (Power Plant Earth; 422 5200; www.powerplantearth.is; adult/child Ikr1000/600; 11.30am-3.30pm May-Oct, 11.30am-3.30pm Thu-Sun Nov-Apr), based inside one of these factories, is an interesting interactive exhibition about the world’s energy supplies. You also get a glimpse into the vast, spotless turbine hall, and can meander along a concrete culvert down to the seashore afterwards to watch 67°C waste water steaming into the cold waves. (It’s much more exciting than that sentence sounds!)
One of the most wild and wonderful spots is Valahnúkur, where a dirt track leads off the main road through 13th-century lava fields down to the most desolate cliffs imaginable. You can clamber up to the ruins of the oldest lighthouse (1878) in Iceland, destroyed by a devastating earthquake, and contemplate the fragility of life and the futility of everything. From here you can see the flat-topped rocky crag of Eldey, 14km out to sea, which is home to the world’s largest gannet colony. Some claim the last great auk was killed and eaten here, though this is disputed by Faeroe islanders, who insist that the event occurred at Stóra Dímun. Today Eldey is a protected bird reserve.
Back towards the main road is a steaming multicoloured geothermal area. This includes the hot spring Gunnuhver, named after the witch Gunna, who was trapped by magic and dragged into the boiling water to her death.
Pick a bleak and blasted day to appreciate the last natural wonder before reaching Grindavík. About 7km east of Gunnuhver, slabs of cracked black lava are battered by grey breakers and waves spray up inside the churning, cauldron-shaped hole Brimketil.
Return to beginning of chapter
BLUE LAGOON
As the Eiffel Tower is to Paris, as Disney World is to Florida, so the Blue Lagoon (Bláa Lónið; 420 8800; www.bluelagoon.com; adult/12-15yr €23/7, towel/swimsuit/robe hire €4/4/7; 8am-9pm Jun-Aug, 10am-8pm Sep-May; ) is to Iceland…with all the positive and negative connotations that implies. Those who say it’s too expensive, too clinical, too crowded are kind of right, but you’ll be missing something special if you don’t go.
Set in a tortured black lava field, just off the road between Keflavík and Grindavík, the milky-blue spa is fed by water (at a perfect 38°C) from the futuristic Svartsengi geothermal plant. The silver towers of the plant provide an off-the-planet scene-setter for your swim; add roiling clouds of steam and people daubed in blue-white silica mud, and you’re in another world.
The lagoon has been imaginatively landscaped with hot pots, wooden decks and a piping-hot waterfall that delivers a powerful hydraulic massage – it’s like being pummelled by a troll. There are also two steam rooms and a sauna.
The superheated sea water is rich in blue-green algae, mineral salts and fine silica mud, which condition and exfoliate the skin – sounds like advertising-speak, but you really do come out as soft as a baby’s bum. The water is always hottest near the vents where it emerges, and the surface is several degrees warmer than the bottom.
For extra relaxation, you can lie on a floating lilo and have a masseuse knead out your knots (€13/26/35/66 per 10/20/30/60 minutes); be aware, though – you need to book spa treatments sometimes days in advance. The complex also includes a cafe, restaurant and shop selling Blue Lagoon products.
Three warnings: