Iceland (7) The Blue Lagoon, Covid Testing and Grindavik

Covid Formalities, a Grim Town and a Notorious Tourist Trap

Skyr

Iceland

We had stuff to do this morning, which meant a half-day off from the hard work of being on holiday.

But first there was breakfast. Fermented shark apart, Icelandic food specialities are thin on the ground. Douglas Adams’ Hitchhikers’ Guide to the Galaxy describes three stages of civilization:

1. Will we eat?
2. What shall we eat?
3. Where shall we eat?

British civilization, such that it is, spent an inordinately long time in stage 2. Iceland, by contrast lingered long in Stage 1, the climate hampers almost all food production (except fermented shark) and geological instability can devastate harvests – the 1785 Laki eruption (see Part 3) poisoned the grassland almost wiping out the country’s farm animals and causing a famine that killed a quarter of the human population.

Iceland’s prosperity is relatively recent and in a couple of generations they skipped from Stage 1 to Stage 3. Stage 2, the one they hardly bothered with, is where most local food specialities are born.

They do, though, boast one venerable native product; skyr - described as a ‘fresh sour milk cheese’ - was mentioned in Egil’s Saga so it has been produced for at least 800 years. We had some (freshly made, not 800 years old) with our breakfast at Borganes and it undoubtedly sits somewhere in the yoghurt-y part of the dairy spectrum. It has been promoted in the UK of late, but we already have ordinary yoghurt, Greek yoghurt, crème fraiche and fromage frais and I cannot see that it is distinctive enough to claim a niche in that crowded area (sorry, Iceland, but I might be wrong.)

Skyr (presumably named after the leader of the Labour Party)
This pot, I notice, is made by ARLA, the British Dairy Farmers Coop and is 'Icelandic style yoghurt', so not the real deal

Covid Testing

Stuffed with skyr, and other breakfast goodies, we set out on the 80km drive south from Borganes to Reykjavik. We were on Iceland’s ring road, Route 1, so although it had only one lane in each direction, it was well-made and in good repair. Being important, it does not circumnavigate the two substantial inlets on the way but crosses a 520m long bridge immediately south of Borganes and dives into a 5.7km tunnel under the Hvalfjörður at Akranes.

From Borganes south to Reykjavik and then down to Grindavik on the Reykjanes Peninsula

Reykjavik

When international travel re-opened the British government produced a short green list of countries that could be visited without requiring quarantine. Not all the green list were attractive destinations, South Georgia, for example, has few facilities for tourist who are not penguins, and no permanent population.

Iceland was the best bet (and is much warmer than South Georgia), but there were still hoops to jump through including a covid test before arriving and another before leaving. We had duly made an appointment at the appropriate clinic and followed our sat nav to a part of Reykjavik we had not previously visited.

A long row of large, ugly shops cowered behind several ranks of parked cars. This is where you come to buy electrical goods, furniture, longboats and other necessities of Icelandic life (I may have made one of those up). The sky was grey, the air was chilly and the drizzle intermittent as we found a parking space and walked towards the clinic. It would have been a poor day in November, but this was August.

The queue outside the door marked ‘covid testing’ stretched all the way to the corner and round it, 100 metres or more. We joined the end. Forty minutes later we were close enough to the door to read a small sign pointing those, like us, requiring only a rapid antigen test to a nearby, unmarked, door. There was no queue there, after wasting forty minutes we were in and out in less than five.

Grindavik

Grindavik

With our nasal passages thoroughly probed, we had a couple of hours to find lunch and reach the Blue Lagoon in accordance with the timed ticket purchased for us by Regent Holidays of Bristol. We decided to go to Grindavík.

Fifty kilometres from Reykjavik and six from the Blue Lagoon, Grindavik is the chief town of the Grindavíkurbær Municipality which covers the southern half of the Reykjanes Peninsula. The town has around 2,500 inhabitants, making it a substantial settlement by Icelandic standards.

We approached through a regimented residential district, straight roads lined with white, mainly single storey buildings, many resembling static caravans. I have observed before that Icelandic vernacular architecture is relentlessly functional, though, judging by the hotels we have visited, comfortable and well-designed within. Iceland’s population has increased fivefold since 1900, doubling since 1960, so the housing stock is mostly modern - there very few ‘traditional’ buildings outside museums.

We missed the town centre and reached the docks. Grindavik is an important fishing port, but all the boats must have been at sea as activity at the docks, was notable only by its absence.

Grindavik harbour - a hive of activity

We eventually located what I felt might be the main street. Papa’s Restaurant, on the left, looked basic, but provided us with a tolerable pizza and a good strong cup of coffee at reasonable prices. During lunch, texts from the clinic gave us the all-clear and the magic barcodes required to board a plane

Central Grindavik, Papa's to the left, Salt fish Museum to the right

A few boards around town advertised Grindavik’s Salt Fish Museum. Signage on the building must have been be minimal as it was opposite Papa’s and we never noticed. It must have limited appeal but we might have dropped in had we seen it. As regular visitors to Portugal, we are well aware of the Portuguese love affair with bacalhau (dried salt cod), traditionally obtained from Icelandic waters, which started in the age before refrigeration and continues to this very day.

Another shot of Grindavik harbour. It is no more interesting than the first, but it breaks up the text

From the 16th century until their demise in 1830, Barbary Pirates were a major nuisance in the Mediterranean. They attacked merchant shipping and raided coastal towns and villages to enslave their populations. Their activity was at its peak in the first half of the 17th century, sometimes reaching beyond the Mediterranean. In the summer of 1627 they made several raids on Iceland. 15 people were taken from Grindavik in June and transported into slavery in Algiers. This was minor compared with the 200 taken from the nearby Westman Islands in July. There is more about this in Part 4: Skógar.

The Blue Lagoon

It was time to make the short journey to the Blue Lagoon, easily identifiable from most of the peninsula by the plume of steam hanging above the lagoon and its associated power station.

The Svartsengi Geothermal Power Station was built in 1976, Svartsengi meaning black meadow is a whimsical description of the Reykjanes lava field. Superheated water from beneath the lava runs through turbines to make electricity. The plant has expanded and now has 8 steam and brine wells and 5 steam wells producing 75MW of clean electricity. It also pumps heating water to the 21,000 homes on the peninsula.

The 'black meadow' Reykjanes Peninsula outside the Blue Lagoon

The salty, silica rich water cannot be recycled and run-off produced pools in the lava. These attracted bathers and the minerals were found to alleviated the symptoms of psoriasis. A purpose built bathing area was excavated in 1987. In 1992 it became ‘The Blue Lagoon’ and has developed into one of Iceland’s biggest tourist attractions with 1.3 million visitors in 2017.

We duly joined the crowd and shuffled forward until we received our towels, locker keys and instructions. “Shower before entering the pool,” we were told. “Wash every part of yourself thoroughly.” A young man somewhat ahead of us in the queue whined loudly, “but I prefer to shower afterwards.” Had I been closer I would have told him that I thought that everybody washing before entering the pool was a good idea, and nobody said he could not shower after as well, but I was too far away and do not like to raise my voice. What annoyed me was his tone of entitlement – it is as irritating in a would be bather as in a prime minister [Update July 2022: Resigned, soon to be ex-prime minister].

Once washed and changed we met beside the trough provided for punters to wade from the heated interior to the outdoor pool.

The water is chest deep, 37-39°C and milky blue because of its high silica content. This forms a soft white mud on the bottom which is surprisingly pleasant to walk through. The water is rich in algae and salts, but has an almost neutral pH.

You can sit on the steps round the edge and treat it like a huge communal hot tub, or you can wander around on foot (nobody swims) to the various nooks and crannies of the large irregularly shape pool – and that’s about it.

There is a bar and your entry comes with a free drink, so here is Lynne standing in what for her is uncomfortably deep water, clinging on to a glass of prosecco.

Lynne at the Blue Lagoon

I had popped back to the changing room to fetch my camera for the picture above. Then Lynne got out of the pool to return the compliment. As I eased myself back in my foot slipped resulting in a more precipitate re-entry than intended and a brief immersion in the milky water. Some people spend their time slapping the silica mud all over their skin in the belief it will do them good, I managed to smear it all over my hair by accident. Fortunately, I had handed both my camera and wine-glass to Lynne before my plunge.

Malevolent water-sprite spotted at the Blue Lagoon.

And that was it – and we most certainly had second showers before departure. The Blue Lagoon is a vast tourist trap, ensnaring nearly every first-time visitor, we almost felt we had to go otherwise we would not properly have been to Iceland. But was The Blue Lagoon worth its £50+ a head entry fee? Not for us, it wasn't and and there are other, less commercial geothermal pools dotted around the countryside.

Back to Reykjavik

Back in Reykjavik we checked in to the hotel we had used last week and in the evening, again walked up Austurstræti, a street of restaurants. We found a pub-like place where the food turned out to be simple but wholesome. Why we suddenly felt we should have two beers each, for the one and only time in Iceland, I do not know, but we must have been feeling wealthy

Iceland

Part 1 Introduction to Reykjavik
Part 2 West from Reykjavik along Route 1
Part 3 A Calving Glacier, a Basalt Pavement and an Otherworldly Canyon
Part 4 Vik, Skógafoss and Skógar
Part 5 The Golden Circle, Gullfoss, Geysir and Þingvellir
Part 6 The Snæfellsnes Peninsula: Whale Watching and Fermented Shark
Part 7: Covid Testing, Grindavik and the Blue Lagoon
Part 8: A Day in Reykjavik