Laugar, Hveragerði og Reykjadalur
Every Reyjkavík neighborhood has a swimming pool slash spa with geothermal hot pots of varying degrees celsius markt above each, 34-38º, 38-40º, 40-42º. I visited one every morning, my three days there. Every pool has some degree of steam rising off it.
Athugið! You're required to shower beforehand, naked, without swimming trunks, and if you're not sure where to suds up there's a helpful picture. There is no privacy in the locker room showers. Everyone here is devoid of any sense of our propriety. There is absolutely no reason why one of these shouldn't be in the locker rooms of every gym and public swimming pool in this country. I mean, here.
Outside of Reykjavík, it's easy enough to find a geothermal area, and where there is steam rising out of the ground and mountainsides, a steaming stream and a geothermal spa is nearby. I found a popular one in the mountain behind Hveragerði. I stayed at the NHFÍ Spa and Medical Clinic as a guest, not a patient, but a guest, but I still felt I was in a psychiatric hospital, perhaps described well enough by these averagedinks (my first link to the outside blog world!), to be fair though, not a reflection on the how they ran the Clinic. „You're only staying two days? I'm here for two weeks“ ... „I'm here three weeks“ ... „I've been here four years“... Comments like that, all outdoing themselves with the severities of their maladies. The staff were great. I had a back massage, was askt what\where my problems were, I didn't know, but I'd long guesst something was desperately wrong with me. She discovered them quick enough, with an oh my you really need help, she proceeded to make my back feel worse, but not her fault that I'd let my back get so badly out of whack.
Then the mud bath that I might not've done without some encouragement (thanks Carey). This is what I didn't expect. I was instructed to do the sauna, proper, with shower, hot sauna, frigid shower, sauna with hot water over the coals, frigid shower, then pad over to the mud room in my fluffy white robe. „Hang your robe there and take a shower, she indicates. „Eh, I hang my robe over there? „Já, and take a shower. „I hang it over there?“ That means I then walk over to the other side of the room nude and take the shower. In front of her. „So, I do this nude? „Já.
Ahh. I remove my propriety and my fluffy robe and take a shower. Then I walk into the mud bath area, where there are maybe eight ceramic tubs above the floor, full of black volcanic mud, not bubbling mud, but still geothermically heated. There's a twenty-something svelte blonde woman to help get my nude body into the mud bath safely without slipping on the wet floor. I'm more concerned about my nude body than slipping on the wet floor. Determined not to slip nor make eye-contact. I step inside and lay down in the mud. You don't sink in, it's not quicksand mud. I needed a young blond woman to press each thigh into the mud and my shoulders into the mud and then scoop mud and spread it over my chest and be askt if there was too much mud, if it was too heavy on my chest. I'm now covered in warm smooth black volcanic mud. „I be back in 20 minutes.“ She leaves, turning off the lights. I look down and see that I'm not quite presst down into the mud as much as I should be. My hips aren't presst down at all. I try to wiggle down into the mud bath and since that was unsuccessful, I scoopt up a lot of mud to, to eh, and that was really unsuccessful, since mud is watery and flows away.
This does get better and worse.
„Get up now slowly, so not to fall, and scrape off as much mud as possible and step out.“ I do that and I see that she's in rubber boots and a long rubber apron and with a hose. „Stand up while I rinse the mud off.“ I have her wash the mud off my back and back of my legs and back of my hips. That done, I sigh, and turn around to have front of my body rinsed off, I'll describe this quickly, I raise my hands high above my head and she hoses down my front, getting my underarms rinsed off, my chest and hips and groin and thighs and feet. There's so much mud and water on the floor running into the drain! „You can now go to the shower again.“
I get a 20 minute white sheet and blanket wrap-up, tightly bound and lie on a bed in the dark and sweat so much the sheets are soakt. I'm done. It was suggested that I relax in a Lazyboy-like chair for a while, but I skippt that.
I was off to Reykjadalur and Varmá. For another spa treatment. Reykjadalur is a valley leading up into the mountains behind Hveragerði. Popular hiking route. HÆTT! are the signs posted along the route, steaming holes of sulfurous fumes or bubbling mud or boiling water but more beautiful was the valley's thick grass meadows with a meandering stream and the steam rising up over it. But do not touch or get scalded. The hiking path has a popular destination that I'm off for. At some point about 6 km into the mountain valley the stream is dammed off into multiple pools, and though still steaming, there are a number of very very cold meltwater streams from above flowing into the Varmá, the Warm River. And dozens of hikers having strippt and put on their swim suits and all relaxing in the stream. Which really was an incredible experience. There were parts of the stream that would suddenly become scalding and just as quickly become freezing and just as quickly become standard hot tub temperatures, which you had to seek out. This was where somehow I had no problem stripping as anyone else did (now devoid of any sense of propriety), putting on my swim suit and finding a spot to soak in. It was over an hour before I decided to get dresst again and head back. And the one thing that really caught my attention, was that after an hour soaking, my fingers hadn't become prunes, like they'd've done in a hot tub or swimming.
Við Fjöruborðid, Stokkseyri
Outside of Reykjavík, it's easy enough to find a geothermal area, and where there is steam rising out of the ground and mountainsides, a steaming stream and a geothermal spa is nearby. I found a popular one in the mountain behind Hveragerði. I stayed at the NHFÍ Spa and Medical Clinic as a guest, not a patient, but a guest, but I still felt I was in a psychiatric hospital, perhaps described well enough by these averagedinks (my first link to the outside blog world!), to be fair though, not a reflection on the how they ran the Clinic. „You're only staying two days? I'm here for two weeks“ ... „I'm here three weeks“ ... „I've been here four years“... Comments like that, all outdoing themselves with the severities of their maladies. The staff were great. I had a back massage, was askt what\where my problems were, I didn't know, but I'd long guesst something was desperately wrong with me. She discovered them quick enough, with an oh my you really need help, she proceeded to make my back feel worse, but not her fault that I'd let my back get so badly out of whack.
Then the mud bath that I might not've done without some encouragement (thanks Carey). This is what I didn't expect. I was instructed to do the sauna, proper, with shower, hot sauna, frigid shower, sauna with hot water over the coals, frigid shower, then pad over to the mud room in my fluffy white robe. „Hang your robe there and take a shower, she indicates. „Eh, I hang my robe over there? „Já, and take a shower. „I hang it over there?“ That means I then walk over to the other side of the room nude and take the shower. In front of her. „So, I do this nude? „Já.
Ahh. I remove my propriety and my fluffy robe and take a shower. Then I walk into the mud bath area, where there are maybe eight ceramic tubs above the floor, full of black volcanic mud, not bubbling mud, but still geothermically heated. There's a twenty-something svelte blonde woman to help get my nude body into the mud bath safely without slipping on the wet floor. I'm more concerned about my nude body than slipping on the wet floor. Determined not to slip nor make eye-contact. I step inside and lay down in the mud. You don't sink in, it's not quicksand mud. I needed a young blond woman to press each thigh into the mud and my shoulders into the mud and then scoop mud and spread it over my chest and be askt if there was too much mud, if it was too heavy on my chest. I'm now covered in warm smooth black volcanic mud. „I be back in 20 minutes.“ She leaves, turning off the lights. I look down and see that I'm not quite presst down into the mud as much as I should be. My hips aren't presst down at all. I try to wiggle down into the mud bath and since that was unsuccessful, I scoopt up a lot of mud to, to eh, and that was really unsuccessful, since mud is watery and flows away.
This does get better and worse.
„Get up now slowly, so not to fall, and scrape off as much mud as possible and step out.“ I do that and I see that she's in rubber boots and a long rubber apron and with a hose. „Stand up while I rinse the mud off.“ I have her wash the mud off my back and back of my legs and back of my hips. That done, I sigh, and turn around to have front of my body rinsed off, I'll describe this quickly, I raise my hands high above my head and she hoses down my front, getting my underarms rinsed off, my chest and hips and groin and thighs and feet. There's so much mud and water on the floor running into the drain! „You can now go to the shower again.“
I get a 20 minute white sheet and blanket wrap-up, tightly bound and lie on a bed in the dark and sweat so much the sheets are soakt. I'm done. It was suggested that I relax in a Lazyboy-like chair for a while, but I skippt that.
I was off to Reykjadalur and Varmá. For another spa treatment. Reykjadalur is a valley leading up into the mountains behind Hveragerði. Popular hiking route. HÆTT! are the signs posted along the route, steaming holes of sulfurous fumes or bubbling mud or boiling water but more beautiful was the valley's thick grass meadows with a meandering stream and the steam rising up over it. But do not touch or get scalded. The hiking path has a popular destination that I'm off for. At some point about 6 km into the mountain valley the stream is dammed off into multiple pools, and though still steaming, there are a number of very very cold meltwater streams from above flowing into the Varmá, the Warm River. And dozens of hikers having strippt and put on their swim suits and all relaxing in the stream. Which really was an incredible experience. There were parts of the stream that would suddenly become scalding and just as quickly become freezing and just as quickly become standard hot tub temperatures, which you had to seek out. This was where somehow I had no problem stripping as anyone else did (now devoid of any sense of propriety), putting on my swim suit and finding a spot to soak in. It was over an hour before I decided to get dresst again and head back. And the one thing that really caught my attention, was that after an hour soaking, my fingers hadn't become prunes, like they'd've done in a hot tub or swimming.
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| Hiking down Reykjadalur, the clouds have lifted and the cascades of the river are now visible. Note in the distance, the steam rising from the river as it meanders there. Yes, the cascades here are not steaming, but it is scalding hot all the way down to the bottom of the canyon where it spreads out and continues to steam as it meanders into and around Hveragerði. |
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| Reykjadalur |
Við Fjöruborðid, Stokkseyri
Not to overdo it, but after the climb down from Reykjadalur, I discovered that I'd misst the evening meal at the spa by several hours. No problem. It was still early enough and Stokkseyri village on the south coast wasn't but 30 minutes away. This fishing village on the sea has a well-recommended seafood restaurant, Við Fjöruborðið ("At the Seashore"). Its famous lobster soup and a beer would satisfy the day and it did. I did look enviously at a pair tucking into a huge plate of fried lobster in butter, but that would be another day....
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