Reykjavík Grapevine - 02.02.2018, Blaðsíða 46

Þingvallavatn, Iceland’s biggest
lake, sits cradled in the snowy
tundra 45 kilometres east of
Reykjavík. Surrounded by moun-
tains and dotted with islands,
the shimmering water
recedes into the
hazy distance,
semi-frozen in
the depths of
the Icelan-
dic winter.
Shards of
i c e c l i n k
u p o n t o
t h e p e b -
b l y s h o r e
l i ke broken
glass, and the
cold rad iat i ng
upwards from the
still surface is tangible.
It’s a huge, majestic body of water
that dominates the area; a deep
blue inkblot lurking in the mono-
chrome landscape.
There are hundreds of tucked-
away cabins and summer hous-
es dotted around the shoreline,
meaning the narrow road down
the lake’s west coast is serviced
during the dark season. Even so,
the asphalt is iced over and thinly
dusted with snow. The route pass-
es a couple of farm buildings with
flickering porch lights, winding
gradually downwards, flanked by
a steep forested cliffside on one
side, and a precipitous drop to the
water on the other.
Into the valley
Not far from the lake’s southern
shore lies Nesjavellir, a geother-
mally active valley that’s home to
the Nesjavallavirkjun power sta-
tion. It also contains the Ion Ad-
venture Hotel, our destination for
the night. We circle slowly up the
long driveway towards the main
building, which sits low and dis-
creet in the landscape, protrud-
ing from the hillside supported
by an array of distinctive diagonal
struts.
After checking in, we decide to
make the most of the
remaining daylight
and head out to
ex p l or e t h e
hiking paths
that criss-
c ross t he
a r e a . O n
the hillside
o u t s i d e
the hotel,
a sign sig-
nals several
short routes to
viewpoints over
the valley. As we as-
cend the shortest trail,
it quickly becomes apparent that
we won’t get very far—the whole
area is snowed in, with the yellow
trail markers gradually vanishing
into near-vertical banks and deep
wind-sculpted snow drifts.
We scramble up as far as a
rocky outcrop that looks out to-
wards Nesjavallavirkjun. The
power station runs all-but silent-
ly, emitting billowing columns of
geothermal steam that catch the
orange evening sunbeams, cast-
ing dancing shadows over the
white plains below.
The high life
As the sun sets, the temperature
drops to energy-sapping levels,
so we return to the hotel, strid-
ing through the powdery, thigh-
deep snow. Ion is billed as luxury
accommodation, and it more
than lives up to the description.
The bedrooms are crisply deco-
rated and comfortable, coming
equipped with tasteful artwork,
king-sized beds, internet-con-
nected flat-screen TVs, and views
over the surrounding mountains.
At the far end of the hotel is
a high panorama bar with floor-
to-ceiling windows, minimalist
decor, and a tempting cocktail
menu. As we take a seat and warm
up, a snowstorm sweeps in across
the valley, the weather quickly
blotting out the pink-hued land-
scape. Shielded from the howling
winds, we look on in silent won-
der—it’s like a ringside seat to
watch the fierce elements at work.
The storm, it seems, is also
staying the night, so we head
to the hotel’s cosy restaurant to
try the set three-course dinner
menu. A bowl of creamy seafood
soup is followed by a succulent
lamb shank with sunchokes and
puréed vegetables. Full to burst-
ing after the generous main and
a milk ice cream dessert, I retire
to my room. With the sound of
the storm in the background,
I sink into the plush
mattress and a deep,
dreamless sleep.
Frozen
courtyard
B y m o r n i n g ,
the storm has
passed, leaving
the hotel semi-
buried in a blanket
of fresh snow. We
decide to try out the ho-
tel’s spa. Ingeniously located
in a courtyard under the pillared
section of the building, the out-
door hot pot is sheltered from the
wind. The water ripples in the
breeze, sending an inviting cloud
of steam into the sub-zero air.
The water in the long rectan-
gular pool comes from the power
station, and so naturally chang-
es in temperature from time to
time. It’s just deep enough for
a little swimming if there’s no-
body else around. As we bathe
and paddle, a brisk wind whips
dusty snow across the water, and
after a while I realise my
hair has developed
frosty icicles, but
a few steps away
there’s a coal-
f i red sau na
that quickly
melts them.
Icy
beaches
Fully rested and
completely relaxed,
we reluctantly check out.
The lakeside route has become
A luxurious winter getaway at
the Ion Adventure Hotel
Words: John Rogers Photos: Timothée Lambrecq
“Billow-
ing columns of
geothermal steam
catch the orange
evening sun, casting
dancing shadows
over the white
plains.”
Travel
The Great Escape
The panorama bar: a perfect ringside seat for "window weather"Hotel Ion blends into the landscape of Nesjavellir
Accommodation provided by: ioniceland.is
Car provided by: gocarrental.is
Clothing provided by: 66north.is
Distance from Reykjavík: 45 km
How to get there: Route One North, then routes 36 & 360
46The Reykjavík Grapevine
Issue 02 — 2018