Reykjavík Grapevine - jan. 2020, Blaðsíða 36

Standing in a heated, pine-panelled
room, putting off changing into my
swimsuit to bathe in the outdoor hot-
pot Giljabö!, I began to question all
decisions that brought me to this exact
point in life. The temperature outside
was -6° Celsius. My coat hung on a hook
fashioned from an old horseshoe, and
my bag rested on a bench topped with a
goat hide. Outside the changing room,
a series of rugged cliffs carved out a
canyon, covered in fresh snow and bi-
sected by a shallow river.
Half an hour ago, my wife, Harpa,
and I sat in a warm, well-lighted cafe
in Húsafell, chatting with our guide,
Olga, as we waited for the maintenance
staff to clear the snowy path to the rus-
tic facilities. The storm last night had
blocked the way. “He doesn’t think it’s
a good idea, but I think it’s fine,” Olga
shrugged. I suspected he was probably
just grumpy about having to clear the
way for two overeager lovebirds. Hon-
estly, I couldn’t blame him.
A long-awaited journey
In order to make the hike over to the
cliffs’ edge and down a slippery set
of stairs, Harpa and I donned slip-re-
sistant shoe-covers. The weather had
caused our journey to be postponed
more than once, and our faces were
pummeled with falling snow as we
made the trek; we wondered if per-
haps we should have stayed home. But
we were determined, as we had an an-
niversary to celebrate.
Bearing this in mind, I took a deep
breath, pulled on my swim trunks,
braced myself and confidently ap-
proached the door. The counterweight
that kept the door shut lowered as I
opened it, and the whipping wind and
snow greeted me eagerly, stinging
every bit of exposed flesh. I sprinted
to the pool where my wife, clearly the
braver half of our partnership, was al-
ready waiting.
We were alone in the canyon and
as soon as I joined her in the warm
waters of Giljabö!, all doubts, worries,
and regrets melted along with the chill
in my bones as we popped open the
champagne.
Three baths, three
adventures
There are three baths to choose from
in the Húsafell canyon. Ur! (Earth) is
the warmest, at roughly 41° Celsius,
while Hringur (ring), modelled after
Snorri Sturluson’s own secret hot tub
in Reykholt, is 10º cooler. Down a flag-
stone path is a nameless bath, which
is the coldest of the three and, one a
day like my wife and I experienced, is
clearly reserved for those who wish
to assert their dominance and prove
their insanity.
All three were constructed using
methods dating back to the 10th cen-
tury, and the entire site was made from
locally sourced, natural materials.
Stone from the canyon floor was used
to construct the pools. The changing
rooms were built using salvaged tim-
ber from old telephone poles. Even the
hooks on the walls and the goatskins
on the benches in the changing rooms
were sourced from local farms. The
entire setup was put together with the
goal of preserving the integrity of the
canyon while also allowing discerning
adventurers to take in a magnificent
view.
Soaking it in
We opted to take in the view from the
warmest bath. Sheer cliff faces sur-
rounded us on all sides, almost com-
pletely blocking out any wind. Tum-
bling down the cliff were a series of
waterfalls that had frozen over. The
surrounding cold air was soon forgot-
ten as we soaked in the hot water.
With cup holders built in the water-
side snow, we sat quietly, the whistling
wind our only soundtrack, enjoying the
space between us that our silence oc-
cupied, appreciating the moment. You
can’t find this in any public swimming
pool in Iceland. No, this type of tucked
away experience is only available for
those adventurous sorts who enjoy
minimalistic outdoor experiences.
Here, there is no gift shop and the exit
is through the same way you came.
You’ll find no bar. If you want drinks,
bring them yourself. But the tradeoff
is a splendid opportunity to bathe in
a hot spring in the same way as the
Vikings and medieval chieftains did
a thousand years ago. You may not get
an overpriced souvenir for it, but the
memories will stay with you forever.
Harpa and I clinked our glasses and
I stole a kiss. We both knew one thing:
this spot, right here, right now was the
best in the world.
Distance from
Reykjavík:
132 km

How to get there:
Route 49 to
!jó"ve#ur 1,
then follow
Bor#arfjar"ar-
braut and
Hálsaveitarve#ur
to Húsafell
Trip provided by:
Húsafell Canyon
Baths
husafell.com
36The Reykjavík Grapevine
Issue 01— 2020
Soakin! In Love
Travel
The cosy changing roon Trying out the hot tubs
Di"cult journey, but worth it
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“We both sat qui-
etly, the whistling
wind our only
soundtrack, enjoy-
ing the space be-
tween us that our
silence occupied,
appreciating the
moment.”
A relaxin# bath in
the Húsafell canyon baths
Words: Sam O’Donnell Photos: Art Bicnick