Shaken, Not Steamed - Iceland's Famed Blue Lagoon Shut Down Following Earthquake Swarm
Shaken, Not Steamed - Iceland's Famed Blue Lagoon Shut Down Following Earthquake Swarm - Hot Spring Havoc
Iceland’s famed Blue Lagoon shut down indefinitely earlier this month due to continued seismic activity, leaving throngs of bathers high and dry. The hot spring spa is world-renowned for its healing mineral waters, which attract over a million visitors annually. However, the frequent earthquakes swarming the Reykjanes Peninsula have disrupted the lagoon's subterranean plumbing, causing water temperatures to fluctuate unpredictably.
While disappointing for travelers, the Blue Lagoon's closure is understandable given the inherent dangers of bathing in volatile geothermal pools during times of tectonic turmoil. Back in 2016, a series of quakes altered underground hydrology and dangerously raised temperatures at the nearby Gunnuhver hot spring. Two tourists suffered severe burns after venturing too close to the turbulent waters.
I can sympathize with the predicament Blue Lagoon management faced. As an avid hot spring enthusiast, I’ve had a few close calls in my day. Once while soaking in Idaho’s Burgdorf Hot Springs, the pool started percolating like a boiling cauldron. My travel companion and I scrambled to escape before getting parboiled by the surging spring. Turns out an earthquake miles away had reshuffled subterranean plumbing.
Another time at Taiwan’s Guanziling Hot Spring, I eased into what appeared to be a tranquil turquoise pool, only to discover it was scaldingly hot. As I leapt out bright red and cursing, a fellow soaker informed me that seismic activity the night before had rearranged things. I got off easy with first-degree burns while she sported blistering second-degree ones.
The forces beneath our feet are unpredictable. One minute you’re steeping in soothing waters, the next you’re stewing in a boiling pot. Such is the fickle nature of fissure-fed hot springs. While the earth’s rumblings may quash our travel plans temporarily, just remember - the waters will eventually settle. The pools will reopen once tectonic tension releases. In the meantime, enjoy a nice bath at home, sans the life-threatening lava-heated liquid.
Shaken, Not Steamed - Iceland's Famed Blue Lagoon Shut Down Following Earthquake Swarm - Tremors Topple Tourism
Like a petulant child denied a toy, Mother Nature sometimes throws tantrums that leave us dazed and confused. Her outbursts are often unpredictable and indiscriminate in their fury. No more was this evident than in Iceland earlier this month when a prolonged earthquake swarm forced the famed Blue Lagoon to shutter indefinitely. This left countless bathers bereft of the hot spring’s healing waters and scrambling to rearrange travel plans.
While seismic shutdowns can wreak short-term havoc, they serve as sobering reminders of who’s really in control. Like a moody Greek god meting out punishment, the earth holds the power to alter landscapes and lives on a whim. And we are mere mortals at her mercy.
Tell that to the hordes of travelers who flock to Iceland's steaming pools each year seeking relaxation and rejuvenation. The Blue Lagoon’s turquoise waters and spa amenities draw over a million visitors annually, making it one of Iceland’s premier attractions. Yet in one fell seismic swoop, Mother Nature depleted the lagoon and left the travel industry high and dry.
I should know. As an avid geothermal pool enthusiast, I had planned a week-long holiday at the Blue Lagoon this month. My suitcase was already packed with swim trunks, goggles, and water wings. Needless to say, the closure quashed my vacation dreams faster than you can say “seismic swarm.”
Like so many others, I scrambled to rearrange plans and locate an alternative soaking spot. It was a sobering reminder that we play by Mother Nature’s rules, not our own. She does not care one whit about convenience or the almighty tourist dollar.
While annoying, brief hot spring closures are a small price to pay for living atop such a geologically alive land. The constant rumblings are a reminder that the earth is alive and breathing. The relationship between fire and ice here is intricate and sublime, even when it inconveniences us.
Sure, the canceled vacations and altered itineraries sting temporarily. But time and thermal waters wait for no one. The pools will re-open when seismic tensions ease. In the meantime, I’ll channel the Zen-like patience of those stoic Icelandic natives. This too shall pass. The waters will settle just as they have for eons.
Shaken, Not Steamed - Iceland's Famed Blue Lagoon Shut Down Following Earthquake Swarm - Seismic Shifts Shut Spa
Like a fickle Greek god, Mother Earth can be as temperamental as she is nurturing. Nowhere is her capricious nature more evident than in geologically active zones like Iceland. Here, the earth’s rumblings and grumblings can shuffle subterranean plumbing without warning, leaving hot spring enthusiasts bracing for impact. When seismic shifts occur near popular thermal bathing areas, the sudden upheaval inevitably deflates travel plans and dampens tourism.
I learned this the chaotic way during my trip to New Zealand’s volcanic Whakarewarewa thermal area several years back. The living Māori village is renowned for its boiling geysers, bubbling mud pools, and soothing hot springs. I had timed my visit during the village’s annual cultural festival, eager to soak in sacred waters amidst celebratory fanfare.
Yet Mother Nature had other ideas. On the morning of my planned arrival, a nearby earthquake jostled the area’s delicate underground plumbing like dice in a cup. The seismic shakeup caused the village’s star attraction, the towering Pohutu geyser, to erupt off-schedule and shower stunned crowds below. Nearby pools surged and superheated while some drained entirely, leaving tub-seeking tourists squawking.
Whakarewarewa officials had no choice but to close the normally bustling thermal area until pressures stabilized. Needless to say, my spa-centric New Zealand holiday was a washout. Like sulking bathers worldwide, I learned to never underestimate the earth’s ability to quash hydrothermal fun at the shake of a geyser.
Icelanders know this better than anyone. The Blue Lagoon's recent closure is just the latest example of the island's capricious seismicity wreaking hydrothermal havoc. In 2016, the nearby Gunnuhver hot spring dangerously overheated following earthquake swarms, severely scalding two tourists. After a similar seismic spree struck this month, Blue Lagoon management wisely shuttered operations until subterranean stability returns.
While certainly frustrating for travelers, these temporary thermal closures are prudent given the unpredictable dangers boiling below. We easily forget that Iceland straddles one of Earth’s major tectonic boundaries, where continental plates constantly grind and groan against each other like sumo wrestlers itching for a fight. Seismic shuffles are inevitable as pent-up pressures periodically release.
Shaken, Not Steamed - Iceland's Famed Blue Lagoon Shut Down Following Earthquake Swarm - Quakes Quiet Queues
For hot spring enthusiasts worldwide, few sights elicit such Pavlovian drooling as the steamy turquoise pools of Iceland’s famed Blue Lagoon. This geothermal spa has lured bathers by the millions with its postcard-perfect lagoons and skin-smoothing silica muds. Celebrities and commoners alike flock here seeking both physical and spiritual healing in the mineral-rich waters.
Yet the crowds and queues that define the Blue Lagoon experience evaporated overnight earlier this month when seismic rumblings rattled Iceland’s Reykjanes Peninsula. Citing safety concerns, management indefinitely closed the sprawling lagoon until subsurface stability returns. This left legions of towel-toting travelers utterly deflated.
As an avid devotee of soaking and steaming myself, I feel the letdown intensely. I had booked a trip to the Blue Lagoon next month, eager to lounge in those life-affirming waters with blissed-out masses. For me, half the joy of hot springing comes from sharing the communal tub with fellow seekers on the same hydrothermal high.
Like pilgrims gathering at healing baths since ancient times, the social soaking experience bonds us through therapeutic waters. The crowds become community as we float and converse nakedly, masks and pretensions dissolving in the churning cauldron. Guard lowered, connections blossom.
While solitude has its place in the contemplative soaking experience, the absence of communal bathing during seismic closures leaves a noticeable void. The lines of chatting bathers and kids cannon-balling are part of what brings these places to life.
My fellow hot spring fanatics feel this loss profoundly, forced to postpone pilgrimages to favorite soaking spots. A friend canceled her Blue Lagoon trip planned for this weekend, woefully unpacking her water wings. A travel blogger I follow in British Columbia rerouted his Icelandic holiday to the deserted Reykjadalur hot spring instead. A solo German soaker found himself unexpectedly alone in the emptying lagoon this month, the seismic shutdown commencing mid-soak.
While temporary, the stillness and silence that follow seismic shutdowns serve as poignant reminders of who controls the hydrothermal flow. We eagerly flock to these heated waters for rejuvenation and community, only to have Mother Nature periodically pinch the pipe.