Blue Lagoon deserves the hype; great intro to Iceland

It was not the most obvious of girls' holidays.  Travelling together since 1999, the Northwestern Girls have done Tuscany, Berlin, Tunisia, the Cote d'Azure and a string of other locations that usually have these things in common:  wine, great food, high culture, shopping, and hopefully a bit of affordable luxury with the possibility of a spa treatment or two.

Iceland doesn't score highly on many of those factors.  But here we are.  And to ease ourselves into the more active, less food/culture/shopping itinerary, we started with the spa.

Iceland is a geologist's fantasy, with more than 200 active volcanoes and a continental rift creating one of the most dramatic landscapes on the planet.  The churning earth below also generates geisers and hot springs, channelling enough scaldingly hot water and steam to the surface to heat the whole country without the benefit of coal-fired power plants.

Ironically, in this most elemental of countries, the Blue Lagoon isn't a natural feature but a man-created result of the effluent from the nearby power plant.  As they pumped used cooling water into the lava field outside the plant, the silica and other minerals in the water turned the black rocks white, and grains of silica settled as a white sand at the base of the newly created lagoon.  The water radiated a gorgeous blue, and had now cooled enough for bathing.  Locals started sneaking onto the power plant's grounds to have a dip, and swore by the rejuvenating properties of the water.  About 20 years ago, the power company built a changing room for the public, and then started to develop the whole space for visitors.  The rest is (recent) history.

Today the lagoon is edged by a high-end spa building with sleek changing rooms, relaxation lounges, restaurants and a gift shop.  Where you can take some of that silica mud home with you for £60 a tube.   Admission starts at about £30 and heads up depending on your level of treatments and "experience".  Treatments are in the same general price range as spas around the world.  (I paid about £55 for a half-hour leg massage.)  The interior spaces are nice, but you won't see much of them because the whole point is outside.

It's open 365 days a year, no matter how cold or terrible the weather, because you can enter the water from indoors and push through a door into the lagoon beyond.  You never need to lift anything but your head above the steaming surface.  Unless you buy a drink from the waterside bar, where they'll scan your admission bracelet to charge you, then hand your drink down to water level.

On our day, the skies were leaden, the temperature hovered around freezing and sleet occasionally drove down with the steady wind.  (A warning to contact lens wearers:  they're best avoided here as the silica dust is hell once it's in your eyes.)  Mist billowed from the lagoon surface, reducing visibility to 20 yards, with glimpses further as the white fog shifted.  Thus we had to explore to discover that the lagoon is roughly the size of a football pitch, with different alcoves curving off from the edges.  There's a cave and a couple of bridges to shelter under if the precipitation is bothering you.  Most of the lagoon is kept at body temperature but there are hotter spots throughout and visitors tend to float in and out of them as they feel too hot or chilled.  At the far end from the spa building are vats of the silica mud, which you can slather with abandon since it's included with admission.

Over to one side, under a bridge, is the treatment area where spa therapists in wet suits work in all weathers.  This was my second outdoor treatment (the first being in a tent beside the Zambezi river in Zambia) and equally memorable.  But while the first was a standard massage with an amazing view, this was a unique treatment.  You start by laying across a spa table with a surface submerged about two inches below the water.  You're freezing as soon as the air hits your skin, of course, so they quickly wrap you in soaking, hot towels.  These cool off, and your therapist knows just when to whip them away, dip them into the water and then re-wrap you, giving the effect of a plunge into an icy pool in between sauna sessions.

For my treatment, I was atop the table for the first 10 minutes as my brawny, blonde therapist (classic Viking looks) used the silica mud to scrub down my limbs.  Then he pulled me off the table.  Turns out the base was a thin raft.  At this point 80% of my body was submerged, still wrapped in the hot towels. The therapist would push the rest down every few minutes to keep the heat envelope.  And then, for 20 minutes, I just floated in a cocoon of warmth while he did a deep massage on legs, calves and feet.  This was, without question, one of the most amazing physical sensations I've ever experienced.

We spent about 4.5 hours at the lagoon and, other than a short break for lunch at their cafe, sat

submerged in the water for all of it.  Time flies.  No wonder this is the No. 1 tourist attraction in Iceland.  Its status is no doubt boosted by a top notch marketing campaign and its close proximity to the airport.  Just 20 minutes, though you're not under the flight path and get no aircraft noise.  It's typical for tourists to spend their arrival day, departure day or just long layovers here.  (There's a luggage store next to the car park to assist.)

We flew in the night before, arriving just before midnight, and stayed at the adjacent Northern Lights Inn.  Basic and comfortable, it has the simplicity of an Econolodge, overlooks the power plant ringed by desolate lava fields and the surrounding air is heavy with the smell of sulphur.  Not a recipe for success, you'd think, or for charging premium rates.  (And they do.)  But as anywhere else in the world it's location, location, location.  There's no place better for the lagoon.  Settle in and you'll find the Inn is cozy with underfloor heating, has the most sumptuous duvets and pillows you've ever encountered and a good breakfast to prep you for your spa day.

I can't imagine any trip to Iceland without a repeat of the whole experience.