Swimming in Iceland

During my stay in Iceland it rained – a lot. But that doesn’t stop the Icelanders. After the blue skies disappeared, I did what all good Icelanders do – I went swimming. This country has a huge number of pools for a population of only 300,000. The smallest towns have truly impressive facilities and Reykjavik has many. Most of these are filled with the country’s abundant geothermal waters. On a particularly dreary afternoon, I walked along the water to Laugardalur, Reykjavik’s large park. It addition to the newer indoor competition-size pool, outside I found an older official-size pool, connected to a newer, shallower one designed for children and families.  A huge swirling water slide shot downward into waters warmer than the cooler lap pool.  There were also hot pots, as hot tubs are referred to here, each one progressively warmer, and a steam bath. People of all ages swam here on a day when the high temperature was 10 degrees Celsius (50 Fahrenheit). I delighted in the warm water and barely noticed the chilly drizzle, as signs all around advertised the stress-relieving properties of the warm waters.

I wondered to myself why Iceland has not produced more international swimming champions, given the prevalence of water in their lives: my conclusion is that they enjoy the pools more for relaxation than for a workout.

Later in the week, after hours in the saddle or walking through challenging terrain leading a horse, a trip to the pool in Hveragerdi was a well-earned reward. It is an incredible facility, considering the town has a population of 2300 – slightly fewer than my hometown.  The pool is one of the oldest in Iceland.  I tried the steam bath, which was too much for me after about two minutes, but its hot pots were my favorite – one kept at 38 (100.4  F) and the other at 40 degrees (104 F). The cooler pot is designed for families and children – one steps down into a wide shelf of no more than 10 inches of water. I begin sitting, but soon stretched out until I was lying down in the volcanic spring water.  The hotter pot is shoulder-deep on an adult.

These tubs do not have jets constantly turned on like in our hot tubs. Occasionally one has a single jet that is operated by a switch, as in Hveragerdi’s hottest pot.  It is so strong that the bather must first put a loop-like strap around to hold her steady as the stream literally punches the back.

During one of my visits we found an insulated, heavy plastic plunge tub placed next to the hottest pot.  It felt far colder than what I imagined 12 degree (53 F) water would be like.  I gingerly lowered myself until I was sitting with my legs outstretched and the water reached my collar-bone.  As a friend advised, the key is not to move, not to disturb the water.  My feet, specifically the toes, and my knees were most sensitive.  I lasted what seemed an eternity, but what was probably no longer than 90 seconds.  I quickly returned to the neighboring hot water and relished the ticklish feeling that soon climbed up my legs.

On my last afternoon I ran into a farmer I had met at the round-up two days before. This could only  happen in a place like Iceland!  She and her sons were making one of their thrice weekly pilgrimages to the pool. It was a fitting close to my Icelandic adventure; having delved deeply into the fascinating rural culture, I had the opportunity to chat with a new friend recounting the round-up and what we had all accomplished.  Soaking in the shallow tub she told me how she loved winter at the pool the most. I could almost feel the snow landing on me, as I imagined the warmth embracing me on a dark winter’s afternoon.