En route to the Blue Lagoon, a swimmable Icelandic lake, I hardened myself for a polar bear dip. I envisioned daredevil bathers darting through arctic air, sporting bikinis and speedos in lieu of parkas. A character-building frigid dip would follow, and survivors would then bask in the cool aura of victory. And the hot embrace of pneumonia.
However, as Dave and I neared the snowy enclave I noticed people of all shapes and ages wading leisurely through the opal waters. These would-be polar bear dynamos looked just tough enough to survive a thumb-wrestling match with Winnie the Poo.
As it turns out, hot springs and geysers surrounding the lagoon provide phenomenal insulation. Moreover, steam and low-hanging mist create privacy. The viscous, salty water glows opaque turquoise and buoys swimmers. Under the surface, a white clay lake floor rubs and squishes satisfyingly between the toes. I’d sooner expect such a well-administered spa experience from a $200 Brookestone device.
Visit for serenity, romance and pruney but fresh skin.