Iceland Tour - Laugarvatn

Johnson Zhang

On 23rd August 2025, I travelled to Laugarvatn. Nestled in the heart of Iceland's southwest, Laugarvatn is a small, enchanting geothermal village that feels like a warm hug amid the country's dramatic, untamed landscapes. Named after its namesake lake: Laugarvatn, which translates to "Hot Spring Lake", this charming settlement is far more than just a pit stop on the iconic Golden Circle route; it's a destination where Iceland's raw natural power and cozy, community spirit coexist in perfect harmony. The Golden Circle's wonders awaited: Þingvellir's historic rifts and the geysirs - but I knew this little geothermal village would linger as the perfect prologue: a soft, steaming introduction to the wild, wonderful adventure ahead. By late morning, I was on the Golden Circle: a 300-kilometer loop that strings together three of Iceland's most awe-inspiring natural and historical wonders. It's not just a road; it's a crash course in the country's soul, weaving through landscapes that tell stories of fire, ice, and human history. First up: Þingvellir National Park. As I stepped out of the bus, the air felt crisp and charged. This isn't just any park, it's where Iceland's tectonic plates collide. The North American and Eurasian plates are slowly pulling apart here, creating a rift valley that's both eerie and magnificent. I walked along the crevices, staring down at the deep, moss-covered gorges, and even dipped a hand into the Silfra fissure, where crystal-clear glacial water fills the gap between the plates. It's surreal to stand in a place where the earth itself is splitting, like watching history unfold in slow motion. And beyond the geology, Þingvellir holds Iceland's cultural heart. Standing there, I could almost hear the echoes of ancient debates. After soaking in Þingvellir, we moved on to the Geysir Geothermal Area. Here, the earth's heat bubbles to the surface in a frenzy of steam and spray. The star is Strokkur, a geyser that erupts every 5–10 minutes, shooting a column of boiling water 20–30 meters into the air. I waited, camera in hand, as the ground rumbled and the pool below churned, then boom! Water exploded upward, catching the sunlight like a diamond spray, before crashing back down. It's a quick show, but unforgettable: raw, untamed energy in action. The area smells of sulphur, sharp and earthy, a reminder of the volcanoes churning beneath. I snapped a handful of photos: proof of that fleeting, powerful moment, before it was time to go. Finally, we reached Gullfoss Falls, the "Golden Falls" and wow! It took my breath away. The Hvítá River plunges 32 meters over two tiers, crashing into a narrow canyon with a roar that shakes the air. Mist rises in clouds, catching the light to create fleeting rainbows, and when I got close, the spray kissed my face, cool and invigorating. It's not just big. It's alive, a force of nature that makes you feel tiny in the best way. I stood there, watching the water thunder down, and understood why it's a symbol of Iceland's wild beauty. Just as I was about to leave Gullfoss, its thundering waters still ringing in my ears, I spotted a marker near the exit labeled "Verndari Gullfoss". Curious, I leaned in, and quickly learned it honors Sigríður Tómasdóttir, the waterfall's "protector". Back in the early 1900s, investors wanted to dam Gullfoss for hydroelectric power: something that would've destroyed its wild beauty. Sigríður, whose family owned the land, fought hard to stop it: she walked to Reykjavík (a grueling trip back then) again and again to protest, even threatening to throw herself into the falls if plans moved forward. Her stubborn, passionate fight worked, Gullfoss stayed intact, for us to see today. It hit me then: the waterfall I gaped at wasn't just luck, it was saved by one person who refused to let it disappear. A small, powerful story, tucked right there by the exit. The time to say goodbye to Laugarvatn arrived with a wisp of geothermal steam curling over the lake, as if the village itself was breathing out a soft farewell. This wasn't just leaving a pit stop on the Golden Circle; it was saying goodbye to a place that had wrapped me in its warm, geothermal embrace, a quiet haven that balanced Iceland's wildness with the coziness of a small village. Goodbye for now, Laugarvatn. You are a village of steam and sunlit lakes, of crusty geothermal bread and cozy cafes, of a warmth that cuts through Iceland's chill like a hug. And one day, I'll return: to soak in your baths as the sun sets, to wander your lakeside path again, and to fall in love with your gentle, geothermal charm all over.