To my lips wine has no taste, the visitation never ends,
my mind flies home to thee, dearest of all to my heart.
—Old Norse verse
Drifting apart from one another at a rate of an inch a year, the North American and Eurasian continental tectonic plates meet on the ocean floor at a landform known as the Mid-Atlantic Ridge. This ridge was first discovered in the 1870s during the process of determining a future transatlantic telegraph cable route, and its existence was confirmed by sonar less than a hundred years ago while mapping the ocean floor for the U.S. military. About ten thousand miles long, running on a curving path from the Arctic Ocean to near the southern tip of Africa, it is the crest of the longest mountain range on earth, created between two hundred and two hundred-fifty million years ago. Along its entirety, just one part rises above sea level, just outside the Arctic Circle, in Iceland, at a site named Þingvellir (Thingvellir). In 930 AD, about nine hundred and forty years before the discovery of the ridge, the world’s first parliament, known as the Alþingi (Allthing), assembled for the first time at Þingvellir, to found the nation of Iceland, perhaps intuitively understanding that the spot had great earthly significance.
Iceland, a country about the same size as the state of Kentucky, includes both continental plates, and it is located where the Arctic Ocean and the Atlantic Ocean meet. The predominant biome is tundra, with widespread lava fields and cold deserts; the inland is a plateau of sand and lava with mountains and glaciers. Environmental conditions are severe, and systems are delicately balanced. Only twenty to twenty-five percent of the country is habitable, mostly along the south and western coasts, and sixty percent of the country’s three hundred twenty-five thousand residents make their home in the capital, Reykjavic. About eleven percent of the land is covered with glaciers—ice sheets thick enough to move under their own weight. There are over two hundred named glaciers there, including Europe’s largest, Vatnajökull, which is about three times the size of Luxembourg or Rhode Island. Meanwhile, the Gulf Stream brings warm water and air currents from the tropics, tempering the arctic conditions and thawing parts of Iceland in the summer. Because the average annual temperature is five degrees Celsius, freezing and thawing can occur with just a small change in temperature.
Since the 1970s, Iceland has experienced a rise in temperature, and receding glaciers are easily witnessed. Glacial movement, melt-off, glacial rivers, waterfalls and Jökulhlaup or glacial lake outburst floods (caused by accumulation of meltwater due to geothermal activity underneath the glacier) are all common in Iceland. Occasionally, the sudden release of pressure from a glacial lake outburst triggers volcanic eruptions. The glacial water is used to produce hydroelectricity, and eighty percent of the country’s energy is produced this way. An increase in glacial run-off means a potential increase in green energy production. But there are risks, as well: as the ice melts and pressure on volcanic systems is released, eruptions could occur with greater frequency at larger scales.
Geothermal Energy
Iceland is basically a giant volcanic system. The island first appeared about sixteen and a half million years ago directly over a molten plume, roughly sixty miles wide, descending from just below the earth’s relatively thin outer crust at least four hundred miles (about half the length of the California coastline) toward the molten core, possibly to the boundary of the core itself. The combination of shifting plates, volcanic action and the molten plume results in a landscape of basalt formations (black volcanic rock) and geothermal phenomena like geysers, making Iceland a prime location for harnessing geothermal energy. The plates allow ocean water to seep deep into the porous lava mass, and heated groundwater then often rises close to the surface. The volcanic landscape and the treeless plains of porous rock absorb rainwater and glacial melt-off every year, to be similarly heated. The geothermal water is thus a combination of seawater and fresh water.
Using this subterranean heat as energy is a matter of digging a well inside active volcanic craters, drawing the hot fluid to the surface, and capping it with a power plant. There are no storage tanks littering the landscape, and the distribution system is entirely below ground. The only elements visible in the landscape are the well caps. Iceland has developed two ways to turn geothermal energy into electricity:
- Six hundred degree Fahrenheit steam is vented from a mile below ground, the steam spins a turbine that drives a generator, and—voilà!—electricity is produced.
- Eleven hundred degree Fahrenheit water is pulled from wells as deep as two and a half miles to heat surface water that makes the steam to drive turbines. Water normally exists as steam at this temperature, but the immense pressure of the rock above holds the water in a near-liquid state. This water is known as ‘supercritical water,’ and this is the more efficient method.
Iceland’s geothermal resources will exist as long as the earth’s core continues to heat groundwater. While it is difficult to predict, it is not out of the realm of possibility that the entire northern hemisphere could be fueled by Iceland’s geothermal energy, if transport systems were built. Iceland ranks fourteenth in the world for geothermal resources but is the highest per-capita producer of geothermal power. It is predicted that, if the full operating ability of Iceland’s supercritical water technique is developed, the country could become the world’s largest supplier of geothermal energy.
Risks Associated with Geothermal Energy
As one might imagine, harnessing this resource is not without risks, controversy, or environmental impact. The high level of heat and pressure can cause machinery to fail. In 1999, an explosion occurred at a well because of a valve malfunction. An uncontrolled flow of fluid blew the whole rig off, and the explosion left a one hundred foot wide crater in the ground. Further, at these subterranean depths, hydrochloric acid can be present, making the water so caustic that it would dissolve the steel equipment within hours. As long as the fluid shooting up the well remains in a steam state, it cannot form hydrochloric acid, but it is not possible to gauge this until the fluid surfaces. Also, the drill could simply miss the supercritical water, or hit impenetrable magma. Sensory equipment cannot work at these depths.
As global industries discover the value of geothermal energy in Iceland, the natural environment is at ever-greater risk. Currently, there is a drive to attract energy end-users to Iceland to exploit this renewable energy source. Icelanders fear that more power plants will blight the landscape and that exporting is not the answer because it would generate jobs overseas, not at home. Balancing economic means against environmental impact will be a great challenge for a country with a pristine landscape that is only twenty something percent habitable.
During the process of harnessing geothermal energy, natural volcanic gases, including carbon dioxide and hydrogen sulfide, are released. It’s thus not an entirely green resource, and the citizens of Reykjavik have voiced complaints about hydrogen sulfide’s offensive smell. In order to mitigate the contribution to global warming, Iceland is pioneering a new technology to lock away carbon dioxide. The project captures the carbon dioxide and pumps it underground, where the chemical properties of the volcanic basalt react with it, convert it to other minerals, and prevent it from leaking into the air. Ninety percent of Iceland’s subterranean geology is composed of basalt, ten percent of the world’s continental rocks are made of basalt, and the ocean floors are made almost entirely of basalt, so this is a technology with widespread promise. Additionally, Iceland has a program that recycles carbon dioxide into methanol, a chemical that can be used as fuel for transportation, and the carbon dioxide is being used to help grow beneficial micro-algae used in cosmetics, nutritional additives and fish feeding.
From National Resource to Cultural Treasure
Iceland has no national grid, and its geothermal energy is one of the country’s most valuable assets. In addition to providing heat to homes, pools and green houses, it keeps pavement and parking lots snow-free in the winter. Hot spring water is cooled and pumped from boreholes directly to taps, eliminating the need for hot-water heating. It is also cooled and purified and used for cold tap water.
The naturally heated water was used for washing and bathing from the formation of the Allthing in 930 AD, but the earliest use of geothermal energy for space heating came in 1908, shortly after the introduction of expensive, dirty, imported coal. A clever farmer piped water from a geothermal well to his house, then two years later another farmer harnessed steam from a hot spring. These innovations marked a turning point in the country’s relationship with water. Until this time, land with hot springs was considered less valuable, because the hot water was seen as a dangerous, hard-to-control liability. But in a poverty-stricken place with harsh environmental conditions and only basic technology, these new methods of harnessing the earth’s power were life-changing. Similarly, it was becoming clear that, in an economy that relied chiefly on its fishing industry, it was unacceptable that less than one percent of the population could swim. Because of so many water-related deaths in the fishing industry, swimming lessons became mandatory for children at an early age.
During the 1930s, an extensive distribution of hot water was developed in Reykjavik to heat buildings: a primary school, neighboring homes, a hospital, an indoor swimming pool, a museum and greenhouses. The country was still under the rule of Denmark at this time. Urban designers aimed to build a city center in Reykjavik that expressed the spirit of Leifur Ericksson, the Viking explorer who discovered America. There was careful planning for the city. During the ‘40s, while Denmark was occupied by Nazis and neutral Iceland was ‘playing host’ to the Allies, Iceland declared its freedom from Denmark. At this time, the development of geothermal distribution systems grew, and the Allies’ occupation destroyed the plans for Reykjavik. Army barracks were built to house over twenty thousand soldiers. When the occupation ended, the barracks remained and became housing for the Icelandic people. Sadly, these barracks only reminded the locals of their poverty; they did not express the ideals of the 1930s. In the years that followed, Modernism swept in, and a series of community buildings were constructed. The buildings, like many other Modern buildings, ignored the public landscape and did not create the sense of street culture and community that even the decayed barracks had. Initially, swimming pools were intended simply as a place to teach children to swim, but they soon became a place of social pleasure where cleanliness was important as a means to combat the difficult living conditions; and of social instruction, where children were taught to behave courteously. The community swimming pools became the country’s equivalent of the Italian piazza, adding the missing element to the Modernist landscape: a central gathering place. A community was not complete without a pool.
Svartsengi and the Blue Lagoon
Following WWII, with aid from the Marshall Plan, Iceland became a more prosperous nation, and in the 1960s geothermal heating became more prevalent, because the distribution pipes were strengthened by an internal coat of Teflon, a new invention. The oil crisis of the 1970s further supported Iceland’s need to develop systems to tap into its natural resources.
In 1976, one of the country’s largest geothermal power plants opened: the Svartsengi, meaning “black meadow,” power plant began venting superheated water in a lava field roughly fifty miles from Thingvellir. The water at Svartsengi is used to run turbines to generate electricity; after passing through the turbines, the steam and hot water flow through a heat exchanger to heat cold groundwater and provide heat for a municipal water heating system. After leaving the heat exchanger, the water, a combination of seawater and fresh water, still has a high mineral and silica concentration. It cannot be recycled and is instead disposed of by channeling it and allowing it to create pools in the permeable lava field of the surrounding landscape. Five years after the plant opened, Icelandic people began to use the pools as hot soaking pools, as the water was said to have healing properties due to its high silica, sulfur mineral and algae content. The algae found there is in part a product of high temperatures and salinity. Through clinical tests, the algae and minerals were revealed to have anti-aging properties, as if a fountain of youth.
The silicates help turn the water a vivid, milky blue that appears in high contrast to the surrounding black field and spongy moss landscape. In addition to creating the striking color, the silicates began to form solid deposits in the lava field as the water infiltrated the ground, over time making it impenetrable. Consequently, new pools and channels have to be created continuously by the power plant. The careful management of this environmental impact is important. Decantation test ponds are used to evaluate the speed of mineral deposition, a limiting factor for sustainable development. There is only so much land, as more of this water is channeled through the lava field, fresh rainwater water infiltration is decreased.
In 1995, the Blue Lagoon company was established, and a bathing facility was opened for the public, designed by Basalt Architects. Basalt’s stated goal was to protect the environment and respect its geologic history. They saw the lagoon as part of a system where nature and science work in harmony with minimal impact. Elements of the environment are highlighted. A pathway curves though the rocky, moss-covered landscape, connecting the parking area to the facility. There is a sense of mystery as the topography and curving, finely ground lava particle pathway both conceal and reveal the landscape. The place seems a vastly monochromatic and otherworldly expanse of lava with vivid pops of blue and green, and somehow the topography and path alone are enough to guide one toward the building. Steam rises from the bright blue milky water of the channels and the lagoon and filters the northern light. The entry to the building is notched into the rock formations and suggests that the space inside the building was always there. It seems meant-to-be, while at the same time the architecture is clearly designed; paradoxically, it both blends with the landscape and stands apart from it. Inside the building, lava is used on the floor and walls, and the interior of the building, with large glazed walls, opens to the lagoon and allows the northern light to flood the space. Outside, the landscape's minimal palette of materials, textures and colors is heightened by the simple architecture and incorporated into the building's design.
The Blue Lagoon is part of the Svartsengi Resource Park, a concept based on ecological balance, economic prosperity and social progress. Shortly after the main facility opened, a small clinic was created to treat people with skin ailments, and the company created a line of products for skin care. During the next eight years, the company grew, creating larger spa facilities and developing more products.
In 2005, a small clinic hotel designed by Basalt Architects opened at the Blue Lagoon. In 2007, the clinic received an award from the Association of Icelandic Architects. The fifteen-room hotel appears humbly in the landscape. Lava is used to define the parking area and to create pathways that snake through the lava field from the hotel to the main lagoon. Its minimalist design is a celebration of the environment, a relatively luxurious outpost amid severe, stark conditions. The architecture’s pared-down, humble forms appear in harmony with the simple natural elements of the area: the lava, the moss, the sky. The buildings wrap the lava and allow the rock to enter inside the structures. The same is true for the water pools. As water meets glass that holds light from both sides of the panes, inside and out merge. The geothermal plant is visible from the hotel, too. The design and site create the opportunity for guests to commune with the natural environment, to reflect on the forces at play, and perhaps to understand more deeply an integral connection to these forces.
Economic Collapse and Recovery
In 2008, like so many places, the entire country of Iceland became a victim of Wall Street’s corruption and greed. The country’s financial system collapsed, and the country needed to redefine itself. Icelandic people looked back at their heritage, at their land, their craft, and their natural resources to move forward, and one of the main targeted industries for new economic growth has become the travel and tourism industry. The country is beginning to recover, and tourism is a large part of the reason, with over 10% of the workforce engaged in tourism-related businesses, contributing over 5% to the Icelandic GDP in 2015. At the same time, Iceland is betting heavily on green energy, and the country’s combination of desperation and thirty years of technical expertise might make geothermal energy a practical alternative worldwide. Currently, Iceland is not worried about the potential risks of exploiting its natural resources likely because of the country’s recent rocky times and the country’s historically daring, pioneering spirit.
The Blue Lagoon is a model study for the use of spa design incorporated with nature in order to boost the economy of an area that has suffered a disaster. Further, the company emerges from the social history of the country, a sense of place, a seamless relationship between technology and nature, and the country’s hopes for the future, all wrapped with a tight bow thanks in part to the simple yet exquisite design work of the architects at Basalt.
Photos copyright 2015 Lee Friedman and Jennifer Bloch