Driving around Iceland with toddlers makes you duty bound to answer almost any questions they care to pose to you in the car with a degree of thoughtfulness you might not muster at home. After a mercifully short journey coming up with answers to site specific questions (what people could dive to the midnight zone, do sperm whales like eating purple squids, and how many cars can a rescue helicopter rescue from the sea, simultaneously) we arrived at Drangnes in a howling gale.
These pools and this location is the Iceland I came to visit: three tubs – 2 in varying degrees of hotness, the other cool – are built along the breakwater on the foreshore of the main road, on a wooden deck. There are changing rooms on the other side of the road in a permanent portacabin (as I remember it) with a place to shower, which is Icelandic law before hot tubbing. The changing rooms are heated and also have a good door, which was a relief in the wind and cold. We ouched our way across the gravel flanking the road and plunged in.
Perfect hot tubbing location – free, with a few ships in the harbour, huge boulders in the foreshore, and that vast Icelandic view of fjord and sky. Comfort in a wild and unforgiving place. The wind sliced through our wet skin crossing the road back to our clothes.