A Different Side of Iceland
Most visitors to Iceland stick to the well-trodden Golden Circle route near Reykjavík, where around 63 per cent of the country's population lives. The north remains comparatively empty, with longer distances between settlements and harsher winters. Yet it is precisely this remoteness that has shaped one of Iceland's most distinctive social traditions: the public swimming pool.
Akureyri, the largest town outside the capital region with roughly 20,000 residents, sits at the end of Eyjafjörður, Iceland's longest fjord. A 45-minute flight from Reykjavík, the town serves as a natural base for exploring the north. Its sheltered valley location produces milder winter weather than many expect, and its compact centre is walkable, with a two-block main street lined with hotels, restaurants, and timber homes dating to the 1700s.
The town's ice cream shop draws weekend queues even in midwinter, but the real social hub lies elsewhere: in the water.
Where the Town Gathers
In December 2025, UNESCO added Icelandic swimming pool culture to its list of intangible cultural heritage, recognising a practice that has shaped daily life since Norse settlers arrived in the 800s. While the Blue Lagoon near Reykjavík draws most international attention, the north's geothermal pools function less as attractions and more as community infrastructure.
Every visit follows the same protocol: a thorough, naked wash in communal showers before entering the pools. The rule exists for hygiene, not modesty, and locals of all ages scrub methodically, often propping one leg on a stool to reach every corner. Swimsuits return for the mixed-gender pools, though remote springs sometimes remain clothing-optional.
The tourist-oriented lagoons offer their own appeal. Forest Lagoon, across the fjord from Akureyri, features wide pools surrounded by snow-covered evergreens, floor-to-ceiling sauna windows, and a swim-up bar. GeoSea, an hour north, overlooks Skjálfandi Bay through infinity pools of varying temperatures; humpback and minke whales surface in the bay during summer months.
But the town's public pool reveals something the commercial lagoons cannot. On a typical evening, families arrive for a quick soak before bedtime, teenagers cluster in corners, and parents chat while keeping an eye on children. Four waterslides stand beside the main pool; even in falling snow, local children debate which colour offers the best ride.
According to Business Iceland, the country's tourism promotion agency, this scene plays out across the nation. "Iceland's public swimming pools play an important role in fostering a sense of equality, informal connection, and social cohesion, bringing together people of all ages and backgrounds in a shared space," a spokesperson noted.
Geothermal Heat Beyond Bathing
The same volcanic activity that fills Iceland's pools also shapes its food. At Vogafjós Farm Resort near Lake Mývatn, rye bread bakes underground for roughly 24 hours, slow-cooked by geothermal heat. The process produces an unusually dense, slightly sweet loaf that has become a regional staple.
This reliance on geothermal energy stretches back centuries. Early Norse settlers faced brutal conditions; little grows in Iceland's cold ground, and the food that endured reflects that scarcity: salted cod, fermented shark, limited wild plants beyond berries. The hot springs offered one reliable comfort, and bathing became woven into survival.
Today, that history persists in quieter ways. Áskaffi, a café housed in a Skagafjörður community hall that also hosts weddings and concerts, serves chocolate mousse and rhubarb cake made from the owner's grandmother's recipe. The same room that feeds visitors on weekday afternoons transforms into a wedding venue or concert hall on weekends.
The North Between Soaks
Akureyri's location makes it practical for day trips across the region. Lake Mývatn, a volcanic lake surrounded by lava formations, offers snowmobiling in winter. Goðafoss, the "waterfall of the gods," partially freezes in the coldest months, creating layered ice formations alongside the rushing water. Skagafjörður, known for horse breeding, offers rides on Icelandic horses, a breed unchanged since Viking times, recognisable by their thick winter coats and windswept manes.
The landscape remains dramatic but less accessible than the south. Roads stretch longer between towns, and winter weather can close routes without warning. Yet this emptiness also means fewer coach buses, smaller crowds at waterfalls, and pools where locals outnumber tourists.
What the Pools Reveal
The contrast between commercial lagoons and public pools highlights a broader tension in Icelandic tourism. The Blue Lagoon and its northern equivalents offer polished experiences: swim-up bars, designed sightlines, curated temperatures. They deliver what many visitors expect from Iceland.
The town pools operate differently. They are less photogenic, more functional, and entirely embedded in daily routines. Parents bring children after school. Teenagers meet friends. Older residents soak sore joints after work. The pools are not designed for visitors, though visitors are welcome.
This distinction matters because it shapes how bathing culture is understood. Treating geothermal pools solely as tourist infrastructure misses their role in Icelandic social life. The UNESCO designation recognises this: the cultural value lies not in the water itself but in the rituals and relationships built around it.
For travellers willing to venture north, the reward is not simply fewer crowds or better views, though both exist. It is the chance to see a tradition still functioning as it was intended, rather than as a performance for outsiders.
Practical Considerations
North Iceland's winter season runs roughly from November through March, when northern lights are most visible and snow covers the highlands. Temperatures in Akureyri typically hover between -5°C and 5°C, milder than inland areas but still requiring layered clothing and waterproof outerwear.
Most geothermal pools charge modest entry fees, usually under 1,000 Icelandic króna (roughly 7 USD) for public facilities, while private lagoons cost significantly more. Towel and swimsuit rentals are available at larger sites, though locals bring their own.
The northern lights remain visible from September through April, with peak activity between November and February. Sightings depend on solar activity, cloud cover, and darkness; apps and local guides track conditions in real time.
Akureyri's domestic airport connects to Reykjavík multiple times daily, with flights taking about 45 minutes. Driving from the capital takes roughly five hours in good weather, though winter storms can extend travel time or close roads entirely. Car hire is available at both airports, and many visitors combine driving with internal flights to maximise time.
Beyond the Golden Circle
Iceland's southern route will always attract the majority of visitors. It is accessible, well-signposted, and packed with dramatic scenery within a manageable day trip from Reykjavík. For many, it is enough.
But the north offers something the Golden Circle cannot: a glimpse of how Icelanders actually live, rather than how tourism boards present them. The public pools, with their naked showers and local families and children queuing for waterslides in the snow, are not designed to be charming. They simply are.
That authenticity, more than any lagoon or waterfall, is what lingers. The warmth of the water, certainly, but also the ease of strangers sharing space, the unspoken etiquette of the communal shower, the quiet satisfaction of a soak after a cold day. These are not unique to the north, but they are easier to find there, away from the crowds that gather further south.
For travellers who have already ticked Iceland off their lists, the north offers a reason to return. Not because it is untouched or undiscovered, but because it is lived in, by people who have spent centuries making the cold bearable, one hot spring at a time.
