The Golden Circle

The Golden Circle is a loop of three hundred kilometres from Reykjavík that shows, in a single day, why Iceland exists: at Þingvellir the ground opens in a rift between the American and Eurasian plates, walkable and widening, where the Vikings held the first parliament in 930; at Geysir the hot spring that gave every geyser its name sleeps beside Strokkur, which throws twenty metres of boiling water into the air every eight minutes without fail; and at Gullfoss the Hvítá river drops in two steps into a canyon, raising a spray that hangs a rainbow over the whole valley at noon. Between them lie a crater lake, greenhouses growing tomatoes on volcanic heat, and horses at every fence.

The traveller drives the loop clockwise to reach Þingvellir before the buses, walks the rift and stands with a foot in each continent; watches Strokkur three times, because the second time is when the camera is ready; walks both viewpoints of Gullfoss and gets wet at the lower one; detours to Kerið's red crater and its green lake; eats tomato soup in the Friðheimar greenhouse; and ends in hot water — the Secret Lagoon at Flúðir, the oldest pool in the country, where the steam and the sky do the rest.

The Guide's honesty: the Circle is the country's most visited road and the sights are shared, so early or late is the whole strategy; the weather rewrites plans by the hour and the road website is the oracle, especially from October to April, when a rented car needs winter tyres and a driver needs humility; Iceland's prices are Iceland's prices — the petrol-station hot dog is the honest lunch —; the geyser's water is boiling and the ropes are not suggestions; and a second day, with the hot springs and the highlands' edge, turns a tour into a memory.