In the middle of Iceland’s Central Highlands, where the terrain resembles a windswept alien world, lies a place that defies its harsh setting: Hveravellir, a remote geothermal oasis where raw wilderness and serene beauty collide. Nestled between the Langjökull and Hofsjökull glaciers, it has served for centuries as a refuge, boundary, and sanctuary.
Hveravellir, meaning “hot spring plains,” only hints at what truly lies here. Amid fields of black lava, volcanic dust, and biting winds, steam vents, boiling mud pools, and bright turquoise springs erupt from the ground as if the Earth itself were exhaling in slow, steady breaths. This landscape, seemingly hostile, radiates a warmth that both soothes the body and stirs the soul.
Historically, Hveravellir was a haven for travelers, shepherds—and outlaws. The most famous of these was Fjalla-Eyvindur, an 18th-century fugitive who lived for years in these extreme conditions. His stone shelter still remains, a quiet reminder of how even the harshest places can offer refuge.
Today, reaching Hveravellir means venturing across long, rough gravel roads, often only navigable in summer with a 4×4. But for those who make the journey, the reward is extraordinary. Bathing in its natural hot springs, surrounded by nothing but steam, wind, and distant mountains, is a moment of geological communion, a raw and unforgettable encounter with the Earth.
Unlike Iceland’s more polished southern spas, Hveravellir offers no frills—no changing rooms, no crowds, no curated experience. What you find here is elemental: geothermal heat, endless sky, and silence. It is a place for those who crave what is wild, real, and untouched.
Few travelers venture this deep into the Highlands. Perhaps that’s why Hveravellir still retains its ancient magic, a blend of ruggedness and wonder that exists nowhere else on Earth.
