Inside an Icelandic Volcano

This summer, I traveled with my family to the country of Iceland, which is known for its incredible natural beauty. In the week I was there, I saw grand waterfalls, tall, green forests, and a sun that never truly set. But the most impressive sight I witnessed was found 400 feet underground, lit by artificial light, and carved out by lava thousands of years ago. I went inside of a volcano. The experience was nearly indescribable, but here I am, trying my best to do so. 

Þríhnúkagígur is a dormant volcano near Iceland’s capital city of Reykjavik. Þríhnúkagígur’s magma is thought to have mysteriously drained away, making it the only place in the world where visitors can enter a magma chamber. 

I want to say that when I first heard about the idea of going inside a volcano, my first thought was “well, that seems terrifying.” I am not a risk-taker whatsoever. I hate roller coasters, haunted houses, and even flying in airplanes. Getting inside a modified window-cleaning platform and going under the earth’s surface was a huge step outside of my comfort zone. But after watching videos that showed the full trip and seeing the volcano explored by other people, I became interested. I wanted to see those beautifully vivid colors in person. My dad badgering me (lovingly) also helped. He is also not a fan of heights and reassured me that we would be there for each other on the way down. So, I agreed to go inside the volcano. 

My family drove in our rental car to the lodge from where we would go to Þríhnúkagígur. When we got there, we were given a rundown of how the journey would go by our tour guides. They also promised lamb and vegetable soup after, which was appealing considering that it was about 50 degrees in Iceland. We were given headlamps, helmets, and harnesses, and then began the walk to base camp. 

However, on the way, I started having second thoughts. My tour group followed our tour guides across two miles of lava field. The hike was brutal. The wind was blowing hard that day, frigid air battering my face and making the hike drag on for what seemed like hours. That alone made me want to turn back, but there was another factor soon at play: the height. Eventually, the walk across flat terrain developed an incline, and the wind became even harsher. Looking down at the ground reminded me that soon, I would be on an open-air elevator traveling under the ground that was already far below me. It was nerve-wracking. 

When we got to the top of the mountain, we had a few moments to catch our breath and drink some water before we went into the belly of the beast. Me, my family, and a couple other groups walked over to the opening of the volcano, and I determinedly did not look down as I walked across the metal grate bridge to the elevator. With my harness strapped to the side of the elevator, the descent into Þríhnúkagígur began. 

As we went deeper into the throat of the volcano, it became colder, but I noticed the rocks around us becoming more colorful. I barely even noticed the temperature difference, too entranced by what I saw. When our elevator reached the bottom of the volcano, the sights were even more remarkable. 

My family went exploring around the chamber, taking care to stay on the dimly lit, safe paths, but I kept stumbling on loose rocks and almost losing my balance. Instead, I chose to sit on a damp rock and stare at the tall, textured walls of Þríhnúkagígur. The colors lining the walls — oranges and yellows, blues and purples — were beautiful and blended in a way I had never seen before. The artificial lights threw the colors into sharp relief and created a strangely eerie feeling. If I craned my neck up far enough, I could see a small sliver of sunlight from the mouth of the volcano.  

There was one blueish-purple crater on a wall that stood out sharply in a sea of yellow stone. Our guide said the staff joked that a dragon lived in that shallow cavern. In the yellow light, the cold, and the eerie silence, I understood how the joke began. I felt like I had stepped into another world, one that I wasn’t supposed to be seeing. It didn’t feel too far-fetched to feel that way; after all, volcanoes are usually too dangerous to enter. It felt like I was walking inside the mouth of a de-fanged tiger. 

I spent the rest of my time in the volcano taking pictures and writing poetry about my observations. I almost didn’t want to leave, but by that time, my gloves could barely keep my hands warm, and I really wanted some soup. So reluctantly, I got back on the metal elevator and rose back up to the surface. But I knew I would never forget what I had seen inside Þríhnúkagígur. I was so glad I faced my fear and took the plunge. If I hadn’t, I know I would regret it for the rest of my life. The memory of going inside a volcano will always remind me that it’s important to do things that intimidate you, because it will lead to fantastic experiences and stories. 

• #travel
• Iceland
• volcano