A New Zealand Prayer Book / He Karakia Mihinare o Aotearoa

The version of A New Zealand Prayer Book / He Karakia Mihinare o Aotearoa available on this website is the only ‘officially permitted’ online version and is the most up-to-date version available, incorporating all of the authorised alterations.

The Blue Lagoon Here

There is a profound irony: Climate change and glacial melt threaten Iceland’s other wonders (the glaciers of Vatnajökull are receding), but the Blue Lagoon is thriving. It consumes 1,000 liters of water per second, drawing from aquifers that are replenished by rainfall and glacial melt. Some environmentalists worry that the expanding spa industry is diverting geothermal water that could heat homes or generate electricity.

In the center is the , a floating wooden hut where attendants scoop buckets of white geothermal mud from a vat. Guests smear it on their faces, looking like tribal warriors from a sci-fi film. To the west is the Steam Cave —a man-made grotto carved into a lava fissure, where dry, mineral-rich steam blasts from the rock, opening sinuses and pores. The Blue Lagoon

The Blue Lagoon closed repeatedly between 2023 and 2024. For weeks, the area was a military-style exclusion zone. Workers built massive defensive berms—walls of compacted rock—to divert potential lava flows away from the power plant and the spa. Remarkably, the facility survived. When the eruption subsided, the lagoon reopened, but the access road now winds past steaming, freshly congealed lava that flowed across the parking lot just months prior. There is a profound irony: Climate change and

By the 1980s, locals noticed something peculiar. People with skin conditions like psoriasis who bathed in the runoff found their symptoms drastically reduced. In 1987, the first makeshift changing rooms were built, and the Blue Lagoon was officially born. It took a decade of legal battles and environmental assessments, but by 1999, a formal spa facility opened. The power plant is still running; you can see its steam stacks rising behind the lagoon’s changing rooms. The Blue Lagoon is not a thermal spring in the traditional sense (like the geysers of Haukadalur). It is a engineered ecosystem. The water is a unique cocktail: 70% seawater and 30% freshwater, heated by the plant to a comfortable 37–40°C (98–104°F) year-round. In the center is the , a floating

The contrast is immediate. The air might be -5°C (23°F) with Arctic wind, but the water is a warm embrace. Steam rises in thick curtains, obscuring the distant view of the Eldvörp crater row. The floor is uneven sand and lava rock; you must wear aqua shoes or tread carefully.

Grindavík, Iceland – In the stark, moss-covered lava fields of the Reykjanes Peninsula, a milky azure pool steams against a charcoal landscape. To the casual observer, the Blue Lagoon ( Bláa lónið ) looks like a natural wonder—a sacred hot spring born of volcanic fury. In reality, it is one of the most successful accidental byproducts of industrial engineering in history.

There is also a swim-up bar serving smoothies and sparkling wine (alcohol is allowed, but Icelanders consider heavy drinking in hot water dangerous due to rapid dehydration and vasodilation). Hidden from the casual selfie-taker is the Blue Lagoon’s most serious function: the Psoriasis Treatment Center . This is a separate, clinical wing of the facility recognized by the Icelandic health authorities as a legitimate medical treatment center.