There’s something quietly satisfying about tracking the growth of renewable energy, especially in places where the geography itself seems to demand innovation. Iceland, with its restless tectonic seams and plumes of steam rising across the landscape, offers a unique case for those interested in geothermal energy. If you want to quantify the sector’s development in a specific year, such as 2010, you start with what’s available—the International Standard Industrial Classification, ISIC. For power generation, that’s code 3510.
ISIC 3510 encompasses “Electric power generation, transmission and distribution.” It’s a broad category, and—no surprise—it doesn’t distinguish between hydropower, fossil fuels, wind, or geothermal. The classification serves its purpose, but for the analyst aiming to pinpoint geothermal firms, it’s an exercise in refinement rather than a quick tally.
The first step is to extract the full roster of Icelandic companies registered under ISIC 3510 as of 2010. Fortunately, Iceland’s energy sector isn’t sprawling; the number of firms is manageable. Still, the challenge is to separate geothermal operations from the others. For that, it’s necessary to look beyond the codes—into company names, project documentation, public filings, and sometimes, local news archives. In most cases, the geothermal plants announce themselves through branding or published reports, but a few are less conspicuous, perhaps subsidiaries or joint ventures with mixed portfolios.
Once the geothermal cohort is isolated, the real analysis begins. This is where overlaying thermal resource data with company output becomes essential. It sounds straightforward, but the process can be deceptively complex. Iceland’s national energy authority and geological surveys offer thermal maps indicating high-potential areas—think of the Reykjanes Peninsula or the north near Lake Mývatn. These datasets don’t always line up perfectly with administrative boundaries or company land holdings, so a certain amount of interpretation is required.
The next step is to link each identified geothermal firm to its plant locations. This can involve cross-referencing registry entries with project-level data, such as capacity reports, published production figures, and occasionally, environmental permits. Not all firms publish data at the same level of detail, so there are inevitable gaps. For instance, a company might list its “active projects” on a website, but without annual output figures or clear coordinates. In these cases, it’s sometimes necessary to contact the firm directly or rely on academic studies that have mapped geothermal fields more precisely.
Overlaying the company data with thermal resource maps provides a multidimensional view. Not only can you see which firms are harnessing the richest geothermal reservoirs, but you can begin to compare reported output to theoretical resource potential. In theory, one would hope for close alignment between the two, but in practice, technical constraints, regulatory limits, and even market conditions can lead to surprising disparities. Some plants operate well below capacity, sometimes as a matter of strategy, or due to maintenance cycles, or even as a hedge against future price changes.
Company output metrics—megawatt-hours produced, installed capacity, utilization rates—should be collected where possible. For Iceland, such data is sometimes centralized by national authorities, but it’s not always published at the granular level an analyst might wish. There’s often a patchwork feel: some numbers are up-to-date, others lag by a year or more. Again, working with imperfect data becomes part of the job.
What about the physical overlay itself? A basic geographic information system (GIS) can do most of the heavy lifting. Plot plant locations on a thermal map; color-code by ownership or output. Patterns emerge. One might notice clusters where multiple firms compete for the same resource zone, or isolated plants that seem to defy logistical logic—often explained by unique geological features or local energy demand.
The more you look, the clearer it becomes that ISIC 3510 is a starting point, not a finish line. It opens the door, but real analysis requires pulling in disparate sources, cleaning and reconciling records, and, sometimes, making educated guesses where official documentation runs dry. For a small country like Iceland, the effort pays off. The geothermal sector is tightly linked to national identity and economic policy, so understanding who is producing what, and where, is more than a statistical exercise—it’s a lens into how a country stewards its natural advantages.
One takeaway from this process is the value of integrating classification codes with resource and performance data. It’s not enough to know which firms exist; context—geological, operational, economic—matters. For policymakers, having a robust mapping of geothermal activity informs everything from permitting and regulation to future investment planning.
Mapping geothermal power plants in Iceland using ISIC 3510 isn’t about producing a single, definitive number. It’s about layering information, embracing nuance, and being comfortable with a degree of uncertainty. The outcome isn’t a perfect snapshot, but rather a well-informed map, richer for its complexity and more useful for it, too.