I am a subterranean chamber that swallows cold rain and spits boiling fury, tearing through the skin of the earth. Unlike a volcano that bleeds liquid fire, I only erupt with superheated water and blinding steam. Some of my kind scream every few minutes, while others sleep for centuries. What am I?

I have a deep, narrow path between high stone walls. I get incredibly wet whenever a traveler visits. A giant can make me echo with joy.

If these giant sheets of ice crack and then melt that could be bad for rising sea levels. They're not, however, to blame for the sinking of the Titanic in 1912. They can look blue rather than white, and have quite intricate structures inside.

I am always waved at. Sailors avoid me, tourists visit me. When the weather is bad, that’s when I am at my best.

In the night, a steadfast light, guiding ships far from plight. Like a lantern on a wintry night, it stands firm, clear, and bright.