Vestrahorn
Four days east along the south coast, chasing a mountain that kept hiding — and one clear night.
Skógafoss
Sixty metres of water coming down into its own weather. Ice underfoot, spray freezing on the lens, and a rainbow that stayed exactly where it was for as long as the sun did.
The horse
Stopped for the light, stayed for the horse, which took no notice of either. They came over on the settlers' ships, and no horse has been brought onto the island since — this one had the sunset to itself.
Jökulsárlón
Icebergs the size of houses drifting out to sea, then washed back onto the black beach as glass. Late afternoon, flat grey light, and the waves doing the polishing.
Vestrahorn
Just after midnight the sky cleared, the tide slid in over the sand, and a faint green band of aurora rose behind the peaks. Still water, a mirror, ten minutes.
The morning after
Bad coffee at the Viking Café, then back onto the beach the next morning, and the mountain finally out in the open: low sun on the peaks, and the night's tide frozen hard into the black sand.
For scale
Same place, a few minutes later, with me on the ice for scale. The mountain is bigger than any photograph makes it.
