Turf house, new house, church, old house ruins, old house tun, old farm church ruins, trolls on the hill, first generation national trees, new subsidized tree planting, government subsidized drained and fertilized field, flagpole, power line between Akureyri and Skagafjörður, and rhubarb blooming.
The whole kit and kaboodle!
Some trolls are always in social isolation.
Sléttuvegur (Road 870) in the High Season
While tourists are gazing in wonder at puffins…
…Icelanders are gazing in wonder at trees.
Bifröst: where Icelanders go to get away.
Because the light is so low in the winter, it is quite directional. When combined with light snow, it focusses the Earth most brilliantly.
A half hour north of Reykjavik, and you are already on a boat among the stars.
Tourism is an industry. Here are some industrial views of Kirkjufoss, the most-photographed mountain in Iceland.
Tour busses race past Kolgrafafjörður …
Why would you rush past such a dawn?
… to get you to it. If you go on December 24 (not in a tour bus. It will drive past), Kirkjufell might look like this at sundown:
Mind you, if you turn around, you might see other miracles:
Few do. There is no time. The 8 p.m. Aurora bus is waiting in Reykjavik, and it’s many hours and a world away. Besides, industrial images are soooooo seductive:
I don’t think this is quite how people in Grundarfjörður experience the mountain. This is certainly one way, though:
The Eastern Burbs
And this is another.
The forest walk from the campground in November.
Iceland is real.
The November view from town.
It takes time for a mountain to speak. You can’t force it.
Egil’s saga was set in Borg, one of the first points of settlement in Iceland 1100 years ago. Here is the view from Borg in November light these days, looking south towards Borgarnes (Borg’s Cape).
This is 1100 years of history in one glimpse.
Gunnar said there were ships in the sky, meaning clouds, but if you go to Iceland in the winter, you will find whole mountain ranges in the sky, that appear and disappear, created by the mountains out of the wind off the Atlantic.
They’re not exactly shadows and not exactly mirrors. They are amazingly alive. I suspect that the medium (the wind) does that. The image above is near Arnarstapi, on Snæfellsnes. The glacier is just around the corner: one of these clouds that stayed.
West of Grundarfjörður, the white of the world is carried low by the water.
East of town, the mountains don’t give of their world so lightly.
It’s as if the world is turned upside down. Only the water, I guess is right side up!