Sure, you can sneak up on a waterfall, but it can also sneak up on you.
Hey, it’s just as much fun as picking up cigarette butts in Reykjavik, eh.
Or fooling yourself into thinking you are sneaking up on a troll.
Or lying in wait for the sun, trying to look like a block of ice. Loads of fun, that.
And just try to sneak up on an Icelandic horse.
All together now!
Iceland was settled by people of the North Atlantic. If you got there early, you got one of the choicest spots. Here on the Skagaströnd in the far north, that is abundantly clear.
Even the sheep, grazing at the foot of an old elf fortress, know as much.
And a good place for landing the longboat, too.
The ogre family treasure.
Family is important.
An old turf-roofed sheep barn is, to them, still a turf-roofed sheep barn.
If that sounds like an extraordinary sense of memory, think of this: people keep it around, too.
Wherever you go in Iceland, someone has lived there before.
Skaftafell National Park
Well, except for the Highlands.
Iceland has pioneered the control of Jökulhlaups, catastrophic glacial outflow rivers, in Skaftafell National Park, by being familiar with the land enough to copy its models.
In addition to the deflective butts of rock redirecting Bæjargil as it streams down from Svartifoss, the Black Falls, there’s a troll in the stream bed. There usually is. That’s the spirit of the rock, just as the water-deflecting dikes are in the distance. What? Did someone tell you that trolls are mythological? No, they are us.
So, you have a bunch of troll bones in a stream at Skeljanes. Weird troll writing on it. How are you going to blend in with that so you look like you own the place?
This next one is trying to blend in with the sea at the same time. All those waves, eh.
That’s how it’s done. And if someone says your head is as hard as a rock, ha, that would be, like, a double compliment!