Way up the fjord. Nothing happening? Not true. You are! Stop the car. Get out. Wait.
Ah, here they come.
Like I said.
Never alone. Ever.
Even in the snow!
Sure, you can lose important stuff in the snow, because you have to negotiate snacks, camera, wallet, hat, gloves, snow, and slippery paths. Here I am after running across the bridge looking for likely nice people and finding them. Look how she takes charge. He should keep her close, I think. (It was my wife who found the wallet and sent me on my sprint across the icy bridge with no people in sight.)
Note how I keep my stuff in a little daypack now. Can you tell it’s a been-there-done-that situation?
Just another day in Iceland! I hope they’re doing well. Meanwhile, back to the light. What there is of it!
Watch your step! (And do get a daypack. Really.)
When you turn off onto Road 5001 at the head of the Havalfjörður to visit the high waterfall Glymur, make note of the gravel parking area to your left. When you come back soggy and disappointed that Glymur is unattainable because of bad weather and high water and muck, why not stop and hike a hundred metres up the stream to Paradisarfoss? She’s a pretty little one, with a fine little forest of wild birches. You need never be disappointed in Iceland.
By Icelandic standards, that’s a very good trail there.
Well worth the trip! And no, this was not sunset. And, yes, the sky was that pink. It was just November 5, that’s all, when a stroll through the rain is like a walk through laughter.
There is a special hour on Þingvallavatn. Right after darkness, it is light. Then the light extinguishes and the world begins without illusion: blue.
The soul rises early. Everything that follows is just light.
A trained eye will see trolls In Iceland by looking past the rock. A world of appearances is a world of doors. The country is a folktale. That is not a metaphor.
And farther to the east. Here you can clearly see the bones from a previous troll meal, that have been tossed below them. Folklore holds that when the sun comes up, trolls are turned into stone. No, that’s not it. They are still there, behind the appearances, which is to say, in the darkness, behind the light.
And yes, trolls keep troll sheep, such as the one below at Dimmuborgir.
Are these really “trolls” and “troll sheep”? Well, are the meanings of these words really “things”? We live in a world of appearances, and use language to navigate between them, but the appearances are separate from the language.
Truth is, volcanic rock breaks in patterns that matches the patterning of the human mind. This is our environment. The alternative would be to call the appearances an error, which is just too tidy and elitist.
That is a betrayal of the appearances. It makes the world safe. It isn’t.
If not honoured, trolls prey on us.