The fields stare back.
This early april view of trolls Goðafoss is for all of you who are caught in the heat of the south. Time to plan that next spring trip, for sure.
Gunnar Gunnarsson published “The Shore of Life” in 1916, as a protest against the First World war. He had in mind the ring of surf around the Island, through which all life had to pass. All goods coming in and all goods going out, he argued, passed through the hands of Danish traders, or through the vicious surf, which easily turned life into death. He offered an unusual role as writer, but fitting to the Battle of the Somme: sniper. One by one he made us love his characters, then killed them off. It is an amazing and enraging book, as he intended. The metaphor is by no means dead. Note the red surf here facing down the aluminum city of Reyðarfjörður.
Gunnar’s world is far from past.
It is now easy to forget that Iceland is many different countries united by isolation. Sometimes the way forward is the way back.
If isolation can be connection, can connection be isolation?
When a country becomes a road…
… what then?
When I first saw Svartifoss, a waterfall in Skaftafell National Park, I fell in love. When I approached it in late fall four years later, I fell in love again. It was darker now, and somehow even more glorious.
What’s not to love! Just to the left of the fall, the earth reveals the fall’s real story, though:
Even me. Even you. That is powerful earth magic for sure.