This image is from the heath above Dettifoss.
It’s a hard one, but is it better to drive up to Dettifoss and get close to a wall of water, or park five kilometres away and walk along to goroge until you’re ready to see the falls from a new perspective?
Dunno, but when I got this far, I didn’t want to go further, and turned around, to the forest. It was hiding behind a rock and taking on human form.
It was a message. Iceland is full of messages like that.
Water that enters a fall zone and flows down through air to the centre of the Earth, before being stopped by stone, first attempts to find its original level by climbing back, before the Earth draws it away. Have a look.
People come from around the world to experience this power. What at first appears to make one small and insignificant actually makes one large because as humans we live in what we see. We are the waterfall. Keeping a little distance is safe, though.
They will find each other, but will be powerless. Iceland is currently financing itself on this illusion, based on a thousand-year-old tradition of hospitality. The land’s hospitality reveals itself when you turn away and walk for, oh, ten minutes into the earth.
There are also ancient traditions of Icelanders reading this mixed landscape of water, volcanoes and wind. Keeping the tradition alive has never been so important or, under the business, so difficult.