The puffins at Rauðanes…
…are well-guarded. Note the troll, whose hair they live in, and his peek-a-boo stone seal.
Plus, a whole guard team on shore. Here’s one at work.
All this help allows puffins to build a pretty lovely set of penthouses in peace.
Just respect the management’s rules, that’s all, and yield at trail intersections!
That Finnish smiths chained a dragon to the bottom of the lake in olden times, is well known.
That it gets out and flies through the air above the water from time to time is something rarely talked about. But it did last July 1. Here it is.
Here on the trail along the Selfljót, this rock stopped me in my tracks. Is it not an old story from the sagas or some old folk tale?
A bearded man (or elf? or dwarf?) on the left, and a fox on the right? There are a lot of rocks along the trail, but this one was unique.
Salt water and fresh, in their own movements, catch the light quite differently.
Seals swim from one to the other effortlessly. What a great seeing that is!
A cute lamb on Raudanes above Kollavik in the Þistilfjörður would appear far less cute if not for the warm colours of the July light just after mid-day, looking East.
It is so thick in the air, it’s as if you could scoop it up with your hands, or swim through it!
A simple farm in the East, far from everything?
No, at the centre. This was the heart of some of Icelands greatest modern poems. Reykjavik is the wasteland here. What caught my eye was the oddness of this sewing machine and this bone, honoured on this picnic table.
What held me was this poem by Krystján Einarsson. Just say it out loud. The sound is enough.
Know that when you drive away, you are leaving the heart for the hands, and you’ll have to come back.
Trolls, whose eggs are green (just look!) do it like this:
Gulls, whose eggs are also green, by gosh, do it like this:
This greening of the land is a thing to be admired. I’m all for more of it.
A New, Partially-Formed Iceland Egg Greening Up Nicely in the East Fjords
The surface is not Iceland.
It’s just weather.
Sure, the sunset looking north to Djúpivogur at midnight, mid-July, as the perennial day of solstice starts to fade, are most splendid…
… but the real story here is the black land. It’s what gives the sky its light. It is here that you see it for the first time.
The Eggin í Gleðivik are one of Iceland’s national treasures. They represent the eggs of the main birds of Iceland, carved by Sigurður Guðmundsson, and set up permanently in the Djúpivogur Harbour.
Well, sure, you can show an image of them looking out to sea, all pristine and romantic like, but Iceland is neither pristine nor romantic. It is real, and it has rust.
Best to keep that in mind. Beautiful, isn’t it!
(You can read more about the eggs, and view an image without the oil tanks, here.)