Some mountains are so powerful, their names are primal forces from a land of giants.
Urðahlið: The Broken Mountain, or even The Broken Gate.
Borgarfjördur in Arnarfjörður
It is good that we are small. It is good to know.
Everything catches your eye. The world is not what we expect but what we answer when it calls to us. The two gestures are the same. Preparation is all, even if you don’t know the preparation you have done. When I first travelled to Iceland, we were given an itinerary and sent on our way, and, being curious and easily wowed, kept stopping the car and being late for dinner.
Now I understand that if we hadn’t wanted to be caught, and if we hadn’t been ready to be caught, we would have driven on, and made dinner. Because we stopped, I saw into the heart of the world, and have written two books and am deep into two other manuscripts. And still that lamb dinner calls!
Going to Iceland. I don’t blame you. It’s beautiful. Gulfoss. The Golden Falls. With its eternal rainbow. What’s not to love?

Well, this, maybe. Hey, but everybody’s as much in love with it as you are. You’re in good company. That’s nice.

That’s not so bad at all, is it. But this?

That’s OK, too. I mean, everyone is safe this way, and that’s good, plus things erode. We don’t want things to erode. Thing is, well… IF … you … turn … around … there … is … this.

Will you go there? Likely not. There are, after all the beautiful falls. Very beautiful. There’s a path.

And you can always go wait for the Geysir up the road. That’s fun. It really is. It’s even more fun to watch the watchers.
Still… IF you turn around (and miss the Geysir) …
Will you go there? The Icelanders hope you won’t. They want you at the Geysir. Ahh, that’s better.
Let’s face it. That’s worth putting your back to the mountains. Or is it?
It’s a tricky dance, to be a traveller in Iceland.