Iceland calls to many people in many different ways. Svartifoss called me.
It changed my life.
May it change yours.
I know the raven does.
Don’t expect your tour operator to tell you about this. It’s not a human thing, and it’s their job to be a good host and look after your bodily comforts. Bodily discomforts, well, that’s for you to find out on your own.
The sense of the ancient word “fall” is preserved in English today in the expression “falling away,” and the word “fell,” denoting a primitive evil. It denotes the state of entering what is not there, of suddenly having no earth holding you up, which the planet does, kindly enough.
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.