This house, hiding behind its collapsed turf buildings near Buðir talks of a country where a landscape view from your picture window is just not really very important.
Whats more, its an old harbour 2 kilometres from a lagoon and 2.5 from open salt water at the Buðakirkja. If you have been at Buðir in the winter winds, you will know why.
That sand is ground up scallop shells. At 70 miles per hour, it cuts into your face like sharp knives. You will have a hard time just standing up straight.
The land teaches that all falling is not vertical.
Hamrahlið, north of Grund
Good to know.
Grundarfjörður, west of Grund
When we were there, parents were being advised to walk their children under 12 to school, as the hurricane-force winds might blow them over. The older kids could tilt, it seems, like everyone else.
Sheep are not tall.
They let rocks make them tall, but they’re rather squat.
This is because the tall ones blew out to sea.
The rest thrive, sturdily. The one above was made in a 130 km/h blast out of the mountains of North Snæfellsnes.
Icelandic waterfall (windspeed 45m/second).
Ah, the limitations of man-made materials!
Wind! You’d lose the use of one ear most of the time if you didn’t.
A serious issue! Plus, it’s stylish, eh.
If you turn your head, you can hear even better, but you can’t always do that now, can you. You want to, like stand still.
All together now!
There’s no arguing with it. It’s a thing.
Some trolls love the wind.
Others laugh at it.
It’s a good thing, because the wind is everywhere when you live in the sky!
In a country with little sun …
… holes are set in walls …
… but not to let in the light.
Sometimes the old word is best …
The wind’s eye.
It’s the same for the hole in your skull.
The skull’s eye.
It’s best not to let the wind into that one!
Just the sun!