Iceland: sea blue, moss green, ice white, volcanic black.
Cairns, tall against the low landscape, mark ancient trackways. The landscape buckles and breaks apart: giant fissures split the lava fields into geometric patterns, softened by the ever present steam of hot springs and spongy mosses.
Heat from silica rimmed pools contrasts starkly with ice cold wind which blows steam horizontally towards the setting sun. The smell of sulphur lingers in the air and in our heavily conditioned hair. The blue lagoon is an experience of extremes.
An ever changing weather system fails to dampen spirits. The Gulfoss waterfall drenches with spray and the chasing rain drives us indoors for soup and to dry off.
The geyser of Geysir amuses and amazes the waiting crowd with booming eruptions. As the sun comes out rainbows provide a stairway to Valhalla for those unwilling to take their chances in battle.
At Thingvellir, the ancient peoples gathered to discuss and build a nation. All around the earth has pulled itself apart; the wall winds towards the ceremonial cemetery of Nobel prize winners and Icelandic heroes.
Glowing jewel bright, the intriguing Harpa building ripples at night like an electric aurora borealis. Without warning the sky shimmers and glows; A short celestial light show to end our brief sojourn in this land of ice and fire.
©Chez l’abeille 2015