The Lost World – A Journey in Iceland

We arrived too late to see the aurora borealis; too early for the puffins
and the humpback whales. The locals said it was a harsh spring. The
floral landscapes and mossy rooftops we had expected to find were
nowhere to be seen. Instead, the Iceland we discovered was a broad
emptiness, crisscrossed by silent paths. Ours to explore.

We walked a trail paved with lichen, passing bubbling vents, walls of
steam, and warm streams for bathing. Then we listened to the caves send
back the echo of spring waves, a great white noise the seals didn’t seem
to notice. We sat for lunch by windows looking out to the Atlantic; a
menu of fish stew and carrot cake – a meal for overcast days.

At dawn, a quiet harbor; twenty-five boats and the fishermen rubbing
the sleep out of their eyes with coffee. A white-out snowstorm on a
beach of black sand; a ferry crossing and a cloud of godwits spanning the
Breiðafjörður fjord.