Sulphur.
Iceland is a young island, relatively speaking. Younger than Scotland, and igneous almost down to the roots. It is the result of lava pouring up out of a crack between the American and European continental plates, eruption after eruption forcing land up out of the sea. It feels like it too, as we drive the hour to Reykjavík - me, my parents, and my youngest sister Emma.
It looks a long way on the map, but takes us only an hour, which gives you some idea of the size of the island. It's big, a similar mass to England, but still not as big as I assumed, and startlingly spare in terms of foliage. The wind whips across moorlike spaces that would seem bleak if not for the sun rolling out every so often to spotlight particular parts of it.
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| Across the bay towards Mount Esja |
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| The Solfariđ (Suncraft) sculpture. I love the shapes in this thing, and immediately had to go climb on it. It's public art, you're clearly meant to do that. |
