Leaving Eyafjallajökull, the golden light followed us on our way to Skógar and Skógafoss (60m high and 25m long).
The water sprinkled a cold and frosty shimmer and our shadows grew even longer.
Not many people here – and even fewer ventured close to the foss…icicles formed directly in your hair.
Just around the corner, there is an open air museum where the houses are free to visit. The 18th century typical turf cottages with furniture and all.
The sun very low but our spirits high when we entered the car again for Vik, the southernmost village in Iceland. In my memory, one of the most enigmatic places in this part of Iceland – and indeed it still is!
The chocolate brown cliffs and seastacks…
and the black sand rustling…
in the roaring waves…
slowly turning into gold in the setting sun
Pure magic –
I wanted to stay in that moment alone –
In these surroundings, Njal and Gunnar, in the old Saga, lived and died…Markarfljot is not far away…They did not believe in the same Gods, but the two of them were the best of friends. Standing by the sea tonight I could imagine, maybe…why.
But, within an hour the sun would be gone, and we just had to catch a last glimpse of Seljalandsfoss as well. After all, I believe she is a ”she”, letting down her laced veil for us who cannot walk her to the altar…