It was a cold and frosty morning, the sun was having the same struggle climbing over the horizon as I had from under my duvet (a blizzard had raged the previous day). I found myself completely alone at this point, just a mile or so down a dirt track nearly at the distant end of the Snæfelsness peninsular on the other side of the bay opposite Reyjavik.
The legendary Snæfelsjokull looms in the distance with its permanent snow cap and glacier, unreachable in the winter. Difficult to imagine that I was among rocks that were once white hot and liquid enough to flow for a few miles before setting in as a crusty statue to mark the eruption of a 1000 years ago. A monument to a cataclysm.
What I found interesting was the binding of liquid rock and ice. Two opposed elements uniquely joined in a moment of history.