Without regret

Vik, a tiny town at the southern tip of Iceland, boasts a famous cluster of cliffs and stacks called Reynisdrangar visible from the expansive black beach, permanently obscured by a fog of sea spray that engulfs the entire coast with an inpenetrable, milky lens. The beach probably knows no such thing as a breeze, its entire length misted with a haze stirred wildly by the turbulent open water that crashes heavily onto the rugged Icelandic coastline, wild as her violent geologic past. Braving the biting wind that makes even opening the eyes a painful struggle, and then in a moment, drawing in deeply, the cold, damp Icelandic air - it leaves you wanting, feeling small, weak, afraid.

Beautiful silence

Jokulsarlon, a glacier lagoon in south Iceland, is stunning in countless ways. Most breathtaking, perhaps, is its deafening silence punctuated with the gentle dripping purrs of the ice melting, while your serene reverence for the almost holy atmosphere can suddenly be shaken by a crack of shattering ice, followed by a satisfying splash of water. The soft rippling stirred by playful seals is only rudely interrupted by the half-hourly amphibious ride that clumsily ferries shivering tourists into the lagoon. And to the relief of the awestruck wanderer strolling by the black sand bank, it quickly disappears behind the larger ice floes. He is grateful for the luxury of crisp, peaceful silence.