Iceland’s south coast has a quality that is hard to put into words.
On this day at Dyrhólaey, the light was soft, the wind gentle, and the ocean unusually calm.
I was actually out searching for puffins — my heart has a soft spot for these small, charismatic birds — but then this view unfolded in front of me: the black sands of Reynisfjara, the rugged cliffs stretching into the distance, and the Reynisdrangar sea stacks rising from the Atlantic like silent sentinels.
It is the kind of panorama that makes you stop without realizing it.
No rush. No thoughts. Just the sound of the waves far below and the feeling of being very small in a vast place.
I came to Iceland chasing a volcano — but moments like this are the reason the island never really lets me go.
