Just as I was getting well adjusted to Iceland, my week long trip was coming to an end. I found my self dumbfounded in awe, (for lack of a better description), at the amount of pressure and forces that tear the island apart (tectonic plates and volcanoes), and the freezing temperatures of glaciers that regulate the climate for the rest of the world.
From Reykjavík, the beautiful capitol city on the western coast, I drove to the far south-east to Jökuslárlón, a glacier lagoon that spills into the Atlantic Ocean. I spent hours driving alone in the pristine countryside, on the only major highway that encompasses the country. Finally I have arrived at the lagoon. 64.0784° N, 16.2306° W is its coordinates. For me its the beginning and the end in an endless cycle; infinity. It is the end of winter here with spring around the corner. Birth, death, and rebirth.
I already planned on taking 20 polaroids of the ice flows. The images were in my head, even before i got here. However, I did not plan on the worst weather to happen on this leg of my trip. High winds and rain persisted as I approached the lot of cars parked up ahead. Excited as ever to have finally arrived, I got out of my rental car and stepped forward towards the edge to survey the scene.