Mjóifjörður in east Iceland is among the most spectacular fjords, one that lies off the beaten circuit. It is a place that is very dear to me. A grand total of 35 hardy souls call this remote outpost home. On this evening we got a demonstration of Iceland‘s notoriously fickle weather. No sooner had we descended into the fjord than the fog moved in, rapidly obscuring the mountains and the water, trapping us in a scape of shadowy mystery. Ethereal does not even come close to describing the feeling.
This sequence of images tracks our ingress and retreat.
Doggie dude refused to budge, so I included him in the composition.
Ruins of a stranded World War II British landing craft, party illuminated by our car lights.
After our ‘escape’, Mjóifjörður looking down was a cotton bowl.