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.
[…] Fog in the Fjord » Photo Blog by Rajan Parrikar […]
Absolutely agree, a very good day ! I specially like the one with the farmer and the sheep.
Beautiful! I have similar memories of the Oslofjord in late winter. It was a waking dream. As Wallace Stevens says in his poem Notes Toward A Supreme Fiction,
Perhaps there are moments of awakening,
Extreme, fortuitous, personal, in which
We more than awaken, sit on the edge of sleep,
As on an elevation, and behold
The academies like structures in a mist.
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