With our heads down, our hands clutching our jackets, and the icy wind singing in our ears we walked to Vik’s famous black beach. As it started drizzling, it was hard to believe our eyes when we started to gaze at this unreal landscape on the edge of the wild atlantic ocean.
Bizarre basalt rock formations forms the cliffs on the edge of the beach, and beyond – as solitary spires reach out from the ocean floor in the distance. The white foam of the piercing ocean pushes violently in and then tugs back out, creating, for a moment, a shade of grey on the black beach as it pulls back towards itself.
And then that black sand. Blacker than we imagined, and more pervasive, tracing Iceland’s boundaries where they aren’t marked with steep cliffs or frozen fjords. It makes the ocean seem sinister, vaster, both more alive and more desolate than before.
Maybe its magic that grey morning may be owed to the perfectly stormy weather, but that is what the black beach was to us, and we loved it.