Summer Stories: Chasing the Sun, Catching the Moon - by Horia Dicher

To be read while listening to the album “First Light” by Jónsi

Perfect pavement, unexpectedly clean, climbing a steep slope. A seagull perfectly still in the air, testing the balance of wind and gravity. Freezing cold, but sunny, how can this be August? Across the water, a slope – green at the bottom, then rocky, and gradually vanishing into puffs of sugary clouds. At 9 am, when the town barely awakens, an unbelievable lunch of lamb, beef, and vegetables is served without anyone blinking. Soon the streets get flooded with heavy coated souls speaking other languages. Land of Fire and Ice.

The road is neither steep, nor long, but at the end of it the whole world seems to lie below. Maybe not the ice cap between two stone ledges defining the horizon, but everything else: the beach, the ocean, the grassy field. At the top, the trail is short and almost circular, surrounded by impossible surfaces of granite and basalt experimenting vertical angles towards the black sand.

Puffins show off with short flights looping from the green patches into the abyss and back, waiting for the reaction with a curious eye.

Dyrhόlaey Peninsula Viewpoint (Puffin)

On one side, the rocky exhibit stretches into the ocean, bouncing a couple of times before resting in the water, broken by two majestic openings for the wind to enjoy.

Dyrhόlaey Rocks, Iceland’s Southernmost Point

Another parking lot guarded by mean cameras waiting for you to leave without using the payment app… A short walk, and then the parking is forgotten: another waterfall sculpting new colors of stone in a shape we have not seen before, proving that nature invented art before us. As you get closer, water splashes your face and a rainbow splashes your eyes.

Háifoss & Grannifoss Waterfalls

The asphalt winds between lunar landscapes of porous boulders with unknown shapes, some seeming to float where light slips underneath them, unreal. Darker, smoother surfaces spooned a little farther contradict the lunar hypothesis; this must be lava… At the horizon, the dark blue waves confirm: still on Earth. After a short ritual through a building of glass, stone, and wood, a wooden board-walk leads to milky-blue waters under mystic steam. Once you dip in, the hot liquid melts your tensions and stress into the light vapor that is gently rising into the heavens. The lagoon is, indeed, blue.

Blue Lagoon

Mornings can be strenuous if the night is not long enough, as the daylight eats away at it the closer you get to the Arctic Circle. Gear goes into the hybrid ready for a new adventure, followed by three vociferous goons never in tune… The cabin tucked between waves of bushes sprinkled with singing birds is left behind.

Winding between valleys, peaks, sea, and sky, the drive is endless but never boring. Charming becomes magic, as the line on the map follows the sea deep into the land, then back out again. As this dance of the elements grows into a symphony for the eye, we are approaching our final destination. With streaks of snow in the distance, the last couple of kilometers get almost treacherous, steep and rocky.

If only the Sun could stay stronger than the clouds…

But the clouds gain ground. The battle is quiet and painful to watch as we wait for the

catharsis…

With half an hour left, the Moon slides between the clouds, eating slices of our star. When half of it is gone, the clouds win, making our trip suddenly seem pointless…

Then the darkness comes, reminding us that we cannot control the miracle, but we can enjoy the show. Long minutes pass; the camera is useless on the tripod…

With magic dimming, we breathe out.

Then the light resurrects, and we breathe in again.

We feel the Flow in our cells, as spectators in nature’s front row.

We look around and rediscover the landscape.

We never saw the sun disappear. We never got the photograph we came for. The unwitnessed miracle is a new kind of miracle.

There is always time for more…