iceland, part two | the road to vík.

the morning of our first wedding anniversary, we set out from reykjavík with the blooming pink dawn, hands cradling hot coffees and sights set on fjords and waterfalls, glaciers and black sand beaches. vík was our destination, but the thrill was tucked entirely in wending along iceland's southern coast.

every few miles, we stopped for something or other — to pet ponies, to stand in awe of the majestic seljalandsfoss and skógafoss waterfalls, to marvel at the way roads wrap around volcanoes. we hiked to seljvallalaug, a steamy 1920s swimming pool perched in the shadow of eyjafjallajökull, and chris went for a spontaneous dip. for lunch, we bought hot dogs from a roadside cafe. icelanders do love their hot dogs with sweet mustard and onions and remoulade, and it was one of our most loved meals.

this time of year, the sun never rises high and we felt bewitched by the way the light falls softly across the infinite horizon, casting mystical shadows on lava fields and mossy hills and ice caps. we found it easy to breathe in a place like that — a land so vast and unending, so silent and still.