Upon landing, I was met with acres and acres of sprawling desolate land. It was cragged, fractured - but solid in it's base. It looked to the naked eye like it had won a long, hard fought duel with nature's unpredictability.
Snorkelling conjures trips to the Caribbean, coral reefs and parrot fish, not frozen tundra in the Summer, titanic glaciers and migrating Canadian geese. Still, I was intrigued, and not just by the idea of paddling in freezing water.
On the plane home I realise: Reykjavík is easier to access from London than the North of our own country, in terms of time and money. But from there, with a little money and imagination, you can enter an other world, a landscape from the pages of fairytales.