For our first day-trip from Hvoll we drive east. Five hundred meters to the South: the sea. For miles infinity is a thick fog one hundred metres North of the road. We pass vast fields of black nothing in all directions. Apparently arctic foxes roam here. The knobbly black fields begin to get grassy tops. Now there are hay coloured mounds to infinity, like strange music visualisations whizzing past. In the blink of an eye the grassy mounds have turned to rock. The rocks are like splinters speared up from the earth. They are reptilian, fascinatingly ugly, a thing for desolate nightmares.

The fog clears out to the north and mountains come into view, covered in yellow grass up to dark rocky shear cliffs. As the mountains appear the spears of rock become and oozing field of bubbly bright green moss.

It is a lava flow from the 1700s all bulbous and strange and covered in moss up to 500mm thick. It looks like ancient green creatures frozen while trying to clamber over each other – the way corn flour and water goes in a vibrating speaker cone.

The world goes on changing wildly for another hour or so. And then we arrive. We pull left into a grey gravel car park. In front of us is a small rise to a hill and the drive seems like a big effort for nothing.

We climb out of the car and rug up for the cold. It is misty as we climb over the saddle of the hill. At the top we pause to take in the view: a field of icebergs in a huge lagoon surrounded by the shadow of mist-obscured mountains far back in the distance.

The icebergs come from the Jökulsárlón Glacier, assemble in the lagoon here and then wander out to sea through an opening about a kilometre from where we stand.

After taking in a view for a while we begin to explore. We go down to the water’s edge and watch the ice rise and fall as the water laps on the gravel. The reflections and the shimmer off different coloured ice is stunning. From the very top of the hill the view is more isolating. We are in the middle of nowhere and so is this ice. There is no view of where it has come from, and for the moment no view of where it goes either.

After maybe an hour poking around and exploring we cross the road and head to the sea. I think his was even more stunning.

There on the pitch black sandy beach, washed up like whales were thousands of icebergs. All multicoloured like before (deep and light blue and white and clear). Some big ones are being smashed by waves, other have succumb and washed further up the beach and sit half buried in the sand.

It is bleak and eerie and magnificent.