'' Fjaðrárgljúfur in Yellow ''
- Daniel Owl -
Mid-May, and the green hadn't arrived yet. Winter had come late this year, and the fields were still yellow — Fjaðrárgljúfur caught between seasons, looking unlike anything I had seen before.
The sun was high and unforgiving. Hard light, blown highlights, crushed shadows — not the ideal conditions for a canyon this dramatic. But sometimes the challenge is part of the story.
The sun was high and unforgiving. Hard light, blown highlights, crushed shadows — not the ideal conditions for a canyon this dramatic. But sometimes the challenge is part of the story.
I stayed close to the edge, watching the river carve its way through millions of years of rock, and wondered how many people had stood here and felt exactly the same: small, grateful, and completely unable to look away.
