Water is everywhere, falling, rushing, carving its way through cliffs that seem to accept erosion as part of their identity. Waterfalls appear suddenly, sometimes framed by green moss, sometimes spilling straight from rock. The glaciers loom quietly in the background, vast and indifferent, reminding you that time here operates on a scale far beyond human schedules. Along the coast, black sand beaches stretch endlessly, the Atlantic arriving in heavy, deliberate breaths. Villages like Vík feel held between elements, mountains at their backs, ocean at their feet, sky doing most of the talking.