Golden Crown
15:30 late afternoon, mid-November in eastern Iceland, and the sun is setting in the south-west.
Looking north across Berufjörður, the mountains behind us are casting shadows onto the peaks on the opposite side of the fjord. Gradually they have crept up the faces of the mountains, and I have watched, spellbound.
A bizarre mountain named Stöng has a strange spiked pinnacle. For a perfect moment, only the very tip of it is sunset-lit.
