I grew up in the country. The forest that surrounded our house was my playground. As a kid I spent days exploring caves and climbing young trees until they bent and returned me to earth. One day I lost track of time. Evening descended and rain fell. I was lost. The place that I usually enjoyed so much suddenly became a place that scared me. The noise over there in the leaves that I would have ignored in daylight made my heart race. While the experience was frightening, it was not unpleasant. It was exciting.
In an average week, Iceland’s national network that monitors seismic activity detects hundreds of earthquakes. Most are hardly noticeable little jiggles. Some are big enough to alter the landscape. Myra and I stopped by this little waterfall in Northern Iceland and set out on a hike. We had just walked down the trail and over the bridge when the ground quivered. A hill collapsed in front of us sending boulders tumbling across our path only a few feet from where we were. It was a frightening experience. It was also exhilarating. We have a good story to tell.
I’ve been a photographer for a long time because I like taking pictures.