The fog hangs low over the cliff tops just a short distance from the cliffs of Dyrhólaey with its sea arches and lighthouse. Puffins fight the wind and hunker down against the storm, their time on shore nearly over for another year.
Kirkjufjara Beach is black, the volcanic sand darker than usual in the low light, the sea a foaming white. A sea stack stands proud, immovable in the wild storm. Known as Arnardrangur or “Eagle Rock” it takes its name from the eagles that nested in its crevices in the past. Colour is sucked from the world by the thick fog, rain and howling Atlantic gale the shrouds the headland and the beach making it feel like winter has come early.