“The greatest loss lies in our inability to accept loss.” 
― Craig D. Lounsbrough

I have a strange fascination with abandoned buildings, always wondering how they became abandoned and the stories they must have to tell when they were somebody’s home.

Along the Ring Road we travelled through Iceland, there are many of these empty shells, some quite ancient, many perched along a lonely mountainside, lost in the vast, empty landscape which is present in much of Iceland. It struck me as emptiness in emptiness.

Take this house, for example. It’s on the shores of the Heiðará river, just past Heiðarfall mountain that dominates yesterday’s image. It sits on a field of the ever present yellow grasses and mosses, along the river, next the main Icelandic highway, with a tall mountain for a backyard. If you look closely, you can see that there must have been patches of garden at one point, given the drainage ditch and rectangular area of grass to the right of the house. The house itself does not look too old and the roof is in good repair, at least from this vantage point. Yet, it’s clearly abandoned.

Who lived here? A solitary sheep farmer or a family? There is easy access to water as well as the road, not to mention that the city of Akureyri, is only a short drive away. I’d love to know the story, but I fear it is lost in time and the wide and wild spaces of Iceland.

Nikon D800
Tamron SP 70-200mm f/2.8 Di VC USD @ 70mm
1/100 sec, f/5.0 ISO 200

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