We savor the late afternoon sun in the enchanted lava fields of Eldhraun. A patchwork of textures and hues, clumpy, chunky and squishy to the touch these verdant mosses extend as far as the eye can see. This mystical place transcends storybook pages temping us to romp about the spongy green amidst the elves, trolls, and “huldufolk” (hidden people), springing from puff to puff like unsupervised children on the living room furniture; what fun! But romp we will not as these are sacared grounds. For frolicking is destructive and one footstep is said to take 10 years to repair. So, we settle for one clever shot upon the outer fringe.
Pulling down the road to our hotel in the last moments of daylight a reflective flash draws our attention to a modular mecca in the middle of nowhere. Ushered in like a train on invisible track, abandoned in this perfect spot the Foss Hotel feels like something straight out of a Bond movie.