Airwaves

‘The Land of Fire and Ice’ they call it, and for good reason. The journey from the airport took me along route 41. To my left the bitter North Atlantic Sea was battering the rocky coastline; to my right, a wide expanse of olive-green moss lay like a shawl across the shadowy lava rock formations. Up ahead, snowy mountains emerged through the haze as the bus drew near to Reykjavik. The cold salt spray, whipped up from the waves and carried by the wind, settled on the windows, slowly transforming the photogenic view into a glistening watercolour painting. It was easy to see how a landscape as diverse and dramatic as this had become such an important influence on JRR Tolkien’s trilogy.

A quick transfer at the bus terminal in Reykjavik and soon we were pulling up in Grettisgata where I was to be staying for the duration of the Iceland Airwaves music festival - a quiet road running parallel to the main shopping street. It was the perfect location. A quick glance around the apartment revealed no more than the online photos and description had shown: a small, comfortable studio flat which I would happily call home for the next 10 days. I chucked my bags onto the bed and grabbed a few warmer layers. Pulling out my Fuji, I loaded it with card and battery and stuffed it into a jacket pocket, closing the door behind me as I set out to locate Harpa.

I looked up as faint snowflakes began to drift in on the northerly Arctic breeze. The spire of Hallgrímskirkja Church pierced the faint blue sky behind my apartment. It flashed in and out of view like an image within a zoetrope, as I picked up my pace for warmth. Turning the corner at the end of Vatnsstigur, I came face to face with the Sólfar (Sun Voyager) sculpture, framed against a backdrop of mountains soaring upwards on the far side of the bay. But where was Harpa? This spectacular concert hall was where I would need to claim my festival wristband the following day. Turning to look along the waterfront I saw it – how could I have missed it? – it’s interior lighting illuminating the kaleidoscopic glass panels like a backlit mosaic in the soft glow of the setting sun.

Behind me hissed the brakes of another airport shuttle, pulling up across the road. Tourists tumbled off the bus. I could hear a multitude of languages, peppered with the occasional use of the word ‘Airwaves’. This would be a day to remember, I smiled in the realisation that the city was just warming up for what was going to be an unforgettable event.