It does not feel anything like being on a mountaintop.
The dark chasm plummets to the ocean floor at the Mid-Atlantic Ridge, where the Earth was riven long before humans arrived.
Although one can stand at Reykjanes Ridge, the vast scarred mountain range remains almost entirely hidden beneath the sea.
Where I stood in southwestern Iceland, the jagged outline where the earth had parted resembled a raptor rising in flight. But what truly drew my eye was the surrounding color. Rich russet, sparkling copper, bright lime velvet moss, and honeysuckle grasses swept out to the cerulean sky and sea.
Silver water pooled in boulders’ concentric swirls and rose in distant feathered steam plumes.
At the same spot where the Earth’s vast energy cleaved continental plates, on this still day plants grew yet more imperceptibly than the divide, turning a dusting of light rain into a bright autumnal landscape.