With the mountains aglow in the evening sun, we came ashore for an impromptu after dinner landing in a remote fjord on Iceland’s north coast. We climbed the lush green slope up above the Zodiac landing to an old cemetery and the ruins of a small church. With the wind virtually nonexistent, the calls of small flocks of golden plovers could be heard clearly as the birds passed overhead. A mother ptarmigan, inconspicuous in her cryptic brown plumage, watched over her brood of small chicks not far from where we sat in the lush tundra.
As the sun crept slowly down towards the horizon, we took position on the hillside in anticipation of a potential green flash at sunset. The few clouds in the sky glowed a brilliant pink as the last bit of sun dipped behind the darkening sea. As it did, the yellow-orange turned green before our eyes, with many of us in disbelief that we had actually just witnessed our first green flash ever.