The glacier lagoon was much more impressive than I had imagined. Huge pieces of ice, fractured from Breiðamerkurjökull glacier, drift across the lagoon in shades of white and blue, some streaked with volcanic ash. Across the road, pieces eventually wash ashore on Diamond Beach, scattered across black volcanic sand. But what I remember most is the sound. At first, almost nothing. Wind. Water. An occasional bird. Stand there longer, and the silence begins to reveal itself. Icebergs grind against one another. Ice shifts with deep cracks. At Diamond Beach, Atlantic waves hit the shore and retreat around chunks of ice. Occasionally, a seal breaks through the soundtrack.