Thursday 5th January 2017 

I sifted the black sand at Reynisfjara Beach through my fingers and looked onto the crashing waves, thinking of the endless swell of the Atlantic Ocean, how it surged without the interruption of land all the way to Antarctica. “Don’t turn your back on the sea, not even for a moment” our guide had told us, a party of five travellers: one couple and two other women travelling solo.  ‘Sneaker waves’ prowled the shore here; creeping, powerful things hiding behind small, innocent waves that lured naive tourists to the water’s edge before the lurking breakers pounced. “I worked in sea rescue for years but let me tell you, if one of those waves gets you, there’s no hope. Either the current or the cold will get you before I can.”

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