Erlendur stood by the derelict farm that had once been his home, looking up at Mount Hardskafi. It was difficult to see the mountain because of the icy fog that was sinking ever lower over the fjord. He was well equipped, in his old walking boots, thick waterproof trousers and a warm down jacket. After gazing at the mountain for a long time in solemn silence, he set off on foot, with a walking stick in his hand and a small pack on his back. He made quick progress, enfolded in the hush of nature now fallen into its winter sleep. Before long he had disappeared into the cold fog.