The bus eases out of Reykjavik while a low winter light slides across lava fields and sheep-studded pastures. By midmorning the asphalt gives way to an Iceland of hard geology and impatient weather: the rift valley at Thingvellir where the North American and Eurasian plates pull apart, the boiling theater of Geysir with Strokkur’s regular tantrums, and the thunder of Gullfoss cutting powdery spray into the air. After six to eight hours of shorelines, craters and short hikes you return to the city to warm up, eat, and recharge before the hunt for the aurora begins.