The waters of the Eyjafjordur Fjord were still and calm. There was a sharp crispness to the air and snow covered the hills lining the shore. Except for the gentle lapping of water against the sides of our inflatable dive boat, the world around us was silent. To the north we could see heavy gray clouds hanging low to the horizon, the first signs of an approaching storm undoubtedly born in the Arctic wilderness just a few miles away. In a few short hours, the weather would turn bad and diving would become impossible. For now, all was calm and we were focused on preparations for an underwater adventure to an alien world.

As I slide out of the shallow basin and drag myself past the top edge of the drop-off, I find myself hovering in an empty void. Between me and the rock plateau far beneath me, I seem to have nothing but a clear space. It is almost disturbing. Aside from the feeling of drag when moving, it is almost impossible to detect the water we are in. Only the rising stream of bubbles from the air we exhale, gives any indication that we are indeed well submerged in some of the clearest water on the planet, if not the clearest. Visibility just seems endless, almost like air, making long distances difficult to judge.