The Bárður Snæfellsás stone guardian

At the edge of Arnarstapi, on a grass rise above the harbour, stands Bárður Snæfellsás: a monumental figure built of stacked stone, hooded and faceless, made in honour of the half-troll guardian spirit of the peninsula from the old saga. It is several metres tall, roughly hewn, and from the right angle it looks less like a statue than like something that walked up out of the rock.

It gives you the one thing this coast otherwise lacks — a vertical, human-shaped subject. Shoot from low so the figure towers, with the couple small at its feet and sky behind; or step round to the seaward side and use the arch of its legs as a frame, with Snæfellsjökull's ice cap in the gap on a clear day. The figure is open to the sky and the light works from every side at some point in the day, but the sea-facing angles are best late, when the sun is low over the water.

It is a two-minute walk from the car park on flat grass, which makes it the practical anchor of an Arnarstapi session: dresses and heels survive it, older relatives can come, and it is a short retreat when the cliff path gets too windy. The village and the harbour just below add a second, softer scene of coloured houses and small boats.

Courtesies and cautions: the sculpture is a monument, not climbing equipment — keep off it and off the stones of its base. The ground around is grazing land and nesting ground in season; stay on the worn paths, and if arctic terns are about between roughly May and August, do not linger in the grass. Wind is constant here; anything loose, veils included, will go over the cliff if it gets away.