One reason to go Iceland in February is the reasonable sunrise time, meaning that you can get a decent night's sleep without having to get up ridiculously early and still get up for that hopefully magical light. On this trip, my earliest sunrise time was 8.41am (towards the end of my trip, in Vik) which meant that the earliest I really had to be out and about was at around 8am, 40 minutes before sunrise for civil twilight. When I go in late March, sunrise is a lot earlier and I get really exhausted. One reason not to visit Iceland in February, however, is the weather.
On my second morning in Iceland the sunrise wasn't until 9.19am, so I had a little lie in; the weather-forecast for the day was still pretty terrible, just without dangerous winds, so I didn't feel the need to rush. I had a lovely breakfast of waffles with delicious rhubarb jam at Nonni's Guesthouse, chatting to an English couple who'd driven west the previous day through the gales I'd avoided. They recounted how scary it had been, with driving snow and wind so strong that they couldn't see the next yellow post ahead of them. They'd managed to damage one of their car's doors when opening it - the wind had yanked it out of the hinge; they weren't looking forward to returning it to the rental company.... I had definitely made the right decision, even though I was still annoyed at having missed the ice cave trip (especially since they'd only refunded 80%, even though they'd found someone else to fill my spot).
I set off at 9am, still keen to get to Jökulsárlón in good time. My first stop was Seljalandsfoss, a pretty waterfall that I've visited a few times before, and now barely bother with unless the light is great (which it's usually not, as it faces south-west, so you have to be there late in the day to catch it at its best). I drove up the short road and took a quick shot from the car; the light was dull, as expected, with flat overcast pale grey skies. I was impatient to get to my favourite destination, so I quickly continued on my way.
One of the benefits of having visited Iceland so many times, and retracing similar routes, is that I don't feel as if I have to stop everywhere now. As a result, driving across the country in bad weather is a lot less disappointing than it might otherwise be! If the weather's really bad, I just won't bother stopping at a site, because there's no need. I've usually seen it in better weather on one trip or other, so feel happy to just carry on past it. Plus if I'm driving back the same way I can always stop on the way back. As a result, I drove past Skogafoss, and Vik, places I usually stop at for at least half an hour if not a lot longer.
Having said that, there are a few places where I always stop, as a sort of tradition. One of them is where there are small piles of lava dotted across the landscape, in the Myrdalsandur, between Vik and Kirkjubæjarklaustur (Klaustur), before the hilly moss-covered lava field. It's not even particularly interesting, but there's a small car-park and for some reason I always pull in; it always seems to be snowy there too. Each trip I try to explore a couple of new places, and this time one of the places on the list was the
Fjaðrárgljúfur
canyon, just before Klaustur. Given the ever-worsening weather I
decided to visit it on my return journey, when hopefully the weather
would be better and I'd have a bit more time.
My next stop, then, was on the other side of Klaustur, after a quick stop for a little top-up of petrol (I'm now paranoid about running out, so rarely go below about a third of a tank). There was a pretty line of leafless birch trees running parallel to the road which caught my eye, with the dark skies contrasted against the snowy ground.
I never stop for long, especially when the weather's so nasty; there was a constant cold drizzle in the air which wasn't enjoyable to be out in for more than a couple of minutes. I carried on along the ring-road, with patchy slush and ice on the road, passing practically no-one. Along the road between Klaustur and
Lómagnúpur are jagged low cliffs off to the north, from which various waterfalls pour. Next stop was the waterfall at
Foss á Siðu, which sometimes seems to flow upwards. The wind wasn't bad there today, though, so the waterfall cascaded gracefully downwards to the snow below. The place looked a bit miserable, with the rain having washed away most of the snow to reveal the browny-yellow grass. A light mist fell over the crest of the hills behind the village so it did look quite atmospheric.
The mountains further east of Foss á Siðu were also shrouded in a light mist which looked rather lovely - at least I could see something! I tried out the heavy zoom lens that I'd rented (the mammoth
Canon EF 100-400mm f/4.5-5.6L IS II USM), to try to capture some detail in the mountains. It weighs just over 1.6kg, so using it hand-held for any length of time is not all that comfortable. I took a few shots from the car, with the engine off and window down, feeling a little lazy in doing so. Snow and icicles nestled in the nooks of the steep-sided cliffs.
The next place that I always stop at to enjoy the view is at Lómagnúpur, my favourite Icelandic mountain. It sits high above the landscape and marks the beginning of the stretch to the glacier region. Sadly, a view of the imposing mass was not to be today. I still took a shot of where the mountain should be... The grasses still looked quite pretty in the snow. No glaciers to be seen either.
With the lack of decent views I stopped a lot less than I usually do, and was making good time. I sailed past the turn-offs to Skaftafell and Svinafellsjökull, and pulled into the carpark at the lagoon at Jökulsárlón at 1.15pm. It looked much as I remembered it, with the mountains and glacier only vaguely visible in the murk, but the icebergs were far bluer than I'd seen before, massive blue chunks clogging the lake. I had a slice of stodgy apple cake and machine coffee in the café before heading out to walk along the edge of the lagoon, still armed with the large zoom lens. I tried to capture some birds flying over the ice, but lack of practice with the big lens meant that my hit rate was not very high - it took me a long time to get the lens to focus on the gulls, which were unhelpfully skittish in their flight patterns. In spite of the drizzle, the place was still thronging with tourists (again, the fact that it was Valentine's Day probably didn't help).
I didn't stay all that long, as the beach - my goal! - was beckoning. I drove across to the west side of the bridge (for once there were icebergs on both beaches), parked and prepared my camera equipment for the rain. The beach wasn't too busy, the driving rain putting people off, I guess. Again I was using the long heavy zoom, this time protected with a cheap rain cover I'd bought. Again I had trouble getting sharp shots - this is not a great lens for doing any long exposure with, I learnt - even 1/5th second - as any slight movement from the wind catches it as it sticks out so far (especially with the hood on, which is necessary to protect it from raindrops). I found a beautifully-sculpted iceberg and took quite a few of that, but I
only lasted an hour and a quarter out there, before the
rain and the rain cover irritated me too much. I couldn't see the
shots I was taking through the clear plastic, nor review them easily. I
ended up deleting a lot of the shots, which was disappointing; I'd have to be more careful with the focusing next time.
I dragged myself away and headed to Hali, the guesthouse that I always stay in, 13km from the beach. I was allocated the tiny single room where I usually stay (last year I had a big double), which made me feel at home, and settled in for the night reviewing the photos, manically checking the aurora and weather-forecasts every ten minutes in case there was some miraculous break in the clouds. I cooked some pasta, had one of my few beers, Skyped hubby, and had an early night given that the cloud cover forecast was 100%.
Click here for Day 1 - A Meander Around the Golden Circle
Click here for Day 3 - A Day at Jökulsárlón
The light and colour soon faded as the sun set (no sign of it behind the clouds) making way for the blue hour, my favourite time on Jökulsárlón Beach. 
