The rain can be a blessing. A rainy morning in Iceland means I get a decent night's sleep. A decent night's sleep means a happy Sophie. I've been to Iceland so many times now that I don't feel compelled to go out and take photographs on rainy mornings! I've photographed some places so often, and under very different weather conditions, so if I miss a morning of photography it's really not a big deal (and if I slept in and missed amazing light conditions I guess I'd never know anyway!). This was one of those days. I was heading to Stafafell, having decided to spend only two nights at Jökulsárlón instead of the usual 3 or 4, giving me more time to spend further east, exploring the area without the snow. I managed to get up, eat breakfast, pack and check out, and get down onto the beach by 11.40am by which stage it had stopped raining and the sun had even begun to come out a bit - very similar conditions to the previous morning.
The tide was really far out revealing some icebergs on a sandbank, with a few people were milling about among the bergs. I headed over there - jumping across a small channel. The water in the short river that links the lagoon to the sea had been flowing out at high speed again, so I was fairly confident that the tide was going further out, and that the island would be safe for a while. The iceberg situation wasn't great - again - but I wandered around among them, hoping to find some interesting patterns for macro work (I'd lugged the heavy macro lens with me for four days without using it, so it was about time).
I did a couple of long exposure shots before finding a suitable contender for the macro work (the colour cast on the B+W ND filters was giving me an annoying pinkness that I couldn't get rid of satisfactorily in processing).
It is amazing what you can see when you look into an iceberg. The way the light falls and the sun and sky reflect changes with every change in angle, and a whole new world is opened up to you. The reading glasses were on, the macro lens was out, and I kept discovering more amazing patterns. Small piles of miniature pebbles sat in icy pools, veins of ice twisted inside the ice, thin wafers looked like butterfly wings, surfaces looked like little metallic mazes, and small air bubbles reflected the sky above and appeared a wonderful blue. One of the bubbles inside even looked a but rude... I was in macro heaven, in spite of the challenges of trying to get close enough (with or without the tripod) and the extremely narrow depth of field.
A Chinese couple approached me and asked me what I was photographing (this often happens when I'm using the Canon M-PE 65mm macro lens as I have to get soooo close to the subject), so I pointed out the blue discs; they proceeded to try to capture them on their smart phone (and probably got decent-enough shots) and thanked me for pointing them out. I had a look around and suddenly noticed that the small channel in the distance was beginning to fill with more water, even though the tide looked as if it was still going out from the lagoon. I quickly headed over towards it and shouted at another couple of photographers and tourists to go back to the main beach. In my wellies I was still able to get across without getting wet feet, but others wouldn't have been so dry. When I got to the safety of the shore I wandered along a little, parallel with the slowly-disappearing sand island, and shouted and waved my arms at a photographer who was staying out - beckoning and gesturing wildly towards the deepening channel. He eventually cottoned on and headed back across. I was rather dismayed to see a couple crossing from the main beach to the island - in a few minutes they'd be wading back through an extremely cold, fast-flowing river. Oh well, they'd soon learn what a stupid mistake they were making.
I headed back up the beach and lost sight of the island, so didn't see what happened. It was about 1.30pm by the time I was back at the sunny lagoon, which looked pretty similar to the previous day, although the sky above was clearer.
As I got nearer to the car park a young couple dressed in what looked like Scottish Arran sweaters headed to the shore with a photographer in tow (surely Icelandic lopapeysa would've been more appropriate for this kind of shoot). The woman had a long flowing skirt with layers and layers of lace, all blowing crazily in the wind, which had just picked up (it always picks up there). The outer skirt matched the colour of the icebergs. Eventually she got it under control and the photographer was able to ask the guy to join her.
My time at Jökulsárlón was over, and now it was time to head further east, to my beloved Stafafell. Sadly I hadn't been able to get one of the cottages, as they're obviously pretty popular now, but the hostel was open and had a single room available, so that was nearly as good an option. On the way there, though, I had another glacial lagoon to discover, which I'd been told about on my previous trip by the German photographer I'd met there,
Annette Webersinke - Heinabergsjökull. A much greater effort has to be made to reach this one, than Kvíarjökull, but it was worth the trip. My first stop, of course, was at the treeline, which didn't look quite so impressive on an autumnal day. The wind had died down and most of the clouds gone and it had turned into a rather lovely day.
I stopped a couple of times to capture the beautiful scenery - it looks so stunning on a glorious day and without the ice and snow I even noticed some wonderful basalt columns that I hadn't seen before!
I took a turn off to the left, following a gravel road for quite a while, heading towards the glacial lake. There was a little diversion with an option to go over a cute little old narrow bridge across a river, but I detoured around - it didn't look very safe! I caught up with another car and then had to drive in their dust, which was a bit annoying - I do drive a bit faster than others on these roads. It was quite a long way, and after about 6km (it was very slow!) there was a fork in the road, with one direction heading to a waterfall and another to the glacier. I stuck to the plan, reached the car-park (where there were only two other cars - the joy of going a little off the main road!) and headed off on a little hike. It was already 2.40pm, so time was limited as I still had a way to go. One couple had just returned and there was just another woman left, also on her own (unusual to see anyone on their own really in Iceland), so quite a contrast from the lagoon at busy Jökulsárlón. I walked down to the edge of the lake, which was lined with colourful kayaks.
It wasn't as impressive as Kvíarjökull; at least in this lovely weather it didn't look quite so dramatic. I walked along the shore of the lake for a while, before turning round and heading back on the hill above the beach. The surrounding area was mainly gravelly, with some piles of rocks shattered by frost, and autumnal low shrubs.
I drove back to the main road, via the rickety bridge (which was fine), and continued on towards Höfn. I saw my only reindeers of the trip on the north side of the road, and they scarpered as I neared.
I made a quick stop at my favourite tree, which also didn't look nearly as nice without the snow; the trees were lost against the grass.
I continued on, making a quick stop at the supermarket in Höfn to get some fresh food, arriving at the hostel at around 5pm. I was greeted by Sigurdur and he apologised that the yellow hut wasn't available for me. Obviously I have to be a bit more organised, earlier, if I want to stay there in the busier autumn season. I had a small room with a bunkbed and a sink, and the hostel had a sitting area upstairs, and a big kitchen/dining room. I headed off pretty quickly, going the short distance to Hvalnes, one of my favourite spots. It's not ideal for sunset, as the sun dips behind the mountains quite a bit before the actual sunset, but it's still spectacular. There were a couple of cars parked up near the lighthouse, which I was a bit annoyed about - this used to be undiscovered! It was really windy and cold - again I was glad I'd brought the warm down jacket - but I found a slightly sheltered spot on the hill above the beach. In addition to the mountains, there were also quite a few clouds around to block the sun, but they added a bit of drama to the otherwise blue skies.
I took a couple of long exposure shots but there weren't really enough clouds for good streaks across the sky. The colour cast on the B+W ND filter was a bit noticeable (always is, sadly) so I converted it to black and white.
After a while I drove back a little along the road home and pulled in at the small parking area where I'd once seen a truck driver pull in to just admire the view - I love that spot. I wandered down to the shore and watched some swans - there were thousands of them in the lagoon.
The sun had now set and began reflecting on the clouds.
As I photographed the swans I suddenly noticed that the reflections on the water were incredible.
When I zoomed in they became even more beautiful! Amazing what patterns you can suddenly see if you look closely... One of the many reasons that I use the 70-200mm lens for landscape photography so much.
Within a minute or so the wind picked up and the lagoon became a bit choppy, and the lovely smooth reflections were gone. I drove home from there, feeling chilly and hungry. It was sad to drive past the yellow cottage (and the green one) and see an SUV parked outside, lights on inside, knowing that other people were enjoying my little place. But it wasn't mine, and back to the hostel I went. A German guy was cooking up some vegetables in the kitchen and when he finished I cooked myself some salmon and boiled potatoes, accompanied by a nice fresh salad. The man was sat at the table eating what looked like a Pot Noodle, but was also mashing vegetables in a big pot and I couldn't understand why. A little later on I saw his wife with a baby and realised that he was making baby food. It was a bit depressing to see him and his wife eating such rubbish food! I'd noticed a couple of guests in Reynivellir eating packet noodles too. And I thought making tuna pasta was lazy!
Good weather was forecast for the following day, so I knew I had to get myself up for sunrise, so I had an earlyish night (before midnight for a change). There was no northern lights forecast, which made the early night a bit easier.
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| My route on Day 5 - Google Maps doesn't have the road up to Heinabergsjökull on it |
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Day 4 - Exploring near Jökulsárlón
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Day 6 - Exploring near Stafafell
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