Iceland #17 - Day 1: Driving in the Rain to the Westfjords

Almost 17 years after my first trip to Iceland I was back, for my 17th trip! I will never tire of the place that has become my second (spiritual) home. The journey there was the usual - working from home, fish and chips in the Perfectionists' Café in Heathrow Terminal 2, a couple of hours on the Icelandair plane watching a movie, picking up duty free beer and the rental car on arrival, driving down the dreary airport road in the dark drizzle (hoping not to get caught speeding when I inadvertently crept over 90 kmph), before arriving at my friends' house for the night.

The first day was going to be a long one - driving all the way up to Djúpavík on the eastern side of the Westfjords, a distance of 315km. I'd stayed in the hotel there a couple of years earlier and decided it was time for a return trip, with a little more time available to explore the area. After catching up briefly with Sigrún and Johannes I set off towards Reykjavík, stopping to pick up some food, popping into the wonderful Orr to acquire some lovely new silver bits, before picking up a cinnamon roll for the journey from Brauð & Co (a new Icelandic tradition for me!). The drive out of the city is fairly tedious - with endless roundabouts as you head up past Mosfellsbær - but soon I was on my way north, heading towards the now-free tunnel under Hvalfjörður. I stopped to take the first Icelandic photos on my new Canon 5D mark IV. It was a moody day with drizzle on and off, but not too bad for driving. The landscape was mainly yellowy-brown, the summer greens already gone.

I didn't stop again until I'd passed Borgarnes and turned off the main road and onto the route 60, which heads over a pass and then down to Búðardalur. I'd stopped in the same spot on my return two years earlier and been captivated by the pointy Baula mountain. The peak was hidden by cloud, but instead I noticed how wonderfully the road snaked off into the distance.

I drove on, winding along and up the pass and down the other side, stopping again just before reaching Búðardalur. The view across Hvammsfjörður was moody and mysterious. It was colder here, with a bit of wind and nasty drizzle making any photography tricky.

I carried on through the small town, continuing on the route 60, which eventually headed inland again and across another pass. I stopped at a pretty roadside waterfall. Waterfalls were everywhere, trickling down every hillside - one benefit of endless rain (it had apparently been raining for days!). The hillsides were also covered with the autumnal leaves of ground-level shrubs, looking like dark red velvet carpets in places.

I didn't bother with the tripod, as the rain and wind meant any exposure longer than a split second would result in raindrops on the lens - the hoods were pretty useless at keeping the water away. Everything was covered in water! Driving conditions were horrible.

I came down a hill and crossed the bridge that marks the entrance to the Westfjords - it was good to be back! The weather seemed to get worse the further north I was, however, and visibility became limited in places. I'd stop from time to time to capture temporary waterfalls, misty mountains, and winding, pot-holey roads.

I didn't stop at Holmavík, reckoning that I had enough diesel to get me through the few days up in the Djúpavík area, but continued on, along some of my favourite roads in Iceland. The road on that stretch is just fantastic, hugging the coastline, with huge, dramatic mountains towering above you at every bend, waterfalls trickling in beautiful patterns, mist hugging the hillsides.

The rain ensured I carried on, keen to get to the hotel at around 5pm, as the annual exhibition at the Factory there was due to close at 6.30pm (they'd extended it a few weeks, so I was lucky that it would still be open).

Eventually the road leaves the coast and heads steeply uphill, across a high pass overlooking another fjord (Veiðileysa) before the final few miles to the hotel. I didn't stop on the pass, in spite of a massive impressive waterfall above the road, as visibility was otherwise poor up there, and the rain was heavier.

I arrived at the hotel at around 5pm; it was nice to be back here, greeted by the adorable dogs - Sóley the English bulldog and Freya the soppy sheepdog.

My room overlooked the fjord, as before, with a spectacular view over the broken pier. I took my bag up to the room but then headed straight out, on foot, to the Factory to catch the last hour of the exhibition. It was an interesting collection of contemporary art, installations and sculptures, from international artists. The factory is a perfect setting for this kind of art - grungy, run down, derelict, remote, damp.

I had a little wander outside too - I just love the dilapidated buildings everywhere, not to mention the massive shipwreck that I'd failed to notice on my previous visit!

I hadn't done a huge amount of walking during the day, given the poor weather, but since it had cleared a bit I decided to go for a little walk along the road from the hotel. It was still not great, but mist hung over the mountains on the far side of the fjord and it was rather beautiful and serene.

I wandered back to the hotel, with the fog now getting thicker and tumbling over the mountains in the distance. I took a few more shots from the rocks opposite the hotel, including a few with longer exposures to get intentional camera movement.

And then it was time for the divine lamb in the restaurant. I'd been told on my previous visit that the lamb was the tastiest in the whole of Iceland, as the local sheep ate not only grass but seaweed too. It was the most delicious, as before, washed down with an Einstok Toasted Porter (they sadly no longer had the Wee Heavy). The weather forecast for the following day was pretty much the same - fog, rain, miserable, so no need for an early alarm. It was great to be back.

Check out my blog from Day 2 - Exploring Around Djupavik in the Fog