Iceland #19 - Day 7: Rainy Drive to Stafafell

Day six was a complete write-off. I slept in late, woke up feeling quite rough - a little bit of a raised temperature, slightly groggy and headachey and tired. I had the usual coronavirus vs Garun hangover question, but think it was the beer - that stuff just doesn't agree with me any more. I didn't get the DSLR out once, or leave the cabin except to drive around the headland to go into Vík to try the burger at the Smiðjan Brugghús (which was delicious, as were the chips!). I looked out of the window often during the day, and could basically see nothing but rain and the wind blowing the grasses nearby. The cabin can be pretty noisy with wind bashing it, but it's nice and cosy, so a good place to hunker down and wait out the storm. Cars came and went, and I could see people battling the wind as they headed down to the beach. The benefit of having been to this spot on numerous occasions is that I didn't feel compelled to go and see it or take any photos, which would've been pointless and miserable.

So yes, my first ever day in Iceland where I didn't take a single photo (except for one on the iPhone of the burger!). It was so frustrating, as this was supposed to be my day to explore and hike up at Þakgil, a short drive away. Oh well, that is life.

Day seven was better, although it was still windy and rainy when I woke up (so no sunrise trip down to the beach either). I felt much better - no more headache, temperature normal, so didn't feel as if I had the 'rona! It was pretty foggy as I left, stopping for a quick chat with Raggi before heading off. In the day and a half that I'd been there the covid-19 situation had worsened, and they were about to bring in a new regulation whereby tourists visiting from most countries would be required to have a second test, 5 days after their first. It didn't apply to those - like me - who were already there, which was handy, as I didn't want to have to drive out of my way for a second test.

I set off in the drizzle, barely able to see the hillsides of Reynisfjall. When you know how stunning a landscape is it can be infuriating to see it covered up. As I turned right onto the pass around towards Vík there was a slight rise in the clouds. I noticed a motorcyclist that had come off the road, but wasn't hurt - not great driving conditions. I stopped a little further around the big bend to take a couple of shots of the mysterious looking landscape. It was miserable and wet, but atmospheric.

My plan for the day was to drive to Stafafell, stopping for some more food in Höfn, with stops at Lómagnúpur and Jökulsárlón along the way. I drove straight through Vík which seems to have more and more new buildings up on every visit (and no doubt some of the owners will sadly now be bankrupt...). I passed the turn-off up to Þakgil, the road heading off into the fog and murk. I passed the turn-off down to Hjörleifshöfði - could barely see the inselberg in the distance. I drove on and didn't stop again until I reached Foss á Siðu, where I usually stop for a quick snap.

It wasn't too windy, so the waterfall wasn't blowing sideways or upwards, as I've seen it before, but it was still pretty unpleasant with constant drizzle. I next stopped at a little parking area not far from the Fosshotel Núpar, thankful that there was a portaloo there (I suffer so much with a weak bladder, and much of my trips are spent trying to find somewhere to pee!!). The landscape there was pretty too.

I stopped again a little further down the road, as I noticed a couple of upward waterfalls above the turf-roofed houses as Núpsstaður.

Next stop was a brief one at Lómagnúpur, where the cloud had lifted a tiny bit for me, and I was almost able to make out the top. Almost.

To the east I noticed that there was a little break in the cloud cover, and I could just make out a tiny patch of sunshine on a distant glacier - it gave me a little hope for some better weather in my future!

As I got back into the car I noticed that I still had the key to the cottage at Reynisfjara - not the first time I've forgotten to give a door key back, and won't be the last. I was far too far away from there now to turn back, so I sent Raggi an email apologising and promising to pop it back on my return journey the following week. I hoped that he had a spare (he must do!).

I drove on, and stopped at one of the car-parks along the side of the road on the approach to Skaftafell, as there's wonderful views of various glaciers and mountains. I could see both Svínafellsjökull and Skaftafellsjökull; both looking wonderful. With the long lens I was even able to capture some of the detail of the craggy hillsides and glacial ice from there.

I continued on, glad to have some long-distance visibility and views of peaks, and took the left turn towards Svínafellsjökull, which I only visit every few years. I hadn't been since my birthday in Feb 2018, when it had been extremely glassy and slippery. I had thought of hiking around the moraine to the south side, but I could hear some noisy people along there and that put me off. Instead I just walked through the gate and hiked along the path overlooking the edge of the glacier. I was horrified to notice how much it had receded since my first visits. I remembered seeing a couple of guys hiking on the ice in the distance and then below me - now there was no way that you could hike to this side, as the ice no longer reached the side beneath me. I took a few shots of the dirty ice in the distance with the long lens, with no way to understand the size or scale, and then headed back to the car, feeling a little sad.

As I reached the car there were some wonderful undulating clouds overhead to the south-east; I love how quickly the sky changes in Iceland!

I stopped at the petrol station nearby, not having the usual burger on this occasion, since I'd had one the previous night, and I still had enough bread and cheese for my packed lunch instead. I tried to fill the car up, but for some reason it wouldn't allow me to put in enough to fill it up. I stupidly put my credit card back in my trouser pocket on my leg, instead of in the phone wallet (where it usually lived), being rather flustered by the whole not filling up experience, and off I went, next stop Jökulsárlón (yay!!).

As I approached my beloved Jökulsárlón the weather had deteriorated again, and was now raining again, with low cloud obscuring any mountains - wish it wasn't quite that changeable! I crossed the suspension bridge and drove down into the east car-park, got geared up, and headed down to the beach. The rain seemed to be coming in every direction, so it wasn't possible to just take shots away from the rain, which is usually the solution to shooting in crappy weather there! There weren't a huge number of icebergs on the beach, but generally I prefer it that way, so that I can concentrate on one or a group against the black sand and white waves. I wasn't very happy with either the conditions or compositional options, so I took a handful of shots before heading up to the lagoon on foot, under the bridge (I was actually more pleased when I reviewed and processed a couple than I initially thought!).

The lagoon was also murky and the drizzle wasn't letting up. I was surprised to see that the beach along the edge of the water was no longer there - the water level was obviously about a metre higher than it is in winter (or autumn, for that matter). As a result the options were to walk along the ridges overlooking the lagoon. There was a real mish-mash of icebergs in the lagoon, and I couldn't even see the glacier in the distance as visibility was so poor. There were some blue icebergs but my favourite was one that was rather dirty and looked like a bar of Toblerone, with jagged chunks.

I wandered back to the car, stopping to take one last shot with my iPhone. 

I got back to the car, and for some reason noticed that I didn't have my credit card. I checked every pocket about 5 times, and inside the car, under all the seats, etc... I walked back up to the spot where I'd taken the iPhone shot, as that was the first time I'd taken my phone out since the petrol station, hoping that maybe it had fallen out there. No sign of it anywhere. I got back to the car, checked inside the car yet again, and then phoned the petrol station to see if anyone had handed it in: definitely no sign of it anywhere. So I sat in the car, at the edge of Jökulsárlón beach, cancelling my nice credit card with no foreign transaction fees - grrrr! At least I had a couple of other cards, so wasn't stuck (always carry more than one!!).

I drove off, unbelievably annoyed with myself for being so careless, and headed towards Höfn, passing lots of favourite places (the tree line, the wonky tree) but not stopping until I got to the supermarket in the town centre. The new rules in place didn't make a great deal of difference - just had to use hand sanitiser on arrival at the shop. I know my way around the supermarket now, and picked up some salmon fillets, fresh salad leaves, tomatoes and avocados, and then off to the dairy section for some fresh milk and Skyr for cereal. And then I was back off in the car, and on the last bit of the journey towards my yellow cottage, my home away from home. As I left Höfn I noticed an old man with a sheepdog, who was dragging the man forward excitedly. I soon realised why - there was a puddle and as soon as the dog reached it he went mad, jumping around in the water like a puppy. It was an adorable sight; I smiled as I drove past, the man smiled back. I don't think this was the first time the dog had enjoyed such a simple, fun pleasure.

I continued on, with the weather still dire, with no visibility at all - no point making a detour to Stokksnes, as I wouldn't see a thing. I hoped that maybe coming out of the tunnel I'd suddenly be greeted to clearer skies, but alas no, still rubbish! 

I arrived at Stafafell and was greeted by Sigurdur and we chatted briefly about "the situation". He hadn't bothered to open the hostel this year, but had still had plenty of business in the cottages, which I was pleased to hear. I got to the cottage and took a shot on the iPhone to show how miserable the weather was before settling in and making myself some tea.

One benefit of travelling to Iceland in the summer is that the days are long, which gives you more opportunity to for the weather to change during the day. This, at least, is the hope on days like these! Sadly on this particular day the drizzle was set in, so I just had to lump it. The other benefit is that even if the weather's rubbish, there are still more hours of daylight in the day, so at 7pm off I went to Skútafoss, a little waterfall nearby that I've visited on a few occasions. On the way there, I noticed a police car parked at the Hrafnavellir guesthouse, which was strange - I'd never seen a police car on the stretch of road east of Höfn. I got to the waterfall and hiked up there, hoping that given that there was a cave at least I'd get some shots without having rain on the lens after every shot. The water was raging - far heavier than I'd seen this waterfall before. The turquoise stream of the waterfall and the pool into which it falls was still there. Above I could see little trickles of waterfalls coming out from the foggy hills.

I had to clamber over a few rocks to get into the cave, whereas usually the water level is lower and there's no barrier. I felt nervous that the water might be rising even higher, so kept a close eye on it while I was in there. It's a tricky spot to take photographs from, and when I set my tripod up I realised that the knob that tightened the panning mechanism had fallen off. This had happened in Costa Rica too, but I'd seen it lying by the car and tragedy was narrowly avoided. Not so lucky this time - the knob was most likely long gone (and I'd already checked under the car seats for the credit card and nothing had appeared). I could still use the tripod, just had to hold it steady, which kind of defeats the purpose of a tripod! 

After awkwardly trying a few shots in the cave I then headed up onto the rocks above, where I hadn't thought to photograph before. It was great to get a different perspective, but the rain was problematic, so I didn't last long.

The rain began to get heavier, so I called it a day, walking back down to the car. On the drive home I was interested to see that the police car was now in a lay-by near the guesthouse, waiting to nab speeding drivers going past. Fortunately I was driving less than 90kmph as it was so wet and miserable, but often I do go a little over that. There were so few tourists or locals on the road it seemed a little odd for them to be doing it, but then the penalties are quite good, so maybe it's worth it for a little extra police revenue...

I got back home and diced up and fried a chunk of the salmon and served it with salad and washed it down with two divine sour beers (especially the Dr. Schepsky's Passion Fruit Sour - divine!). 

The forecast for the following day was also poor, with more rain, or at least cloud cover all day. It wasn't windy at least, but still annoying. I had a full day there, so hoped to visit Stokksnes, Hvalnes and maybe Skútafoss again if the weather improved. I was also looking forward to the lovely swan lake, Lónsfjörður, although in this weather it was unlikely to be as amazing as usual.

Click here for my blog from Day 5 - Red Volcano and Dark Canyon
Click here for my blog from Day 8 - A Wet Day Around Stafafell

Iceland #19 - Day 5: Red Volcano & Dark Canyon

My plan for the morning was to head up Eldfell - the slightly lower of the two red volcanoes that lie on Heimaey's eastern side. Eldfell erupted in January 1973, resulting in the addition of just over two square kilometres of land being created. I'd hiked across the lava fields and up the hill (it's not really a mountain) from the town with my husband on our 2009 visit, and hoped to do something similar.

I packed up and headed out in the car towards the base. I wasn't sure where to park, so tried a couple of places - the first right next to town, and the second just outside - checking the location on Google Maps and realising that the trailhead was still miles away. I ended up driving to the trailhead car-park, which actually gave me a very short walk up the side of the volcano - not quite the hike I'd envisaged. Oh well, it meant that I could definitely make the earlier ferry, giving me more time back on the mainland. The weather was a little grey, with the usual spots of brightness over the sea in the distance.

It's an incredible volcano, with some wonderful crusty formations at the top of the crater, mostly red but with some yellow too. As I got to the summit (it's only 205m high, and I think I must have started at about 100m!) the sun came out, intensifying the crazy colours.

From the top I watched a container ship heading east towards Dyrhólaey - it was clear enough in the distance to see the arch there, where I'd be a few hours later.

I wandered down eventually, stopping to take a few more shots along the crater rim, including some of some people hiking and on quad bikes down in the weird volcanic landscape below. The sun was even more intense on the red lava hillside now.

I got back to the car, took a few photos of some lovely lupins, and then headed down towards the port. I drove down to the ferry terminal and asked if I could change my ticket to the earlier ferry, which again was no problem (and free!).

I still had a little time to kill, so I drove back out of town again and stopped at the car-park opposite Stafkirkjan, a black-painted wooden church and house sitting at the entrance to the harbour. I took a few photos and had a wander to the water's edge and watched the ferry come in.

I drove back to the ferry and pulled up into the queue, and soon I was on, this time fortuitously right at the front of the line so I'd be first off the ferry at Landeyjahöfn. I headed up to the deck to enjoy the view for the journey, armed with the camera kit. It was still stunning weather as we sailed out of Heimaey, but I could just see that the weather on the mainland in the distance was anything but lovely - dark clouds and visible rain hung over the hills near the coast. 

We sailed past the two islands of Elliðæy and Bjarnarey, accompanied by fulmars, gracefully skimming the still surface of the sea. The sun glistened on the water; it was blissful.

As we got further away from Heimaey the weather ahead seemed to worsen - it didn't bode well for my extra hours exploring the south coast! It was quite beautiful from a distance though.

It didn't look quite so bad a little further west, where I planned to go first, so I felt a little better about that.

As we approached Landeyjahöfn we were accompanied by even more birds - there were lots of puffins sitting on the water (which I realised later from cropping in close on photos were holding fish in their beaks), as well as some gannets flying around and doing their amazing dives. As the boat got closer to the puffins they would do the most ridiculous running-across-the-water attempt to fly and sometimes would just dive under the water after failing to take off.

As we turned into the port we passed some eider ducks and arctic terns were flying around. I was the first car off the ferry, but stopped just outside the exit to take a picture of the terns and their massive gravel nest. Immediately - even though I was quite far away - they approached me and started flying towards my head. I took a few photos of them flitting around in the nearby grasses using the long lens, before heading on my way.

My next stop was a second attempt at visiting Gluggafoss, which wasn't too far away. The road back to the ring-road from the ferry port is a nice quick one, but obviously there was a lot of traffic as I'd missed my opportunity of being first off since I'd stopped to watch the birds. I took a left turn and then soon there was a right turn towards Múlakot, along the 250 gravel road. As soon as I was on the gravel the car beeping noise started again, that I'd heard when I'd disembarked a few days earlier in Heimaey. The orange warning light was still on, but no new light had come on to accompany this beeping. I got worried that my car was a dud, but continued. It wasn't the most interesting of roads, except for a small hill on the right about half way along. A little further on I noticed a young Asian couple standing at the side of the road, and their white non-SUV car was a few feet away from the road in the lupins and grasses, clearly stuck. It was odd, because there were no obvious tracks of how the car had got there. They weren't trying to flag me down, so I assumed help was already on the way.

At the end of the road I turned left onto a tarmac road (the beeping stopped - yay!) and soon I was at Gluggafoss, aka Merkjárfoss. It's not the most spectacular of waterfalls, but made for a nice detour, and there were only a couple of other cars there when I rocked up. The rain was fortunately in the distance still, so I was able to go on a little hike up the hill to the right of the falls without worrying about getting wet, after taking a couple on the tripod from the bottom. 

The views above the falls were even more impressive than the bottom falls, I thought, but I couldn't get a spot where it was safe to set up my tripod, so I just took a few handheld with the ISO ramped up. The views back south were pretty nice too - still able to see all the way to Vestmannaeyjar. The hillsides were full of pretty yellow and white wildflowers.

The Icelandic word "glugga" means windows, apparently, so it's named after the holes in the rocks that the water falls through. It would have been nice to go a little further but I wanted to do a bit more exploring elsewhere, so headed back down and across the bridge to get a little closer to the main falls beneath the windows.

I was glad that the road closure on my way to Vestmannaejyar had meant that I hadn't visited on that day, as it would have been very rushed. I still didn't spend long there, but long enough to enjoy it, which wouldn't have been so easy in the half an hour I'd planned for. I wandered back to the car, enjoying the wildflowers along the river banks. An old man stood by the base of the lowest falls and smiled at me as I took photos of the flowers.

I drove back down the gravel road and the beeping didn't start again, so I felt a bit more reassured that the car would be okay. I passed the Asian couple, still waiting for someone to come and rescue their car from the ditch. I had a couple of options - head on towards Dyrhólaey, or go and explore a new place, recommended by Sigrún, as they'd visited a couple of days earlier. When I got to the turn-off up towards Nauthúsagil I was still not sure what to do, as I felt a bit weary, but took the turn anyway. And I was very glad I did. 

The canyon is situated just off the gravel road leading up to Þorsmörk, before it turns into an F-road (and before the dangerous river crossings). I stopped along the way to capture the sweet little hill on the opposite side of the Markarfljót river, which I'd just driven past earlier (I cannot find a name for it on any map - UPDATE! - it's called Dímon!). Oh how I love Iceland's river braids!

Soon I was at the entrance to the canyon, where a few other cars were parked. Nauthúsagil is a small wooded canyon, which you wouldn't know was there unless someone pointed it out. The canyon follows a little river and soon you're surrounded by towering cliffs, some with wet, bare black volcanic rock, others covered by dripping bright green moss. 

There is a point at which you need to first cross the river - hopping across a couple of large stones - and then haul yourself along and up a short section by grabbing onto chains. There were a few people there, so short human traffic jams built up. It reminded me of the wonderful Narrows hike I'd done a few years earlier in Zion National Park - another hike in a narrow canyon, although that one you spend a good deal of time wading through the river.

I didn't find it too hard, but had to put my camera away and it was still a little awkward holding the tripod too. A little further on I reached the end, where there is a very pretty waterfall, Gljúfurfoss. I had a minute or so to myself so was able to set the tripod up and take a couple of long exposures. Like in most canyons the photography was challenging, to say the least! The sky above was very bright, the water obviously white, the green leaves and moss were extremely bright, and the canyon walls were black. 

Some more people arrived so I headed back down towards the little waterfall in the middle. I got a couple of brief opportunities to take pictures without people in them before the next lot arrived! It was very popular with Icelandic families; it was lovely to actually see Icelanders on holiday - something I've never seen on previous visits.

The crowds seemed to be getting heavier, so I took a last few tripod shots facing downstream and then headed out, passing some pretty purple flowers and bright green leaves on my way.

Not far from the canyon I passed a very pretty little church sitting a little way back from the road, which I hadn't noticed on my up there. There are lots of pretty churches in Iceland - everywhere! - but I particularly liked the shape of this one, called Stóra-Dalskirkja.

The rain I'd seen in the distance seemed to have moved east, so I managed to avoid any rain the whole day. I drove back down to the ring-road, then turned left to continue my journey, next stop Dyrhólaey. I didn't stop at the usual spot by the stupid bra fence to see the rocks - the tide was quite high and light poor, so onwards I drove. It was nice to be back on the familiar road again, passing Skógafoss, the car-park for the plane wreck, Pétursey, the Farmhouse Lodge where I'd stayed a couple of times before. I eventually stopped in a lay-by when I got a nice glimpse of the Solheimjökull glacier spilling over the green hills to the north.

I continued on and took the right hand turn down to Dyrhólaey, where they've widened the intersection so it's not as dangerous any more. I decided to drive up the hairpin bends up to the lighthouse, park there and then do a little hike down to the other overlook. The cloud was coming and going and patches of bright sunlight occasionally appeared briefly over a tiny spot in the landscape in the distance. I adore the view of the white waves lapping against the black sand going off into the distance in the west. Using a long lens (and zooming in on the laptop) you can actually see the plane wreck as a tiny white dot on the black sand.

I stopped overlooking the arch and stacks and then continued on along the path down the hill to the viewpoint overlooking the stack on the beach. I noticed a few puffins along the clifftops, but wasn't able to get close as the area is protected. The sea was unbelievably calm, nothing like in the winter when the stacks are relentlessly battered by massive crashing waves.

As I wandered down the hill the sun began to come out more in the distance, first with patches on the hills behind Reynisfjall, and eventually on the landscape in front of me. It was quite striking, and worthy of getting the wide angle lens on the camera for once.

I reached the other headland and had a little wander around. There were also some puffins nesting along the clifftop there, again difficult to see. The beaches were all closed off, and I remembered my first visit there, watching two guys up close to the huge waves, then running as fast as they could to avoid being caught.

As well as many puffins flitting about the air was also full of gannets just off the coast, diving into the sea dramatically. I love the view of the stack from that point, although there's more areas roped off now, so more limited in the angles of shots these days. Fair enough; better to protect the cliffs than get a perfect shot... The light was constantly changing, and I played around with the polarising filter to get different effects on the water.

I walked back up the hill, passing a couple of whimbrels, as well as the puffins on the cliff and the gannets manically diving.

I took a few more shots of the view from the top before heading off; the light on the water towards Vestmannaeyjar was magical.

Last stop for the night was Reynisfjara, back in my tiny little cabin next to the beach. I nipped in to check in at the farmhouse and had a chat with Raggi the owner. He told me that the Covid-19 cases had increased slightly and as a result they were bringing in a few new rules - masks on public transport (including the ferries) and more social distancing measures. He told me how some of his neighbours in the area were suffering massively, having taken massive mortgages to build new tourist infrastructure (hotels, guesthouses, cabins), but had no safeguards or fallbacks now that their tourism had fallen off a cliff. Eventually I headed down the hill to the cabin; it's always a real pleasure to come back to places I love - it really felt like coming home! I wandered down onto the beach, but the light was fading quickly with no colours to speak of other than a tiny glimpse of orange to the west, just visible under the clouds that nearly covered the whole sky. It was nice to see the wonderful basalt columns again, and this time with puffins above them.

I didn't stay out long, so retired to the cabin and made myself some tuna pasta and drank one of the two Garun beers that I had left over from my last trip. It didn't give me an instant headache this time, which was good. I spent the evening reviewing the photos from the day, listening to the wind increasing outside. The forecast for the following day was utterly dreadful, with really heavy winds and rain all day, but not even the consolation of decent waves, as the wind was coming from the north. At least I'd got the earlier ferry and had made the most of today.

Click here for my blog from Day 4: Exploring Vestmannaeyjar

Click here for my blog from Day 7: Rainy Drive to Stafafell