I woke up to more drizzle, and no view of the mountains. Given the lack of visibility I decided to give Stokksnes a miss, again, and hoped it would be better on my return journey. I packed up and popped in to see Sigurdur and pay, and was delighted when he presented me with a bolt to try. Neither of us expected it to fit, but I nipped back to the car, and lo-and-behold it fit in the tripod - my moving panning tripod problem was over! I still felt sad to leave, but it certainly hadn't been my most memorable stay there (I've had a few - incredible storms, northern lights, blowing snow, disastrous fall, etc..).
My journey for the day was taking me to a place I hadn't stayed before which was extremely good value and looked very nicely located - just off the ring-road on the eastern/southern end of the 917 road, Litlabjarg guesthouse. Along the way I hoped to see a few new waterfalls and take a mountain road that I hadn't driven on before - the 939 (I do love a good mountain pass, even in the rain!).
I didn't stop at Hvalnes as the mountains were completed hidden by cloud, but continued on until a lay-by along the scary stretch with the steep scree slopes above. As usual there were the odd chunks of rock lying in the road from tiny landslides. It was particularly worrying driving along that section after or during rain!
I got past it safely and breathed the usual sigh of relief. I don't get as nervous as I used to, but it's still a bit pulse-rate-increasing for a few minutes of driving. My first stop was at a small waterfall set back from the road, called Barkinafoss. I got out and had a little wander and took a few photos, the drizzle falling gently.
I continued on, feeling excited that I might finally get to see the incredible basalt column canyon at Stuðlagil that day, which annoyingly I hadn't known about on my trip to the east/north-east back in September 2016 (no-one else really knew about it then either). It was still a way away, and whether I visited that day or the next depended on the weather and how much energy I had for the 5km-each-way hike to see it from the better side.
My next stop was at a small beach just past Djúpivogur, near the Teigarhorn monument, where I'd taken a few shots of a ruined boat the one time I'd driven that route (March 2014). Sadly the nice pointy mountain to the north was shrouded with low cloud (what a surprise), but I had a nice wander along the beach to the boat anyway.
It was 11am by the time I left the beach and headed on my journey east, driving alongside Berufjörður. Before the turn-off up the mountain pass I noticed another left-hand turn towards Fossadalur, which I assumed meant waterfall valley, so I decided to go and investigate. I passed a couple of waterfalls in the distance, but it wasn't the easiest place to spot them or access them. I got past a youth hostel, had a little wander, couldn't see much as there was lots of private farmland, and then turned around again and drove back down the hill. I stopped before reaching the main road again and went for another little walk through a little pine forest to a waterfall. There were mushrooms, wet cotton grass, coloured heather and leaves, and more berries. The drizzle was thankfully laying off me for a change.
There's a waterfall just at the top of the first bend on the road, but I missed stopping in both directions - one to explore next time. Instead I continued on a short way and soon the road became the 939 and off I climbed up steep switchbacks and blindhæds towards the mist. After a few minutes I reached a car park to the left and pulled over, and slicing through the valley ahead of me was the magnificent Folaldafoss. The geology in the vicinity was impressive - with massive rocky layered shelves (which I've since learned is called trap terrain).
I wandered down towards the waterfall, armed with tripod, but the wind had picked up and it started to rain. At least I could tighten my tripod properly (although it did un-tighten when I walked with it, so needed to tighten it before each use). I took a couple more shots, enjoying the trap terrains, and then headed back to the car, where I sat and ate my cheese sandwich, the rain now coming down properly.
I continued on my way, up more fantastically winding, hilly switchbacks, the road disappearing in front of me beneath low cloud. Unfortunately the road was in the low cloud for a good few miles while I crossed the top of the pass, which was a shame, as I'm sure the scenery must have been spectacular! I could see more waterfalls around each corner in the distance, but the conditions were certainly not appropriate for stopping! I passed a few cars, but it wasn't exactly busy; not a place you'd want to break down or have brake failure!
The road eventually started descending out of the cloud and visibility was improved again as I turned on to the 95 and headed downhill towards Lagarfljót and Egilsstaðir. I was tempted to turn left towards Litlanesfoss and Hengifoss, but the canyon was beckoning me, and I'd visited them a couple of times on my previous trip. Instead I reached the ring-road, drove straight through the town, and onwards, across the big bridge between the turn-offs to the 925 and 917 roads. Again I thought about stopping when I reached Ryjúkandi-Eystri, as the weather had improved a bit and it looked quite lovely, but I had to get to that canyon! On my previous visit to the area I'd actually taken the side road (the 923) for a short while, but even 4 years ago the canyon was mostly unknown (having only been discovered after the river was dammed further up at Kárahnjúkavirkjun in 2008), revealing the magnificent basalt columns (previously I guess the river came up far higher and most of the columns were submerged). Apparently I was visiting at the exact right time of year on this occasion - with the water at its most turquoise (later on the reservoirs fill up and the water that flows into the river is more milky, brown glacial water. So even if I had gone in September 2016 it wouldn't have been so amazing.
I took the gravel road that leads down along the river, having to overtake a few very slow cars on my way (there are plenty of very inexperienced drivers that drive at literally 20-30km per hour on these roads). There was a worrying amount of traffic, but I was expecting this as I'd read online a few days earlier that it was really busy there, plus it was the holiday weekend. I decided to visit the north/west side first, which requires a longer drive, but a lower amount of walking, although it does involve a lot of steps. I stopped along the way when I got a great view of the Stuðlafoss waterfall which is a couple of km before the canyon. The view from that side was fantastic, as you're above it, and get a superb view of the basalt columns, hinting at the treat that awaits you a little further on!
I drove the last few km, parked up, and was rather aghast at the number of cars in the car-park. The first glimpse of the canyon from that side is only really possible once you start descending a big, ugly metal staircase that has recently been added on that side. The canyon started to come into view, with basalt columns just everywhere, in every direction, and the most incredible fast-flowing, turquoise river below. I'd seen many photos of the place, but most seemed to have only one or two views, so I had no real concept of how big it was - it is huge! Or how incredible it was - it is incredible! Or how turquoise it was - it was so turquoise! The sky was cloudy and dull, but still the water glowed an unbelievable colour. The basalt columns must go on for 300-400 metres I think. I walked onto the platform and took a few photos without the tripod - it wasn't an easy place to set the tripod down. This was my first view, and they only got better!
Almost immediately, however, I heard the dreaded whine of a drone, which instantly ruined the experience for me, and I muttered something to that effect to the drone's owners as I tried to get away from it. I really do hate the noise beyond reasonableness; drones just put me in the foulest of moods! I took more photos, trying to recapture the glory and ignore the whine. The other side was absolutely teeming with people.
The canyon was spectacular from that side, but it's far more difficult to see the canyon properly from there. I took a few photos - playing around with the polarising filter in order to get the water at its most turquoise and non-reflective - before heading back up the endless stairs to the car, and then driving back the 5km to the other car-park. I hadn't driven all that far, but felt pretty exhausted, especially knowing that I had 10km round-trip ahead of me, lugging my heavy gear. The south/east side car-park was even busier, but I managed to find a spot, got myself geared up, and headed off across the bridge to start my long walk there. It was 2.45pm when I set off, and fortunately the biggest number of people were on their way back as I approached. It's a nice walk, with only a couple of gentle uphill sections, and within about half an hour I had reached the waterfall again, taking a few hand-held photos from beneath it.
I just wanted to get to the canyon, so hurried on, determined to get there in less than an hour. After 50 minutes from leaving the car I reached the eastern end of the canyon and there my adventure really began. It's a pretty overwhelming place for a photographer for the first time, with so many compositional options. I didn't know what to do with myself! I took lots of photos from different angles, clambering down the banks to explore among the basalt columns themselves, climbing up a few, doing some long exposure shots to get the frothy water smooth and pretty. By the time I left, two and a half hours later, I had taken just over 300 photos. All different, many extremely cool. Here's a selection of the wondrous place. I was in columnar basalt hexagonal heaven!
It was just after six pm when I dragged myself away, my shoulders aching like crazy from carrying the heavy camera and lenses, plus tripod, and I felt hungry and exhausted. I stopped at the waterfall and set the tripod up, trying to make the most of my time there - who knows when I'd be back, after all.
I drove back up to the ring-road, and headed east, towards my home for the night. I suddenly got a bit panicked as I hadn't confirmed exactly where the guesthouse was, and my phone battery was about to die (and the charging cable in the car wasn't working and I couldn't easily find the other!). Fortunately my memory was correct, and I had enough juice in the phone left to have a quick check on a map - it was down the 917. I arrived and a German guy who was staying there greeted me, before the lovely owner Elisa showed up a few minutes later. It's a great little guesthouse, in the middle of nowhere, with nice views of the mountains to the south, and old farm buildings everywhere. I cooked myself some tuna pasta and chatted to a couple of German women travelling with three kids, sharing stories of the places visited nearby.
And then it was to my room to pore through the hundreds of photos taken during the day, posting one of my favourite ones online for everyone else to enjoy. The weather forecast for the following day was mixed but mainly dry, so I spent ages wondering about where to go - situated where I was I could have driven all the way up to Dettifoss, or out to one of the eastern fjords, or perhaps back to Stuðlagil. Lots of wonderful options to look forward to.
Click here for my blog from Day 8 - A Wet Day Around Stafafell
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