Iceland #19 - Day 9: Finally to the Incredible Stuðagil!

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 

Iceland #13 - Day 6: Driving back to Keflavík

My introduction to the wonderful remote Westfjords was coming to an end, and today I had to drive all the way back down to the south-west, as far as Keflavík. There the next part of my adventure would begin - the weekend playing tour-guide with friends, again. In my little planning spreadsheet (I have one for every trip with all sorts of details on accommodation, things to see, prices, sunrise/sunset times and places, etc...) all I had planned for the day was "drive straight back to Keflavík without stopping!" As it was, time wouldn't be that rushed, as it's only a 350km or so drive and my friend wasn't arriving until the last plane, so I could actually get to the hotel at midnight, for all it mattered. Still quite a lot of driving though.

I did, however, have a couple of things I wanted to do along the way. One was to take the tour of the herring factory in Djúpavík, and the other was to visit a rather obscure and little-known peninsula to see some basalt columns a bit further south. The light was quite nice when I got up at around 8am so I took a couple of lazy shots from my window, before having the same Skyr and granola breakfast as the previous day (blueberry flavour this time, which I can now buy in my local Waitrose back home, so not quite as special!).

I showered, packed up my stuff (always hate that part) and then asked at reception about the tours. It was run by the hotel, so added to the bill, which made things easier. The tour started at 10am, and was being given by Sarah, the young American woman I'd chatter to the previous night. I had a little wander around the outside of the factory before meeting up with a small group for the tour.

We were led inside and Sarah locked us in, turned on the lights and then gave us a bit of historic information about the place. We wandered through each room, looking at pictures, rusting pieces of machinery, crumbling plaster, algae-covered walls and salt stalactites.

The factory had been built in 1934 to take advantage of the massive herring population and deep port there (that's what Djúpavík means), in order to produce herring oil and herring meal. The women worked outside cleaning the herrings on long conveyor belts, and the men worked inside. There are various ovens and storage containers in various stages of disrepair from the production days, which ended in 1954, when herring stocks were depleted. The factory wasn't stripped, as the owner had hoped to return when the fish did. They didn't, and he didn't, and instead it was sold to the current owners, who opened the hotel in 1985 in the old women's quarters. It was fascinating to think of all of these young Icelanders up in this remote part of the world, working in the harsh weather day in, day out.

Sarah told us that Sigur Rós had also played there, in one of the large storage rooms at the back, on the same tour as when they'd played at Selárdalur. Another epic location, which would have been incredible to experience.

The last place on the tour was the longest room I think I've ever been in - which was my favourite. I'd just missed their annual art exhibition, but a few photographs still hung on the walls of this room, and a sofa sat near one end, for people to rest and take in the art. At one end there was some graffiti in some wood - amazing to think that workers had signed their names there almost 70 years earlier. Sometimes the hotel gets elderly visitors from people who'd worked there themselves, or were the children of those who had - it had definitely been quite a place in its heyday.

That was the end of the tour, and I was briefly disappointed as we hadn't been inside the oil tank, which I'd seen pictures of, that looked extremely cool. Sarah said that we could visit that on our own, though, and showed us to the entrance. I was quite relieved!

We all looked at each other and laughed, as we realised that we had to climb through a rusty hole to get in! The others in the group all managed to climb in, and I waited until they'd gone until I attempted it, laden with my tripod and camera gear. The hole was probably about 70cm diameter, so plenty of room, but also about 50 cm long, so it was quite a feat to climb through! I poked the tripod through first and then climbed through. Once inside it was just incredible, and I was glad I had it to myself. I wandered around the outside of the outermost copper coil and stopped to take a few different shots. It was one of my favourite sights in the Westfjords - I could've spent all day there! Sarah thought that Sigur Rós had also played there, and I found evidence on YouTube - I wondered if they climbed through the hole or up the metal footholds that led to a hole in the top that provided the light...

I dragged myself away - the massive drive awaiting me - stopping to marvel at the enormous structure.

Before I left I wanted to get a photo of the lovely, soft, affectionate Freya, who made me miss my little sick Henry back at home. She wasn't really playing ball, avoiding the camera, as often dogs do! 

I got into the car, but realised that she was sitting right in front, so I had to get out to try to shoo her away. As I did so I noticed her crouch suddenly beside my passenger door, and then she suddenly darted forward and pounced as a car came past. The driver seemed a bit shocked, but I'd seen it before on my second ever trip to Iceland. Now it just seems like normal Icelandic sheepdog behaviour. I got a quick shot of Soley, who just stood around, not chasing cars.

I was sad to leave little Djúpavík - I was rather smitten with the hotel, its inhabitants and its surrounds.

iPhoneSE shot

It was already midday - so much for the plan to make a swift journey back to the airport. The weather had brightened up a little, with tiny glimpses of blue sky as I embarked on my long drive south. First stop was the beautiful mountain pass, where I stopped to capture some beautiful saxifrage (I think) flowers overlooking the Veiðileysa fjord below.

The sun came out a little later on, and I stopped to capture a few lovely things: a house that I could see myself enjoying, a pretty waterfall, some finger-like clouds.

Eventually I passed the turn-off to Drangsnes, from where I'd come, and was on a newly-surfaced road to cut across the peninsula. It was a lovely road, and soon I came out to the main road, where there were no signs or markings - no wonder I'd missed the turn-off on the way!

Next stop was to get some petrol and clean the car at Hólmavik. Again, quite an effort to scrub away at the few days of dirt. I took a couple of before and after photos on the iPhone. I had a visible number plate again!

* iPhoneSE shot

*iPhoneSE shot

Next stop was the obligatory grill bar burger for lunch - what I would have eaten had I made the detour on the way. It wasn't as good as the one at Skaftafell, but not bad.

iPhoneSE shot

I didn't drive into town as I wanted to head on, but I'm not sure there's a great deal there (apart from the Icelandic Sorcery & Witchcraft Museum, which probably would've been quite good - but I'd already done one museum that day). The road soon left the coastline and headed across a low pass, coming down the other side to views south towards the last peninsula of the Westfjords before you reach Búðardalur. The area was mostly farmland, with huge numbers of plastic-wrapped hay-bales visible everywhere I looked. Soon I came to a right-hand turn that would take me back to Patreksfjörður if I continued. Instead I drove for about 12km, weird-shaped mountains surrounding me, before I came to a left-hand turn taking me onto the Borgarland peninsula, my next destination. The road wound around through more farmland until eventually I came to the end and had to park. From there, it was a thirty or so minute walk along mainly beach to reach Bjartmarsstein, a massive volcanic plug sitting at the end of the peninsula, covered in basalt columns! I passed a couple of rather macabre fallen scarecrows - dressed in astronauts outfits and wellies, the torn material blowing around in the wind.

*iPhoneSE shot

Before reaching the main plug I passed smaller basalt column walls along the beach. The surrounding scenery was also stunning, with some rhyolitic hillsides in the distance. If only that sun would stay out! The beach was littered with seaweed, but thankfully not the nasty flies that I'd encountered the previous day.

Eventually I turned around a little headland to finally see the main attraction - Bjartmarsstein, which I'd only discovered by googling basalt columns in the area (thanks to Guide to Iceland!) and fortunately it wasn't far out of my way. The light was pretty poor, but I could still see the reddish basalt columns lining the base of the big rock, like a pleated skirt.

I hurried along the beach, only stopping to take a photo of a rather sad dead sheep (sorry!), caught in the seaweed (I hope it didn't meet its death being tangled up in it).

I spent the next half hour at the foot of the cliff, walking around the base of it, clambering over some columns as the beach disappeared on the far side. I loved the patterns and shapes, the swirling and curves, the cracks and colours, the steps and lines. Hence so many photos...

By the time I left the rock it was already 4pm - I don't really know where the day had gone! I still had to get back to the car and drive a long way.

On my way back I crossed the first beach, but then decided to try to cut off some of the other ones and head across the headlands, following sheep trails. This was going well until I suddenly found myself in a mini birch tree forest. I remembered an old Icelandic joke: "What do you do if you get lost in an Icelandic forest? Stand up!" Well, I was standing but still most definitely lost! I had to trample over the low branches, hoping to find a proper sheep trail. Instead of this, however, I realised that I was heading downhill and the trees were getting taller. At one point I fell backwards and was lying on the top of the trees, like an upturned beetle. It was quite funny, but also pretty frustrating, as I just couldn't find my way out. Eventually I did, but I must've been lost for a good 10 minutes before I reached the safety of grassland again! The rest of the journey back to the car was uneventful, but for a trio of sinister-looking sheep checking me out.

As I left a few sheep ran in front of the car - galloping along the track instead of just turning off it. The sun was coming out patchily over the surrounding landscape. I stopped a few times before re-joining the main road.

I didn't stop for a while after that, continuing on through Buðardalur, and reaching the junction with the turn-off to Stykkishólmur, which I'd driven on back in 2014 (that road is magnificent!). I carried on south and only stopped when I passed an impressive pointy mountain, just before rejoining the ring road (it's called Baula).

From there on I stopped at Borganes to use a loo, and text Mandy to see how her journey was going (she was tucking into the famed fish 'n' chips at the Perfectionist at T2 Heathrow), before continuing on down to the tunnel. The light was getting lovely, so I took a sneaky shot from the car as I headed south.

*iPhoneSE shot

I drove down and up again through the scary tunnel, past Eskja, across the endless roundabouts of Mosfellsbaer, then crossed the outskirts of Reykjavik before heading on to Keflavík. I didn't even pop into the city to visit Orr again (well, it was actually way past closing time and I'd be back again a couple of days later with the girls)! I drove on past the turn-off to the hotel at Ásbrú, as sunset was approaching and there was a chance of some colour, so I thought I'd go on to Gardur. I was extremely disappointed when I got there to find it absolutely packed, as well as having a new hotel built just along from the lighthouses. I took a shot of the end lighthouse only to be shouted at by another photographer that I was in their shot. There's no way you can expect to get no people in wide-angle long exposures in busy spots!

I hid from him behind the far lighthouse and took some shots of the sky as it turned pink - the closest I'd got to a sunset in a week. I could see the spine of the whole of the Snæfellsnes Peninsula to the north.

I decided to eat at the restaurant in Keflavík that I'd visited a few years earlier, so drove back there as the sky darkened. As I drove I suddenly noticed the incredible sight of an enormous orange moon rising above the horizon. There wasn't anywhere to stop, so I drove on and parked near the shore in the town. Unfortunately by that point the moon had risen enough to be behind some low clouds. I waited a little while until it peaked out again, only getting a portion of it. The reflections on the bay below were lovely.

I ate in Kaffe Duus, ordering a seafood salad. It was quite cheap, and the plate came piled with warm chunks of fish and prawns on a bed of salad (including tortilla chips - what's that all about?!). It tasted a bit fishy and I felt a little sick afterwards! I drove to the hotel, which is in Ásbrú - a massive area just next to the airport that used to be a US Naval air station until 2006, and which has been turned into a university campus, as well as hosting some large new hotels to cope with the increase of overnight visitors. I was staying in Bed & Breakfast Keflavik, and my room was absolutely enormous, with two single beds at either side - it was big enough for about four single beds.

Mandy arrived quite late - unfortunately the hotel's shuttle only left every 40 minutes, and Mandy's plane was late arriving, and then she just missed the 12.20am shuttle and had to wait ages for the next one, which itself left late. I could've gone to pick her up, but by the time I would have driven there and parked, it didn't seem worth it. She finally arrived, and I greeted her at reception where there was a massive queue of people checking in. We stayed up talking for a while, and enjoyed a little of the vodka she'd brought with her. We didn't get to sleep until after 3am, which wasn't ideal given that we had a big day hike ahead of us in the morning!


Click here for the blog from Day 5 - Exploring Árneshreppur
Click here for the blog from Day 7 - Hiking to Glymur