Iceland #12 - Day 5: Stafafell and Hvalnes

I love waking up in the little yellow cottage, the wind gusting outside and the rain on the roof above me. Today I awoke at 8am and the sky was still brooding and filled with massive clouds, but there was a vague pink/blue morning hue; within minutes it was gone. I took a few shots out of the front door, the wind determined to shut it instantly, and then made myself a cup of tea, before deciding what to do for the day.

The cottage is well-placed between both Stokksnes and Hvalnes, two points at the end of long lagoons, each with jagged mountains towering above, so there's always the choice of visiting one or the other. Sometimes the peaks are shrouded in mist and cloud, but usually it seems to be fast-moving, so if you wait a few minutes (or hours) then the peaks peek out a little. Hvalnes is a good deal closer, so the decision was made to go there when the weather improved enough.



It was still raining outside, so I had a slow morning before the rain subsided, reviewing and editing a few photos, drinking more tea, enjoying the peace and solitude. Eventually at 11am I dragged myself out at and drove down towards Hvalnes, stopping first at the pull-out below the mountains, where there are a couple of little lagoons. I noticed a new line of scree that had fallen since my visit the previous year, a lighter grey than the surrounding slopes. I tried a couple of long exposures but there wasn't quite enough contrast in the clouds. The rain - at least - had stopped.

The lake wasn't frozen at all on the west side of the road, so I wandered across the road to another small lagoon which was partly frozen. The sun came out briefly and the whole of the Eystrahorn mountain was reflected in the frozen surface.

I walked along the shore taking macro shots of water bubbles trapped in the ice. I managed to set the tripod up so it was very low, but had to balance two of the legs on the surface of the ice - which obviously made me a bit nervous. I was captivated by the bubbles and the layers under the ice. It wasn't anything like the incredible frozen snow bubbles I'd seen in Antarctica in 2003 but was still intriguing and beautiful. The macro lens was finally getting some action! I wish I'd brought my extension tubes with me to get even closer... When the wind blew some of the bubbles on the surface slid gracefully across the water.

I spent an hour photographing the bubbles until my back ached too much from crouching down, so I dragged myself away (in spite of being totally transfixed). By the time I finished the sun had gone and the skies darkened. I drove up the road and took the turn-off to the lighthouse and parked there. I stood looking at the peaks of Eystrahorn, which were generally covered in cloud, but at least the cloud was moving quickly so from time-to-time the tops re-appeared. The cloud was nestled in a bowl between the largest two peaks of the mountain for a while. It is one of my very favourite spots in Iceland and there is almost never anyone else there (which obviously I love!). It's just too far east for most visitors, and has a hidden turn-off that is unmarked. Suits me fine that way, I just love this desolate point.

I took a few of my usual self-portraits, putting the camera on timer or using the remote if I was on the right side of the lens for the infrared to work. I even tried to get some of me actually facing the camera - challenging to focus right and with my hair not strewn across my face in the wind.

I wandered to the edge of the hill overlooking the beach, stretching out in the distance towards Brunnhorn and Vestrahorn (which were sadly hidden) - looking stark with the black strip of sand and white waves lapping against the steep shore. A patch of light shone through in a valley to the north, and there was even some blue sky above me. I tried some more long exposures with the 10-stop ND filters; there was a little more contrast in the clouds, but I still wasn't getting the streaks that I was hoping for. The colour cast on my filters is also rather strong, so it's a challenge to get the colour right in post-processing.

At about 2.45pm I drove back to the cottage for a little rest and some tea (and to recharge the batteries), passing hills with clouds draped over the tops. The sky was a strange blue in the distance.

Later on I wasn't sure whether to go back to Hvalnes or head through the tunnel to Stokksnes (the usual dilemma). I decided to stay this side as the sky looked a little clearer to the east, and I could actually see the mountaintops, whereas Brunnhorn and Vestrahorn were still hidden. I would stop there the following morning on my way back to Jökulsárlón instead. The slope of Brunnhorn was just visible underneath a large cloud, with the sun now shining above.

As I approached Eystrahorn the sun illuminated the granite slopes.

A patch of light shone through the valley near where the road winds up to the tunnel, with some distant crepuscular rays.

I parked back along the road near the lighthouse and headed back down to the spot I'd stood at earlier; sun was now shining on the sea below me.

By 6pm the sky began to change colour a little, as sunset was approaching. I wanted a different view so headed south along the edge of the low cliffs to see what else I could find - I could see some waves crashing wildly in the distance.

I found a little inlet where the waves were pouring over low rocks. I couldn't quite get a composition I was happy with, and the light was fading quickly. The frothy water was too white and the rocks too dark for my liking! I walked a little further to see if I could get a better view, but it wasn't really working for me. It wasn't a spectacular sunset anyway, and I now wished I'd gone to Hvalnes, where there was a patch of bright light. That's the luck of the draw I guess, and who knows, it could've been disappointing there too. It was still great to watch and listen to the waves crashing - always impressive around this headland.

After about 20 minutes there I gave up and drove home, happy as always to get back to my cosy little home.

The night was spent cooking my pasta, reviewing photos, speaking to hubby, charging batteries, checking weather and lights forecasts, and enjoying one of my lovely beers - the usual routine. With plenty of cloud cover the chance of northern lights was limited, but I've had good luck there before, so I kept an eye on the stats on various websites, and checked outside every once in a while. It was pretty unlikely that I'd see anything, so I had an early night; I wanted to be up and out early to get to Stokksnes if the weather looked promising (although the forecast was pretty dire).

Click here for Day 4 - Jökulsárlón to Stafafell
Click here for Day 6 - Stokksnes & Jökulsárlón

USA Road-trip - Canyonlands

After our rather disastrous excursion to witness the lunar eclipse we went back to bed and slept all morning, wasting half the day. The sky had become more overcast in the early morning, though, so it's not as if we'd missed any amazing light. We dragged ourselves out at about midday, had an okay breakfast burrito in a cafe in town, then headed north up to Canyonlands National Park. On my previous trip I'd visited Dead Horse Point State Park (where the otherwise spectacular view is somewhat ruined by the blue potash evaporation tanks) and the southern part of the park - Needles, a long drive from Moab. This time I wanted to see the Island in the Sky, and in particular Mesa Arch. The drive there is also pretty long, a good 20 miles once you've turned off the main road, so it takes almost an hour to drive from Moab. Once inside the park the road is slow and windy, with some sections without a straight bit for miles.

The Island in the Sky isn't exactly an island, but is a large mesa with huge sandstone cliffs that is surrounded by canyons, 1,000 ft below. The Colorado River meanders through the canyon to the east and the Green River meanders through the canyon to the west. It is an easy place to visit, with scenic roads along the various sections of the "island" and a few overlooks close to the road. Our first stop was Mesa Arch, which I wanted to scope out for a sunrise shoot. The light was flat and dull, but there was still a stunning view through the arch to the distant buttes and the canyon floor to the east with the blue La Sal mountains on the horizon. The arch is only a five or ten minute walk from the road, and on the approach it suddenly becomes visible, usually with a few people posing for photos.

When I set up my tripod I was inundated by requests to take peoples' photos, so I spent a few minutes snapping away, handing back cameras before the next couple's turn. Eventually the crowds thinned and I got a chance for a few shots of the unobstructed view, as well as shot of my husband and me taken with the remote control. A helpful passer-by looked at the screen on my camera to check the composition for me and we shuffled over a bit so as not to cut my feet off!

I wandered around the area to work out what might make the best shots of the arch at sunrise, and noted a rock on the ground where I planned to be (if the spot wasn't already taken). There were some other nice views of the canyon below; it wasn't all about the arch.

 

We wandered back to the car and continued on to the Grand Overlook viewpoint, where there's a mile-long trail to the end of the island. Along the way we passed a couple of artists painting, but few other tourists ventured past the initial overlook point, so it was lovely and peaceful. The cloud was getting a little contrast, but I longed for some dramatic stormy skies instead.

As we'd set out quite late we were in good time to be there for sunset, although there wasn't likely to be much of one, given the almost solid cloud cover. I hoped for a little colour on the clouds as we'd caught a glimpse of the previous evening. We drove to the west side of the island to Upheaval Dome, a hugely eroded remnant of an impact crater. It's a short hike up to the crater rim, with the option to walk all the way around. We walked to the second viewpoint, across some slickrock, and plonked ourselves down to watch the sunset. The clouds became more dramatic and there was some colour after all. Behind us the crater rim glowed orange. There were many buttes and mesas and winding canyons off to the west, and all around higher mountains glowed blue in the fading light. Hubby played around on his phone while I played around with my camera.

 

We headed down just after the sun had set, knowing that it would be dark within 10 or 15 minutes, and we had a twenty minute walk back down to the car.

We drove back to Moab and lazily ate at the brewery again, only this time we were disappointed by the food and service and were too tired to try the good beers. The weather forecast was for another dull day the next day, so we didn't bother planning a sunrise expedition, but instead enjoyed a nice long sleep.

Next stop: Arches