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 #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