Iceland Feb 2015 - Day 3: A Day in Jökulsárlón

In spite of a forecast of total cloud cover the sky was a beautiful purply-pink when I got up. I hadn't expected it, so wasn't down at the beach to take advantage of the morning colours, so had to be content to snap a few shots of the bay at Hali. A lesson learnt: get up for sunrise regardless of the weather forecast, just in case.

Feeling annoyed with myself over the missed opportunity I headed back to Jökulsárlón, arriving at a tardy 9.25am (twenty-five minutes after sunrise). There were only a couple people on the beach already - it's rarely empty these days. The west beach was empty of icebergs, as the tide was coming from the south-west, depositing huge chunks of ice on the east beach. The light wasn't great, with overcast skies (all the pink had gone by the time I arrived), and I struggled to find compositions that I was happy with, which sometimes happens there; the icebergs just didn't speak to me. I was using my old trusted 24-70mm, and there was no rain, so at least I didn't have to faff around with a rain cover or worry about the focusing problems of the previous day.

Half an hour later and the skies began brightening up a little, with some colour and contrast on the clouds above. Quickly the sun was peaking through and the clouds were dissipating. The light was definitely improving and I found an iceberg with a dirty stripe to capture in the changing light.



The sun came out just above the horizon, before clouds crept across the sky, giving some magnificent crepuscular rays for a while. A big storm cloud came across, dumping a quick sprinkling of hail, producing more spectacular rays, before moving away. In its place were a few solitary clouds on the horizon, with the sun passing in and out, creating more rays and shadows. I was in crepuscular ray heaven!

The clouds quickly returned, and in spite of the intermittent sun it was still extremely cold, with a typical harsh Icelandic wind. In the distance I noticed a couple being photographed - the woman in her bridal outfit, the bright white dress blowing madly in the wind. I'm amazed at the lengths people go to in search of the perfect wedding photos, but at least it was dramatic. A shower would come and they'd rush back to the car, before dashing out again for another session between the icebergs.

I tore myself away, my feet ice-blocks, and had a coffee in the café on the other side of the road. I nursed my frozen toes, which were acheing worryingly, and chatted to a couple of Dutch guys, as we enjoyed the view of the lagoon through the steamy window. The sun came and went and occasionally poured out onto a blue iceberg in the distance. A party of English school-children came in - it seems to be a popular place for geography field trips these days. I rested for an hour, until my toes had thawed, then headed out for a little wander around the edge of the lagoon. I didn't normally love the lagoon, but the blueness of the icebergs this year endeared me to it more than usual! More picturesque large storm clouds passed by, dumping the odd shower, but I didn't bother with the rain cover again.

I had another quick break in the café before heading back to the beach - I can never stay away for long. It was around 1pm by this time and teeming with visitors. More storms hit, including another sudden sharp dump of hail - okay if you were facing away from it, but painful if not. I gave the 100-400mm lens another try, being more careful to ensure I was focusing properly. The wind still meant it was challenging to get a truly sharp shot, especially when extended or when doing long exposures.

After a particularly nasty bout of hail I decided that I needed a proper break, so I headed back to the guesthouse for a rest. I wandered along the track near the guesthouse to see the resident horses, who only seemed to be interested in eating hay, until another couple came along. I then took a little nap and headed back to the beach at 4.30pm, hoping that there might be a spectacular sunset, given the interesting skies. After half an hour with the long lens I nipped back to the car to get a wider lens, as there were some impressive huge storm clouds above the beach.

The light and colour soon faded as the sun set (no sign of it behind the clouds) making way for the blue hour, my favourite time on Jökulsárlón Beach.

 

I headed back to the guesthouse, cooked some pasta, and then did the usual obsessive checking of weather and aurora forecasts every few minutes. The aurora were due to be low, but there was a chance of some clear skies - at least I could try some shots of the stars, if nothing else. I drove back to the lagoon at around 9.30pm, parking on the far side of the bridge and tried out a few long exposures across the lake. From that side I could just make out the glow from the Holuhraun volcano in the distance. I got a couple of okay shots, with the Milky Way slightly visible, the volcanic glow, and a green glow from the distant northern lights, but unfortunately a dense bank of cloud covered the area just above the horizon, otherwise it might have been a wonderful night. There was a constant bustle of activity by the café, with endless car lights shone across the ice, which I found a bit irrirating, but at least it added a little light from time to time, which was otherwise severely lacking. The aurora forecast was far better for the following night, so after an hour I called it a night, went home, skyped hubby and enjoyed a nice cold beer from the car.

Click here for Day 2 - A Drizzly Drive to Jökulsárlón
Click here for Day 4 - A Blue & Green Day in Jökulsárlón

10 Reasons I Love Iceland

There are hundreds of reasons why I love Iceland, and why I keep going back year after year. There are probably hundreds more why other people love the tiny country, but I thought I'd share ten of my favourite things about place, illustrated with some photos I've taken over the past couple of years.

1. Ice... 
...it flows slowly down mountainsides in huge glaciers before crumbling away at the bottom and drifting off into the sea. Jökulsárlón beach is my absolute favourite spot in Iceland, where icebergs of all shapes, sizes and colours are washed ashore and battered by waves on a black volcanic beach.

2. Waterfalls...
...melting glaciers and winter snows - as well as a bit of rain - create thousands of waterfalls, ranging from pretty trickles down basalt cliffs to roaring deluges bringing thousands of gallons of water per seconds rushing down canyons. Some just appear spookily from lava fields. I discovered a new one recently, a little-known fall in the north-west of the island called Kolufossar.

3. Volcanoes...
...the best place in the world to go for a geography field trip - volcanoes and signs of Iceland's volcanism are everywhere! From enormous barren fields of old gnarled lava flows to freshly erupting red-hot lava, you can see how alive the country is (and has been), beneath and above the surface... This is Holuhraun, which has been erupting since late August 2014, seen from a Cessna - it shows no signs of abating. It is also possible to go down inside a dormant volcano.

4. Geology...
...in general but the basalt columns in particular. They are remnants of old lava flows which can be found all over the island, as well as clearly used as inspiration for the design of churches and buildings.

5. Fjords...
...most people stick to the main tourist areas in the south, but the west, north and east coasts are marked by dozens of stunning fjords, some with steep-cliffed mountains surrounding them.

6. Swans...
...when I visit in March there are usually hundreds of elegant whooper swans. They often sit in fields in pairs, or fly past in huge numbers, often in groups of up to 50 or more, honking as they fly over. Such graceful birds. Another beautiful bird species that graces the island is the puffin, seen during the summer months.

7. Desolation...
...I love the feeling of desolation and remoteness, and Iceland is the place to find it, even along the ring road. Drive a couple of miles off the road and you're really in the middle of nowhere. There's even a wrecked plane sitting on a black sandy plain.

8. Weather...
...it's harsh! The country is often whipped by fierce, freezing winds, and battered by hailstorms, snow and rain (at any time of year!), but it can be totally glorious and calm on a sunny day. With such beautiful scenery there's always something to see and do, even in the worst of weather. And you're guaranteed to see some great crepuscular rays and visible rain.

9. Northern Lights...
...sometimes you see them, mostly you don't! Iceland is often cloudy, so even if the aurora borealis are out and about, they may be hidden above the clouds. But if you're lucky and you do see them, what a show! And such beautiful backdrops everywhere...

10. Sculptures...
...the influence of the geology and history of Iceland are clear in many of the island's sculptures, as well as in the architecture. Around the Reykjanes Peninsula and the Reykjavik city area are dozens of wonderful sculptures, some not even in any guide books. My favourite individual sculpture is the Sólfar (Sun Voyager) sculpture along Reykjavik's northern waterfront, but my favourite collection is on a hillside in the suburb of Grafavogur.

Many more images of Iceland can be seen on my website, available as personal downloads, prints and for licensing, and tips on capturing the northern lights and what gear to take can be found in earlier blogs.

Volcano-chasing in Iceland

I usually visit Iceland in March. Occasionally there's a rumble and talk of some possible volcanic activity and I get a little excited that I might be there to actually witness en eruption, but then I go home without any action. So when I read about the grumblings of Barðarbunga and the subsequent eruption of Holuhraun a couple of weeks ago I felt annoyed that I wasn't there. I mentioned this to my friend in Rekyjavik and she said "just hop on a plane, it's supposed to last a bit." This comment - together with photos taken from a small plane over the eruption site in a UK newspaper - got me thinking; it hadn't actually crossed my mind to go until then. I casually mentioned to my husband that evening that I ought to go over and see it (and spend a little extra time there to make the trip worthwhile, of course) and that was that, decision made. I spent the next couple of days booking everything, with a couple of sightseeing flights over the volcano organised too, and left a few days later.

So off I went on a last-minute trip to my favourite country - volcano-chasing the perfect excuse to go back there. I flew into Keflavik in a light drizzle and got the bus along the strange, characterless road across the endless lava fields that lead to Reykjavik, got dropped off at domestic airport, and from there I then flew up to Akureyri, arriving during the golden hour, the sun shining beautifully to greet me. It was a lovely welcome back to this beloved country. I picked up a one-way rental car and headed off to Goðafoss for my first night (see my waterfall blog). The woman at the guesthouse told me that it was possible to see the glow from the lava a few kilometers away, so I had a quick look - indeed the horizon shone with the reflection of the lava on the clouds of smoke and gas it was pouring out. It set my excitement levels higher for what I was hoping to see the following day!

After an early rise to catch sunrise over the falls I headed to Lake Myvatn, hoping to get my first sightseeing flight at 8.30am. As I drove around the lake I could see a sandstorm to the south, and the weather-forecast was for strong winds both in Myvatn and over Holuhraun (I'd been checking manically for the previous few days), so I didn't have high hopes of the flight actually leaving. As expected, all the Myflug flights were cancelled that day, but rearranged for the following morning. I didn't feel too disappointed, as I still had plenty of opportunity to see it, and there's lots to see in the area. I spent the day pottering around a bit at the mud pools at Hverir, driving up to Dettifoss, wandering between the lava formations at Dimmuborgir and finally exploring the pseudo-craters near my hotel (the Sel Myvatn) during the golden hour. After dinner I headed back to Dimmuborgir where I witnessed the most spectacular northern lights show (see my northern lights blog).

The next day the winds were forecast to be really strong until about 2pm, but my flight was at midday, so I was worried that it might be postponed again. I didn't receive a cancellation call, so drove to the airport and arrived to be told that it was all on. Half an hour later I was sitting in the front passenger seat of a 6-seater Cessna, the controls in front of me, heading south across a massive barren lava field towards the smoke trail on the horizon, beside a pilot who was probably just over half my age! It was an overcast day, which was perfect for viewing the lava, although made the sights along the way a little dull. We flew over the enormous Askja crater lake (and nearby Viti), before arriving at the magnificent eruption site at Holuhraun. We spent about 15 minutes circling the incredible spectacle so all of us on the plane got a good view. Huge amounts of red hot lava were forced out of the black craters every few seconds, with the smoke and gases, lava trail and mountains just visible behind. It was over too quickly, and off we headed back to Myvatn airstrip - all with massive grins on our faces, and memory cards full of photos.

 

 

Although it wasn't very bumpy, I felt quite airsick on the way back. I'd over-dressed and totally over-heated and was very glad to arrive back on firm ground and strip off a few layers. As a result of feeling quite rough, I wasn't too bothered whether the flight was on the following day or not, given that I'd seen what I'd come to see. I went back to the hotel and caught up on a few hours of sleep.

After another small northern lights show and a bit of a lie-in I returned to the airport for 10am the next day and it turned out that the winds were light enough to fly - so off I went again, also in the Cessna, with a different pilot (also half my age!). I sat on the right-hand side again, but in the middle, behind the passenger seat. The view was still good, although I couldn't see the volcano as we approached. It was slightly more bumpy, although not bad, but we couldn't fly over the Askja crater this time. Instead we saw some beautiful isolated hillocks on the desolate lava plain below, lit by patchy sunlight. The air to the east was thick with red gas and smoke from the volcano. The wind-direction had changed slightly and was now blowing towards the north/north-west, so we were able to fly a little south of the eruption site over the lava flow. The pilot flew higher than the previous day, so the view was different, looking down on the eruption sites and the glowing lava trail as it wove its way down to the Jökulsá á Fjöllum river. The volcano seemed even more active than the previous day, with one massive eruption and three smaller ones. We only did a couple of sweeps past the lava, as we went further along the trail, but still got great views, before heading back to base. I wish I could've stayed there longer, circling around, looking down at the bubbling molten rock - serious geology in action!

  

 

From then on the trip was a little more normal. I drove slowly back to Reykjavik over a few days, stopping along the way in the northern fjords and the Snaefellsnes Peninsula in the west, seeing more beautiful waterfalls and some striking stacks, before the last highlight of my trip - actually going inside a dormant volcano chamber! I'd read about the Inside the Volcano trip a couple of years earlier, and was disappointed not to be able to go in March (it only operates during summer months). When I booked this trip it was an added bonus to be able to do this excursion. When I arrived at the starting point at the Bláfjöll ski field in a misty drizzle I realised why they only run it in summer - it's up on a high desolate plateau that suffers from strong winds and lots of fog and rain.

After kitting myself out in thermals and rain/windproof layers, the group of us set off across the lava, passing a few lava tube caves, before arriving at the basecamp for the journey into the volcano. In May each year they helicopter in a couple of portaloos and containers that serve as the storage unit and shelter for people before and after the trip (they take all of the equipment out again at the end of September). We were split into three groups and given harnesses and hard hats to wear, before climbing the last few metres up to the entrance of the volcano. There we were attached by a line to a bridge across the narrow opening of the volcano, and then reattached to a line inside the lift carriage (the lift is like one of those on the side of a skyscraper for window-cleaning and is attached to a crane). When we were all in we were hoisted down about 120 metres into the volcano below. On the floor of the cave they've set up a series of flood-lights to light up the walls of the massive chamber. The colours on the walls are quite incredible - mainly yellow from the sulphur and red from the iron, with a few others thrown in. Standing at the bottom and looking up to the tiny slit of light made me realise just how enormous volcanoes can be, and I thought of it full of bubbling and erupting lava, like the one I'd flown above at Holuhraun. This was what would be left at Holuhraun in a thousand years, perhaps!

It was challenging photographically, as the light was still very limited, and the ground was uneven with rocks from old eruptions, but I managed one shot I was very pleased with of a local man taking his own photos (he stood still enough for my long exposure to catch him!). It was also impossible to capture the whole of the cave with my widest angle on the new 16-35mm lens, or to get a sense of the scale of the place. If I return, I'll have to rent an 8mm fish-eye, or something of that ilk.

Like the flights it was over too quickly and our group was called to return to the surface; I could've stayed down there for hours. As we ascended the remaining people down below became the little dots of their white helmets before soon disappearing. We climbed out along the platform and then wandered back down to basecamp where a big pot of hot lamb stew awaited us. After two bowls of the delicious soup we headed back across the lava, a fine drizzle still dampening the walk. We stopped in a couple of lava tubes, the lovely guide excitedly pointing out that the walls were almost smooth from the lava that had flown through them over a thousand years before.

I drove back to Reykjavik, without getting lost for a change (don't know what it is about that geography and roads in that city - it just confuses the hell out of me!) and headed to the Welcome Apartments, where I always stay. I had a bite to eat at Café Solon, where I always eat, washed down by a couple of wonderful porters made by Borg (one of the country's micro-breweries), before a long last Icelandic sleep (it was drizzly, so no northern light spotting or sunrise to worry about). In the morning I wandered around the town and photographed some of the artistic graffiti, stopped in a café where I was greeted by a panoramic array of bright apples - everyone was on their Macs, before a last look inside Harpa and my beloved Solfar (sun viking) sculpture.

It was a fantastic trip, full of wild vulcanism, intense aurora, crazy colours and majestic waterfalls; well worth the impulsive last-minute decision to go and see the volcano and also experience a part of the country I didn't know, at a different time of year. I did feel strange (and quite sad) not to be visiting Jökulsárlón beach or the south coast, but I can't go there every time! And who knows, the volcano may still be erupting in March, and maybe by then it'll be possible to visit it at ground-level and see it in all its glory, up close and personal...

Other images from the trip can be found on my website within the Iceland Sept 2014 gallery

Please contact me for details on licensing/usage of the volcano images at sophiecarrphotography@hotmail.co.uk