Northern Lights-chasing in Iceland

My impulsive decision to visit Iceland to see the erupting Holuhraun volcano turned out to be extremely well-timed. On my second night there, staying at the southern end of Lake Myvatn, I witnessed a spectacular northern lights show. I'd read that there had been a solar event a couple of days earlier, which was likely to result in an impressive display that night. Earlier in the day I'd visited Dimmuborgir, a series of huge volcanic rock forms, and decided that these might make a good foreground for any light pictures. I drove there an hour after sunset, parked in the car-park, and wandered around a few of the paths in the rapidly-decreasing twilight, alone, scoping out some good rocks; I felt a little nervous. I found a couple of great formations, two together with a hole in each. Unfortunately they were facing east (north/north-west would have been better), but in all the other directions there were also interesting black shapes silhouetted against the sky.

Some of the formations look very face-like (it's hard not to suffer from pareidolia in Iceland - there are faces everywhere!), including this one that helped me understand why there are so many stories about trolls.

At 9.40pm I saw the first faint glimmer of auroral activity, mainly just a vague streak in my photos. I sat on the ground, patiently waiting for things to hot up, and eventually they did! By ten o'clock the skies were alive with activity, and by 10.30pm I thought that the sky was going to fall onto me, as I sat watching the lights dance above my head, shooting beams of faint green and purple light down towards me. Unlike my experience in March at Jokulsarlon, where my northern light viewing was accompanied by the cackle of thirty Japanese girls, here I was alone, surrounded by weird black jagged rocks, with no noise other than my own exclamations of wonder!

 

I decided I ought to try somewhere with a different view, so headed back along the dark paths to the car-park, just as the bright nearly-full moon rose from behind the black rocks. From a higher path above the car-park I could see the glow from the volcano on the horizon to the south, with gentle aurora glimmering above it.

I lingered on the hill for a while, looking to the west as the lights danced over Lake Myvatn, with the lights at Skutustaðir, where my hotel was, just visible to the south.

At 11pm I decided to go back to the hotel for a bit to warm up, check the lights forecast, and perhaps head off to Goðafoss. The lights had faded a little, although I could still see them with the naked eye in spite of the moonlight and ambient light around the lake (a good sign of activity!). The forecasts all showed activity levels of Kp6 - a serious auroral storm - but when I ventured out to the pseudo-craters at just past midnight the lights had more-or-less disappeared. An hour was spent looking at nothing, waiting in vain for the lights to return. I went back inside and then at 2am the forecast rose to Kp7, so I headed out again! The lights were back, visible clearly to the south-west, so I headed west around the lake to find something to capture. The moonlight was very bright by this stage, washing out any lights visible to the east. I'd driven past a small pointy mountain the day before, so parked opposite that when I found a pull-out. Without the moon the night would have been even more spectacular, but at least it lit up the foreground a little. I decided not to bother driving all the way to Goðafoss.

I continued on my journey round the lake, and drove up the hill towards Hverir, looking back at the lake and the geothermal plant. The cloud cover was increasing and the lights were fading, as was my energy. Just before 3am I called it a night, drove back to the hotel and managed to get a few hours' sleep.

The following night the auroral activity was low, but I managed to see a little glimmer over the pseudo-craters. Each night I obsessively checked all the forecasts I knew of (some had crashed the night before as a result of the increased activity because of the storm!). On my penultimate night I was staying in the west, at Grundarfjordur, where the beautiful Kirkjufell and nearby falls are situated. The skies were clear-ish, but the Kp activity was low - only hovering around 1.67. At 10pm though, the woman from reception of my hotel knocked on my door and told me that the lights were visible outside. I quickly dressed up (thermals, layers, gloves, hat, etc..) and headed outside, got in the car and drove to Kirkjufell. It was a strange thing to be doing, climbing up a hill in the dark, in order to photograph waterfalls and mountains at night, with aurora above, but I wasn't the only photographer there! There were a couple of others, and a couple more came and went during my hour there. The best displays were when I arrived, photographing just the mountain itself from near the roadside. Once I got to the falls the activity had subsided a bit, and the waning moon rose.

The lights were fairly static, and a huge swathe of green stripes hung above me, from the north-east to the south-west. Eventually I gave up and headed home, stopping once alongside some reeds at the lake's edge.

Considering I'd gone to Iceland to see the volcanic eruption I was extremely pleased that I'd also been treated to such incredible auroral displays, especially given that I'd seen practically nothing on my visits in 2012 and 2013. Fingers crossed for more next year.

For tips on how to photograph the northern lights see my blog from earlier this year.

More images from this trip can be seen in the Iceland Sept 2014 gallery on my website.

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

Waterfall-chasing in Iceland

No trip to Iceland is complete - or likely - without visiting at least one extremely impressive and beautiful waterfall. They are literally pouring off every mountain, along every river, into every canyon. Some are visible from the ring-road whereas others require a little more effort, accessible via gravel roads or hiking uphill a mile or two to reach them.

On my recent volcano-chasing trip I managed to visit four very impressive falls in the north and west of the country - three that I'd visited on previous trips, and one new one, that I only found out about by chance after looking at the local region's website.

My first waterfall was the horseshoe-shaped Goðafoss, which is just off the main road, about half-way between Akureyri and Lake Myvatn. I saw it briefly on a weekend trip to the north of the country in March 2009 and part of it was frozen - it looked stunning in the winter sunshine. Now, in September, there was no ice to be seen, but I had a little longer to enjoy it as I was staying at the nearby guesthouse. I arrived just after the sun had set behind the hills to the west, but the clouds soon became illuminated pink, as I clambered over the basalt column tops at the lower part of the falls.

In the morning I got up at dawn and headed down the short path to the falls as the sky began to change colour for me. The light was tricky, with the best coloured clouds away from the falls themselves. My time was limited as I had to get to Myvatn for just after 8am for my volcano sightseeing flight, and had to get breakfast, pack and drive there before then. By 7am I headed back to the guesthouse, just as the sun glowed on the hills to the west.

My volcano trip was cancelled owing to sandstorms and strong winds, so I headed to my second waterfall - Dettifoss. Again, I'd seen it in March 2009, taking a fantastic super-jeep trip over the snow on the west bank to see it, as well as nearby Hafragilsfoss and Selfoss. This time the roads were open on both sides of the river, so I decided to head on the east bank to see it from a different side. The road was long and hard - dusty and gravelly, passing through the odd dust-storm. The horizon to the south was very hazy with gas and smoke from the erupting Holuhraun volcano.

Eventually I reached the parking area for Dettifoss and headed down to the magnificent falls, which carry the highest volume of water of any falls in Europe. The wind was crazy, rendering the tripod almost useless and therefore not much chance to try out some long exposures. As I neared the edge of the falls I found a sheltered spot, though, and managed a couple of long exposures, but the water looked murky with the red sandy air in the distance. I watched people clamber across the rocks below me, hugging the edge of the cliff; it's not a place for the faint-hearted.

After battling the sandy wind, I was too exhausted to walk to Selfoss or even drive to Hafragilsfoss - I just wanted to get back down that dusty road and head to my hotel to catch up on some sleep. I'd seen a sign at the turn-off for "coffee and cake" and was very glad for the well-timed stop - a delicious warmed crumble-topped apple cake with cream and some decent coffee helped keep me going for a little while longer. 

The next waterfall I saw was Goðafoss again, as I headed west after seeing the volcano, a couple of days later. I was there in the afternoon for a couple of hours, visiting both sides this time. The weather was fairly overcast, but the sun came out when I was on the left bank; the light wasn't ideal. It was also pretty busy, with tourists and photographers coming and going, especially compared with sunrise, when I'd been the only person there!

The following day I checked the website for the Vatnsnes Peninsula, which I was visiting to see the Hvitserkur stack. I wanted to make sure I wasn't missing any sights and was very glad I did - I discovered a very pretty waterfall called Kolufossar. A gravel road just past Blonduos brought me to the wonderful falls, which may possibly be my favourite in Iceland now. A couple of couples came and went while I was there, but otherwise I was alone, the odd tractor driving past in the distance. The sun shone brightly, hidden intermittently by passing clouds. With more time I would like to have explored the canyon downstream, but I had to get to Hvitserkur in time for sunset.

Last but not least on my waterfall trail was the much-photographed Kirkjufoss, with the Kirkjufell mountain behind, just outside of Grundarfjorður. I had planned on visiting Hraunfossar and Barnafoss, a little inland near Husafell, but didn't end up having the time or energy for the detour. I'd visited Kirkjufoss back in March 2012, when there was still a fair amount of snow on the ground, limiting where I could explore, but the waterfall itself had been flowing freely. I had also been the only photographer there on that occasion. This time I arrived during the golden hour and not surprisingly, wasn't the only one. There were between 8 and 12 photographers at any one time, most of whom huddled with their tripods leg-to-leg above the higher of the falls. I actually prefer the lower falls, so that worked well, as I headed a little way down the hill and enjoyed the sunset over the pointy peak from there, without having to jostle for tripod-space! Of course I did take a couple of the top falls too, but tried out a few different angles.

Rather fortuitously it was clear in the evening and some unexpected northern lights came out to play, so I returned to the hillside to see the falls under aurora light, with a little help from my torch to brighten the water.

I did miss the waterfalls of the south - Seljalandfoss, Skogafoss, Gulfoss, Svartifoss and the lesser-known Urriðafoss, but I'm sure I'll be back to visit them on future trips. I must also revisit the wonderful Litlanesfoss and make it up to Hengifoss in the east one of these days. I'm sure there must be dozens of other beautiful falls that I've yet to discover.

Please have a look at my Iceland Sept 2014 gallery for more photos from this trip.

For queries on licensing/usage, please contact me on sophiecarrphotography@hotmail.co.uk