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

Iceland #16 - Day 2: Driving to Jökulsárlón

I always get very excited when I'm on my way back to Jökulsárlón, given that it's probably my favourite place in the world! There's so much to see along the way, though, so I don't like to rush it. I woke up early and headed out onto Reynisfjara beach. I didn't have to check out of my cottage until midday so had plenty of time to spend on the beach before heading eastwards. The weather forecast had been for clear skies, but of course there was some cloud in the sky. The storm, at least, had passed; the wind had dropped and rain disappeared. I wasn't the first visitor there - already a photography group was lined up, tripod-to-tripod, as is normal these days. They seemed a little close to the shoreline to me - given that the sneaker waves come pretty far up the beach. I headed away from the people, with the second stack coming into view.

There was a heavy band of cloud on the horizon, so any actual sunrise was out of the question, but the clouds turned a little pink briefly. The air was teeming with seabirds, flitting about above the cliffs. The waves were as powerful as ever, and the tide was high. I watched a man walk right down to the water's edge - as if all the warning signs had completely passed him by - and then scarper as a sneaker wave arrived.

I continued walking, and noticed a few white dots on the sand ahead of me. They were dead fish of some kind - I later Googled them and found them to be skate. The sight of them dotted along the beach made me rather sad; I wondered what had happened to them to cause their demise.

I looked back and noticed a group of photographers running from another sneaker wave. One person had left their camera on their tripod and I watched it fall over into the surf. It never ceases to amaze me how photography groups - with leaders who should know better - take risks like this. There are so many signs now at the entrance - both pictorial and with words, yet they keep on getting ignored. For what? The same picture that we're all taking, only a little closer to the waves! And then more people arrive and do exactly the same. It is really interesting to watch exactly the same human behaviour repeat, over and over. Everyone is lucky to get away with wet feet and maybe a wet camera (which will be ruined due to the salt water). Accidents happen, but it just appals me how little regard people pay to their own safety.

I looked behind to see the lovely dawn glow of the earth's shadow, the pretty little Reyniskirkja up the hill a little way. At the far end of the beach the lighthouse at Dyrhólaey was only just visible through some ground fog.

I continued walking, passing more dead skate, heading towards the fog. The sky was beginning to get more pink over the sea.

I looked behind again to see the first sun illuminating the smooth snowy top of Myrdalsjökull - it looked spectacular.

I walked further along the beach - it was nice to be away from everyone. The sea looked so beautiful - it has an amazing ability to look quite serene, in spite of its incredible power.

Eventually I got a bit cold and started to head back, the icebergs beckoning. The weather became a bit showery as I headed towards the cabin, with the sun making occasional appearances, the waves as impressive as always.

The weather was pretty grim by the time I got back to my cabin, with the next storm arriving. It's so nice to stay so close to a beach like this - being able to just walk back inside, out of the rain, kick off your boots and have a nice cup of tea. I showered and packed up, heading off at 12. I went back to the main house to pay, where two old Icelandic women sat in the kitchen knitting. One was making a scarf for a grandchild and the other was making small baskets for Easter eggs. I headed off, back up the road towards the pass, and down the wonderful sweeping hill that leads down into Vík. The village seems to grow every time I drive through, and yet another new hotel had been completed opposite the petrol station (no doubt advertised with sea views and views of the stacks, even though the first thing anyone could see was the industrial stuff between the road and the beach). I stopped briefly at Hjörleifshöfði, where the plants I'd seen in the autumn were mere stubble. The mountains to the north were shrouded with cloud. There were some patches of cloud illuminated by the sun over the sea to the south.

I stopped a little further on to capture a brief sunny period of sunshine on some lovely green moss. I was surprised that there was still very little snow - unusual for this time of year.

I stopped again a little way before Foss á Siðu, where a pretty waterfall brightened up an otherwise-dull brown hillside. The hills were dotted with these temporary falls, as there had been a fair amount of recent rain, reminding me of our first couple of days in the Faroe Islands the previous year.

I continued on until I reached Lómagnúpur; it looked its usual regal self, with a nice covering of fresh snow on its flanks, although nothing around the base. It was pretty windy still, so I didn't stay for long or do any long exposure or self-portrait shots.

The next time I stopped was just before the turn-off to Kvíárjökull, where I was also intending to stop for a while for a hike. The view before it was something I hadn't noticed before - perhaps the snow usually hid it - a very pointy mountain beneath Staðarfjall. The glacier behind was wonderful, spilling over and caught in the sun. Last-remaining patches of earlier snow created some interesting patterns in the craggy hills.

I turned off again at Kvíárjökull, glad that the short gravel road up to it was mostly snow-free. Usually when I visit in the winter months all of the side roads in the south-east are covered in too much snow, and I daren't risk getting bogged down, so I was glad for the accessibility the lack of snow afforded me.

I headed off, without tripod, across the terminal moraine towards the lake, and then walked along the left side. It looked completely different from my trip the previous September, but the weather was far less threatening. I started off with my long telephoto lens on the camera to capture the ice in the distance.

There was a little more snow here than I'd encountered so far, but still not a great deal. I headed as far as I'd been on my previous visit, to the muddy ice at the end of the trail. It was a bit different, as some of the ice had moved in the intervening five months, and I was able to walk a little further on the moraine. The water was a deep brown from the mud, unlike most other glacial lagoons I'd visited.

Time was getting on, and my yearning for the beach was increasing. I walked back to the car, stopping briefly when I noticed some cute ice formations over some grasses.

The drive from there to Jökulsárlón didn't take long, passing the Fosshotel (which was being extended to add an additional wing) and the entrance to Fjallsárlón, and soon the electricity pylons began to converge and the top of the suspension bridge came into view. As I approached the landscape was covered in snow - it always amazes me how much it can suddenly change: one minute no snow on the ground whatsoever, then the next minute it's all white! I parked on the west side of the bridge, where they had they finished building the road access, which was already potholed. I noticed that they'd redesigned the access on the opposite side too, creating a new road winding down from the main road to the re-opened car-park - no long walk from the main car-park required any more. There was the usual crowd of tourists and photographers pottering about in-between the icebergs, of which they were hundreds crammed on each beach. There was some nice golden-hour light as I'd arrived pretty late - only half an hour before sunset. Hundreds of birds flitted around in the surf, above the icebergs on the opposite beach, hoping to catch what was splashed up by the crashing waves. A man stood on the hill watching the sunset, tripod ready to capture that perfect moment.

The composition wasn't really working for me, with too many icebergs being bashed around in the surf, moving all the time, so I headed back to the car to try the other beach. On the way back I noticed a rather cool crinkly iceberg sitting upright, glowing gold when viewed from behind, backlit by the setting sun.

The road down to the east car-park was far better designed, sweeping gently down the hill, rather than a steep drop, like the last road, where I'd helped some Chinese girls push their car free when it had slipped off the road trying to get up that hill. I parked and walked quickly back down to the beach, conscious of the dropping light; the sun had more-or-less gone behind Staðarfjall to the west by now. This side was equally crowded, with both people and icebergs, again making composition challenging.

The sky turned a little pink as I wandered further along the beach in search of some icebergs in the surf. I found a few arrangements that I liked, and watched (and captured) the waves crashing against the icebergs. As I did, some of the clouds to the south glowed a wonderful dusky pink.

I had the usual challenges with the waves moving the icebergs, creating unwanted blur, but occasionally I got just the right moment and the bergs were sharp. The light faded fast, but I stayed for a bit longer, happy to be back on this incredible beach.

Eventually I was struggling with the light - even with filters removed I was having to do 10 second or so exposures, so I decided to call it a night. It had become pretty cold too, so I headed back towards the car. There was still some distant light to the west, so of course I had to stop a few more times...

I drove to Gerði to check in and then back to Reynivellir, where I was staying in the usual single room. I opened a beer and made myself some avocado salad (my, how the choice at Icelandic supermarkets has improved in the last seven years!) and chatted to some other guests there. I was about to start making some pasta when one of the guys offered me some of the pasta he was making. He was a Brazilian guy living in Reykjavik, travelling with his mother and a travel buddy from the US, and we chatted for a couple of hours. It was nice to have some company, since I hadn't really talked to anyone the since I'd left Sigrún and Johannes' house the previous morning. Eventually I headed upstairs, keen to download my photos and have a look through them. It had been a wonderful if tiring day, starting at one of my favourite beaches, and ending at another. The forecast for the whole of the following day was pretty grim, so I set the alarm for 9am and had a nice long sleep, broken only by the annoyingly loud doors opening and closing as people came and went.

Click here for the blog from Day 1 - A Rainy Drive to Reynisfjara
Click here for the blog from Day 3 - A Grim Day at Jökulsárlón