Iceland #15 - Day 3: Hrífunes to Jökulsárlón

Day 3 in Iceland started with a lovely breakfast at the guesthouse, a chat with Élin and Borgar, before heading off late to continue my journey east - I didn't have too far today, so was taking it easy. I took the alternative route 208 back to the ring-road, which I'd avoided on my last visit due to the stormy conditions. It was a pleasant drive, alongside river braids before meeting up with the ringroad. It was a lovely day, mild and still, with mainly blue skies - nice conditions for a drive, if a little dull for photography.

As it was such a lovely day I decided to stop at the basalt floor of Kirkjugolf, but first headed a little further to a waterfall I'd never visited - Stjórnafoss. A coachload of tourists was there when I arrived, but soon headed back to move on to their next stop, so I had the place to myself for a while. It's only a short walk from a car-park, so easy to visit, like most of the sights along the ring-road. It was in annoying shadow - I was there at totally the wrong time of day for decent light - but it was still rather picturesque, set in a mossy, craggy canyon.

There were some interesting geothermal slopes on the low cliffs nearby that reminded me of Yellowstone National Park. And some nice trees.

I hadn't visited Kirkjugolf for a few years, as most of the times I've driven through nearby Kirkjubæjarklaustur it is covered in snow. This was a perfect time to visit. There were a few cars parked in the car-park, but I could see about three couples walking back across the meadow - only one pair was in front of me and hopefully they wouldn't stay long. I was annoyed to see the guy put his bag down on the basalt floor and get a drone out. He spent about ten minutes with the horrible thing buzzing around, and where he stood meant I couldn't take any photos of the view towards the hills behind. Eventually he retrieved the noisy menace, packed it away and they headed back to their car, leaving me in peace finally. I do like photos taken from above with drones, and have considered getting one myself, but they should never, ever be used with anyone in sight or earshot - that buzz is so unbelievably painful!!

Next stop was a brief pull off at the pretty Foss á Siðu, one of my usual quick stops. The falls were going straight down, as there wasn't a great deal of wind.

And then it was on to my beloved Lómagnúpur, which was looking spectacular with a little autumn colour nearby. It was time for the silly selfies, in a spot I've taken many before. I think the borrowed lopapeysa (thank you Sigrún!) made me fit in quite well as a honorary Icelander! The clouds were moving a little, so I did a couple of long exposures to capture their movement across the sky. I get a bit impatient and never work out the calculations, just putting the camera on bulb and trying out a few different times. Must be a bit more scientific about it!

I stopped after the long bridge when I found a pull-out to take a shot looking back - I just love that stretch of road (and was devastated to read of a fatal crash off the bridge last week).

I turned the corner and the glaciers in the distance came into view. The road goes on for ages, but it's certainly an easier experience in conditions like these. I passed the next corner near Skaftafell and stopped in at the petrol station for a burger, before stopping a little further on at a spot called Háalda. Just before I turned off I drove past a lone tree that was in peak autumnal colours - I'd only noticed the tree on my previous visit, which is odd given that it's been there for a long time! I'd always noticed the strange desert landscape, though, with boulders strewn across it, reminding me of the incredible surreal Salvador Dali area in the high altiplano in Bolivia. This time I turned off the road and parked, something that is tricky in winter when you've no idea how deep the snow might be and don't want to risk getting bogged down. I did a hike back the way I came, away from the road, turning round after half an hour when I reached a good viewpoint for the tree.

I loved the place - so peaceful and alien at the same time.

Nice views from near the car park at Haalda

Looking to the east - glaciers!

The landscape was dotted with sporadic patches of moss and plants, some with yellow or red leaves.

As I was leaving three girls arrived and got out to take a few snaps; I love this photo - I think it would make a good album cover!

Next stop: Jökulsárlón - hurray!! I always feel a sense of trepidation and excitement as I approach, with the usual places along the way to let me know I'm close - the turn-off to Fjallsárlón, the moraine along the road and the parking spots, and the electricity pylons and cables eventually meeting the top of the little suspension bridge. I arrived at the bridge at about 4.45pm and was surprised to find that a new road was in the process of being built on the west side of the bridge down to the car park. It wasn't completely finished, but looked as if it had a much better, wider road down the hill. The icebergs didn't look all that impressive at first glance. I drove across the bridge and discovered that the road down to the car park on the east side of the beach had been blocked off, and access was via the area on the other side of the road near the café. I carried on to Gerði to check in, to get that out of the way, and then returned to Reynivellir to drop off my bags. It was nice to be back there, in my little single room.

I made myself a (nice) cup of tea and headed back to the beach and parked on the far side, got myself ready and headed off to see the icebergs. I'd left it a little late, and it was already 6.30pm by the time I got down to the beach, about 40 minutes before sunset. There wasn't a particularly spectacular display of icebergs to greet me, which was a bit disappointing, but I had a little wander along the beach and found a few small ones sitting in the surf line. There weren't that many people either - the usual 20 or so milling about in-between the icebergs. The sky wasn't very interesting either, with a few streaky clouds turning slightly pink over the horizon.

The light began to fade and I suddenly noticed a weird bright light on the horizon. At first I thought it was a boat on fire, then it dawned on me that it was the moon rising! As it was rising I also suddenly noticed that there were loads of large icebergs visible in the waves a little way offshore. This had happened on a previous occasion when in the space of a couple of minutes the outgoing tide revealed some huge bergs. They were moving around a lot in the waves, but I managed to capture a couple of weird-looking creatures with the rising moon behind (which was an incredible burning orange). The moon also cast a beautiful light on the crashing waves too.

I stayed around a bit, taking a few more shots of the stunning moon, before heading off to check out the potential northern light situation at the lagoon.

It's very handy now to be able to use 4G for free and be able to check the forecast from the car, rather than having to wait until I have wifi somewhere (back in the old days). There wasn't much aurora activity forecast, but I thought I'd give it a go anyway. As I drove out of the car-park at the beach I couldn't find the new road - it took another car arriving for me to be able to find how to get out. I parked up along the road a little (where I'd parked on a couple of previous occasions) and set off across the moraine to the lake. The moon was now shining pretty brightly on the icebergs, although it was only just appearing from behind the moraine. I could see a very very vague greenness in the distance, but nothing to write home about. I wandered along the shore for a while; it was serene and not too cold. Eventually I got a bit bored and hungry, so walked back to car (managing to find my way up the hill in the dark, which was no mean feat, although the moonlight definitely helped!).

The forecast for the following morning was for rain, so I had some food, one of my lovely strong beers, and headed to bed with the alarm set for a positively luxurious 10am! Not the best first day back at my favourite beach, but that's just the way it goes, and makes it all the more special when you do get incredible conditions.

My route on Day 3

Click here for my blog from Day 2 - From Hraunfossar to Hrifunes
Click here for my blog from Day 4 - Out and About near Jökulsárlón

Iceland #14 - Day 9: Jökulsárlón to Vík

I had a nice lie-in on my ninth day, deciding not to bother getting up for sunrise, since there wasn't going to be one; it was forecast to be gloomy, cold, snowy, windy and increasingly stormy. Instead I got up late, had a leisurely tea and breakfast, chatted to Annette and her husband, before packing up and heading back to Gerði to check out; the mad dog wasn't around, so I could drive away unencumbered.

Next stop was the lagoon. Occasionally I resist the temptation to go back to the beach, yet again, and instead head to the lagoon at Jökulsárlón. I don't like it as much, as there's no sea, no action. Instead there's often beautifully sculpted icebergs drifting almost imperceptibly towards the shore or the river, peaks coming in and out of view under fast-moving angry clouds, the vague turquoise blue hue of the glacier tumbling down into the lake just visible in the far distance, a few birds flitting around, and the occasional snort from a seal coming up to have a look at what's going on. And, of course, there's the other tourists - always plenty of those.

The car-park has been enlarged just up from the gift shop, and worked better than the previous year, when it had been stretched along the river bank. The gift shop, café and toilets, however, hadn't been extended, which surprised me, as they are woefully inadequate for the numbers of visitors passing through (the queue for the loo is generally just too long to bother with now - another benefit of staying nearby!). I parked up and headed down towards the edge of the lagoon - it was cold, blustery, snowing a little, the sky was a weird browny-grey tone, and it was generally fairly miserable; not ideal photography weather. Not ideal anything weather. The lagoon itself was also fairly miserable, with only a couple of large turquoise icebergs miles away in the distance, with a few other small ones hidden under snow. It was a far cry from my final day there the previous year, when I saw the most incredible symmetrical reflections from a wonderfully jagged berg, under superb blue skies. New signs were up warning people of the dangers. I had seen for myself a few people walking right out on icebergs some years earlier - they had been okay, but wouldn't have been had the ice broken beneath them. People clearly have to be told not to endanger themselves to prevent the Darwin Awards kicking in!

I walked up the first little hill where a few visitors congregated. It was snowing quite heavily by now, and the hills in the distance were empty, oddly. People seemed to be climbing up the first hill to see the view, or wandering along the first stretch of beach, but not venturing any further. I did, and soon everyone else followed!

I wandered further, with others now following. As the icebergs were a little disappointing (even if one did look like a jellybaby) I took a few shots of the lovely greyness of the scene behind me.

I got a bit cold, with the snow and wind incessant, and headed back to the car to continue my journey westwards.

I waved goodbye to my beloved Jökulsárlón and headed off. It wasn't too long before I stopped, as I noticed some beautifully snowy trees near the petrol station at Oræfi, as well as some stunning crepuscular rays over the ocean to the south. I've always noticed a little promontory in the distance, and finally managed to find a map with its name (Ingólfshöfða - I think!).

I continued on, the roads looking much like this for most of the journey. 

After an obligatory stop for the burger at the Shell petrol station at Freysnes it was on towards Lómagnúpur. It looked rather different from my journey there exactly a week earlier, where I'd pranced around in my blue cotton top. This time I was completely layered up and didn't manage to venture very far. Certainly no selfies taken on this occasion. As is often the case, the wind there was stronger than on other stretches of the road. It still looked magnificent; how I love that mountain!

A quick stop at the side of the road was made to see pretty Foss á Siðu in the hamlet of Hamrafoss. There were some wonderful icicles clinging to the frozen cliffs; the waterfall itself was barely visible.

I was keen to crack on, aiming to be on Vík beach before sunset, which didn't leave a great deal of time for stops (this early in the winter was certainly frustrating from that perspective). As I approached Hjörleifshöfði I became increasingly worried about the blowing snow. There was plenty of it around, and driving was therefore slow. Opposite the turn-off (which was completely snowed-in) I pulled off into a lay-by, which wasn't sloping off to the side (and therefore didn't have a pile of deep snow for my tyres to sink into). The view was wonderful, with the sun streaming through the stormy snow-clouds and the needles of Reynidrangar just visible on the horizon. A few cars pulled in behind me to capture the same view (always happens these days!). It was still bitterly cold, so I didn't linger outside the car for long.

I arrived in Vik with enough time before the sunset to get a few shots of the church, perched neatly on the hill, as a beam of sun broke through the clouds. I was also greeted by a cute bird in the snow piled up above the car-park that I stopped at.

I didn't fancy my chances driving down the usual track at the end of the town to the car-park in this snow, so left the car at the petrol station car-park and decided to explore the view from the rocky jetty instead. In the distance I could see waves crashing against it at the end, with a few people jumping out of the way to avoid being soaked. I wandered through sunlit dunes and headed along the pier. While the sun was out there was a glorious golden hour hue.

Clouds came and went, giving some challenging, but interesting light conditions. I set my tripod up in a few places and experimented with different views, lenses and filters. At one point I became panicky as I couldn't change the exposure, but soon realised I had accidentally pushed the lock button. I thought the 5Diii was on its way out, but it has some life left in it, thankfully!

Eventually the sun disappeared behind Reynisfjall and the light was a little easier to capture. I was in heaven, mesmerised by the crashing waves and the picturesque stacks in the background. Occasionally the tide would reveal some rocks in the shallows. It was nice to get a different view from the usual one with the black sand (the beach was dotted with photographers capturing that view!).

The sky darkened and I wanted to get some pizza before heading around the headland to my guesthouse, the Farmhouse Lodge, before it got properly dark. I'd left it a little late, and ended up leaving the Suduk Vik restaurant (with my half pizza for lunch the next day in a box) in proper darkness. I'd also had a beer, which in retrospect wasn't the smartest idea. As I left town the weather wasn't too bad, but as I climbed snow began to hit the windscreen. You'd think after my previous experience of driving in heavy snow in the dark - which was pretty much the scariest thing I've ever done! - that I'd have known better, and totally avoided the chance of a repeat, but no. Here I was on a windy road in the dark with snow driving towards the windscreen. Fortunately I didn't have too far to go, and I knew exactly where I was going, otherwise I might have been in trouble. I hoped that at the top of the hill the change in direction of the road might help, but the snow still came straight at me (like flying through a meteor shower!). A little after the bottom of the bendy pass I passed a small car at the side of the road, stuck in the snow. I momentarily thought about stopping to help, but what could I have done? Leaving my car in the road would've been dangerous (visibility was practically zero), and I didn't have any ropes to tug them out, so I continued on. It seemed like an eternity - just like the last time - and I was so relieved to get to the turn-off and arrive at my home for the night. Next time hopefully I'll make sure I get home before dark! The storm was forecast to last all night and a good part of the next day; hopefully the winds might drop enough for me to continue my journey to Álftanes - fingers crossed!

Click here for my blog from Day 8 - Jökulsárlón Yet Again
Click here for my blog from Day 10 - Driving from Vík to Álftanes