Iceland #15 - Day 2: Hraunfossar to Hrífunes

The forecast for sunrise on day 2 was for greyness, so I decided to catch up on a bit of sleep and visit Hraunfossar after the sun had come up. I headed back to the waterfalls after a tasty breakfast and checking out (I highly recommend the Guesthouse Steindorsstaðir if you're staying in that area), not actually getting there until just before 10. The light was flat and white, which was annoying but not unexpected. I'd discovered a path on the previous afternoon that led down to the beach opposite the falls, but hadn't ventured down there, so this seemed a good time to explore a little, away from everyone else. It was nice to be at the river level, rather than looking down on the falls, but didn't make a great deal of difference. I only stayed forty minutes, concentrating mainly on the west side of the falls where most people didn't bother to go.

Hraunfossar on a dull morning

I see the number 13 in this - anyone else?!

I had quite a busy day planned, and quite far to drive, heading across past Lake Þingvallavatn, along the south coast past Vík, before heading up to Hrífunes, where I was staying in the lovely Glacier View guesthouse again. Each stop, therefore, had to be relatively short, especially as I didn't leave Hraunfossar until 10.30am.

I drove back to Hvalfjörður the same way I'd driven the previous day; the weather was far better and improved as I drove south (I had hoped to go inland and drive down the F550, which is no longer technically an F road as it doesn't require fording any rivers, but that would've required a 4WD and cost a couple of hundred pounds extra, and might already have been closed for the winter anyway). I stopped at Kerlingafoss again, this time armed with a wide angle lens and the tripod, to capture the waterfall and canyon again. It was a bit hairy trying to get a shot with the full length of the waterfall in (I hate cutting waterfalls off, just like icebergs - they have to be whole, generally). The slope at the top of the waterfall was pretty steep and a bit crumbly, and I felt a little nervous, but just took it very slowly. The sun came out but this only exacerbated the darkness of the rocks that surrounded the falls. It was a far nicer day, but with a bitter wind to remind me I was in Iceland.

Next stop was the Hvalur hf whaling plant (not quite sure what else to call it). I could see as I approached that a boat was moored at the end of the pier and there was a hive of activity - people milling about and cars driving around the site. I parked just past the entrance and wandered to the perimeter fence. James had warned me how horrible it was, both on the eyes, the mind and the nose. It was as he described, although fortunately the wind was blowing in the opposite direction, so I didn't get the stench at least. 

My first sight through the high perimeter fence was of a whale carcass, almost stripped completely down to the skeleton, with the ground covered in blood (just learnt a new word - flensed, which is the removal of bits from a carcass, particularly a whale). I walked a bit further and took a few more photos with my telephoto lens, which didn't go unnoticed by some of the workers below. It was quite ghastly, watching the men going about their business, scurrying around, cutting bits here and there. There were different bits of two carcasses dotted around the site. I took lots of photos, and was going to share them on here, but decided that they were too ghastly. Here is one, which gives you an idea of what it's like (otherwise google it and you get plenty of gory images of this vile place).

I sent James a message to say I was there - he'd mentioned that he might come by. He was on his way, so about twenty minutes later I got to meet my new Twitter friend in the flesh, in rather surreal circumstances overlooking the flensing of fin whale carcasses. We chatted about the whales, Iceland and photography for a while, a biting wind ever-present. After a while an old SUV drove up to check us out - inside was the owner of the whole operation, Kristján Loftsson, one of the richest men in Iceland and apparently a man with a lot of sway over fishing operations in the country (hence whaling actually happening in spite of being banned internationally). He checked us out before driving off, back to the plant. We chatted a little longer but eventually I said goodbye as I had to get going on my long drive. It was nice to meet a fellow photographer and Icelandophile - my second Twitter friend I've met in real life now :)

I drove around the fjord and felt quite strange. It was a moving and depressing experience and although I was fascinated to see it, I think I would rather not have done in retrospect. The fjord was so peaceful, serene and beautiful; the whaling plant was just so incongruous. And how can this country I love so much let something like this happen still?

I took the turn up the route 48 which leads up towards Þingvallavatn and then headed around the west side of the lake on a glorious winding road (route 360) which I hadn't driven before. It was absolutely stunning - the sun had come out and there were beautiful orange leaves on trees filling the surrounding countryside. I couldn't find anywhere to stop, but wish I had. The road from Þingvellir across to Laugarvatn was closed for repair, so this was the only route up to Þingvellir from the south and was a bit busy as a result. I stopped at the southern end of the lake where I've taken a couple of photos before - the road surface was being replaced and was absolutely terrible - and then again at the delightful Úlfljótsvatnkirkja. It was already 2.30pm when I reached that church - the day was flying by!

It wasn't long, however, until I was back on the faster routes 36 and 35, and then on the ringroad, heading through Selfoss towards my destination. I love driving east, with the anticipation of all of the sights to come. The first one is Seljalandsfoss, which you can see from miles away if you know where to look. I pulled into a layby near the turnoff down to the ferry terminal to take a couple of shots of the falls - sorry, I'm not going to be paying ISK700 to park to have a look at it again (unless the conditions are magnificent). Besides, it looks lovely from a distance. There was some visible rain nearby too, which I always love.

Seljalandsfoss blowing in the wind; smaller falls nearby

Not far away I stopped near Steinar to see how my favourite rocks were doing. I couldn't be bothered to walk all the way down to the shoreline as the sky was dull in the distance; they weren't looking their best. I noticed that the collection of bras attached to the fence there had increased massively - I wonder what the story is there... (quick google gave me one answer)

After the quick stop I continued on my journey, still a little way to go, stopping again at some nice rocky hills and opposite Skogafoss (not looking as lovely as it had done on my previous visit, covered in incredible icicles). 

Nicely timed little tractor drive-by!

I wanted to get to Hrífunes early enough for sunset, so drove on, not stopping at any of the sights near Vík (they would have to wait until the way back, if at all). I did pull over briefly at the wonderfully-named Hjörleifshöfði and wandered along the road a little to see some dried plants looking rather pretty in the sun, and more superb visible rain storms in the distance.

I just love seeing rain falling in the distance. And a nice safe distance away it was!

Next stop was my home for the night, the Glacier View Guesthouse, where I received a lovely warm welcome from Elin and Borgar (one of Sigrún's brothers) and their sweet assistant Mikhal. It's always lovely to go back to places where the owners are so passionate about their business and provide such a lovely, welcoming experience. As I'd arrived I'd noticed a pen full of sheep, and also noticed a delicious smell of garlicky lamb as I walked in. This was réttir season (where the farmers get the sheep back from the hills to overwinter in sheds or to send to slaughter), and tonight the local farmers were having a celebratory meal before dividing up the sheep. My dinner would also be lamb, later, after this group had finished, which was perfect as it gave me a chance to take some photos of the sheep and have a quick wander down the hill to see the river braids below.

How beautiful is Icelandic wool (seen here in situ on its producer)?!

I think the brown one had been smoking something...

The sun was setting as I wandered back up the hill to the guesthouse

I lingered outside for a bit, and the farmers emerged and began milling around outside the sheep pen. They were drinking beer and laughing and chatting, and eventually got inside the pen and started to split up the sheep, directing some of them into a chamber on one side of a big barn. 

The light began fading fast, so I went in - lamb and beer beckoning. It still felt a bit weird seeing and hearing the bleating sheep and then eating - presumably - their delicious offspring. I wonder if they could smell the lamb? Hopefully they wouldn't know what the smell was...

Supper was a little odd - not the food (that was delicious) - but the company. There were two large tables - one with an Icelandic group who had come up from Reykjavik for a celebration, and another, where I was sitting, with a German photography tour group. I sat opposite the leader and we chatted a bit, and occasionally the others would talk in English to me, but mostly I sat in silence with them talking and laughing away in German. I had to make an effort to start a conversation as they weren't interested in doing so. It felt a bit rude, given that they all spoke good English, but I guess that's just what some people do. And that's the luck of the draw in situations like this - on my last visit there I'd had an interesting table with a few couples from different parts of the world and it was far more fun and less awkward! After supper the Germans disappeared and I sat in the sitting room and the Icelandic group began to play some music - with one woman on an accordion and all of the others singing in harmony. They were singing old, traditional Icelandic music and it was quite delightful. Borgar and Elin sat nearby drinking a glass of wine - exhausted from the two sittings of dinner. It's certainly not an easy job running a guesthouse like that with room for up to about 25 people - non-stop work to do!

A little later on I decided to head out to see if I could see any northern light action as it was still supposed to be fairly active. It wasn't too cloudy, although the moon was due to rise fairly early, which might ruin any viewing. There were some vaguely visible lights all around me, but the almost-full moon was definitely making it difficult to see them. The camera captured a little more than I could see.

The moon itself looked quite stunning, and for a moment it reflected in a couple of the braids in the river. I think this was my favourite shot from the whole day!

I headed back in just before 1am and set my alarm for a reasonable 8am breakfast - none of this early-up-for-sunrise (again). Another wonderful day in Iceland!

My route on Day 2

Click here for the blog from Day 1 - Driving to Hraunfossar
Click here for the blog from Day 3 - Hrífunes to Jökulsárlón

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.