Iceland November 2015 - Day 9: From Vík to Álftanes

I didn't have a great distance to drive on my last day in Iceland - just under 200km - but there were always places I wanted to stop, so it took longer than it would take a normal person.

First stop was Reynisfjara beach, where I was hoping the skies would throw me some decent light. It was a typical day - heavy grey clouds with short, sharp showers lasting a couple of minutes each and passing quickly on. Sometimes good for photography, but not so great when they hit you. There was one other car in the parking lot when I arrived, a good hour before sunrise. It wasn't particularly cold, but I knew it was likely to rain, so was wrapped up in my waterproofs. I was still using the spare camera, with the 5D in its home of basmati for a few more days.

There were some good moody clouds in the distance, coming quickly towards me, with sheets of visible rain getting closer and closer. When the storm was about to hit I rushed back to the car to sit it out for a few minutes. It was over quickly, and kept myself and the 60D relatively dry.

Then it was back out on to the beach where I mainly photographed the waves, with the ever-grey clouds in the distance. Soon the crowds started arriving, and by the time I left at 9.45am it was heaving.

I couldn't resist another glimpse of the crashed DC3, and now the track was marked I felt safe that I wasn't driving illegally off-road (the fines are enormous!). As I pulled up a couple of hundred feet from the plane another couple of cars were already there, as usual. I later learnt that it's been featured in a Justin Bieber video (he skateboards on top of it, for God's sake!) which means that it will be visited more and more. On the right hand wing some new graffiti has appeared since my last visit, and I presume that there will be even more when I next see it. There were some weird blueish clouds in the sky, with the sun trying to break through.

I tried a few long exposures, but the clouds weren't really going in the right direction, and the bright patches of cloud blew out parts of most images.

A few pairs of people came and went, as did a couple of showers. I stayed a while, as I always do, and am very glad I did, as the sky suddenly beamed down on the hills in the distance, glowing orange, and gave me one of my favourite views (and shots) of the whole trip. As I said, the light in Iceland can be magical. I also love to be there alone, not watching couples scurrying around taking selfies all the time and clambering over the poor skeleton.

I wandered back to the car and sun poured tiny rays over the sea before it started to rain again. Onwards.

Next stop was Skógafoss, which I usually make a brief stop at when I drive along the south coast. It was particularly busy, teeming with people in brightly-coloured waterproof jackets. There was no sun to give a rainbow, and it began to spit. Always nice to have to worry about not only the spray from the waterfall, but also rain droplets from the sky too. I took a few shots, playing around with various filters and exposure lengths, before continuing on.

 

I thought about stopping at the pretty rocks out in the bay again, but the light was drab, so I just carried on with my westward drive. I stopped at the side of the road to capture Seljalandsfoss in the drizzle and continued onwards.

I drove on through the towns of Hvolsvöllur and Hella, the traffic thickening as I headed west, and made a left turn down to Urriðafoss. I wasn't surprised to find five other cars there (usually there's one or two, or maybe none) - everywhere else is so busy these days so why not here? I was surprised, however, to find that there were lots of new signs and ropes cordoning off the pathway. One sign stated that you weren't allowed to go across to the island. Because of the large amount of recent rain the water levels in the river were high, so access would have been impossible anyway. I'd loved clambering over there on previous visits - the view from the little island was my favourite. I guess the Icelandic rescue services are fed up with having to come to the help of tourists and photographers who've slipped over and hurt themselves in these places. I imagine it's now in the Lonely Planet guidebook too - it doesn't even get a mention in my 15 year-old one. I wandered along the path and took a few shots, but still the light was grey and there was an irritating light drizzle. I spoke to another photographer who was trying his luck without a tripod - not ideal in this light. He was from Texas, so we had a chat about how my in-laws were from there. It was his second trip to Iceland - when most people come once, I find, they have to come back.

It is quite a tricky waterfall to photograph - with no perfect spot along the bank to capture the whole scene (as I said, the view is better from the island slightly downstream, inaccessible today). The sun came out briefly so at least the hills on the far bank looked a bit brighter. Then it was gone and everything looked drab again, so I concentrated on photographing the wave movements over the shallow rocks (cropped and saturation altered a little in post-production!).

And then it was on my way to Álftanes, where Johannes' coffee and Sigrún's sushi were awaiting me. I'd done that same journey before and knew it took about an hour, and this time I knew exactly how to get there too. There was nothing else to see along the way, and I didn't even bother going into Reykjavík to see the Sólfar sculpture (a first), since the weather was grim. I reached Álftanes at around 4pm as the light was fading. It's always lovely to be welcomed by friends after 9 days of pretty much talking to no-one, or just grabbing three minutes of conversation with other photographers a couple of times a day. Sigrún was busy making dozens of pieces of sushi and rolls - this was the first time I'd had home-made sushi before! Johannes told me how upset their son was when he found out on Sunday morning that they were having sushi (it's his favourite!) but that they'd have to wait until I arrived in the evening. It was worth waiting for!

After a lovely evening of sushi and catching up we all went to bed early. I had to get up just after 5am in order to get to the airport and drop the car off before my early morning flight home. As I opened the front door to pack the car the first thing I noticed was how cold it was (something I hadn't really experienced on the whole trip). The car was covered in beautiful ice. I looked up and noticed some pale green lights in the sky - the northern lights were up to see me off! Once I'd loaded the car I got out a store card to scrape the ice off the windscreen. It took longer than I thought and it was truly freezing. I eventually scraped enough to be able to drive and drove the car a little way along the road to where there was a gap in the street lights. The big tripod was safely back with its owners and the little tripod was packed away, so the only option was to balance the camera on the roof of the car, propped up slightly on my purse! It didn't exactly work, but I managed to get a last shot of the northern lights before continuing on - hands frozen - to the airport.

I was disappointed with the newly renovated airport departure lounge - the fantastic sculpture had gone, and the Icelandic coffee and food places had been replaced with international chains. At least the duty free shop stocked some of my lovely Borg beer, so I picked up a 6-pack of the Icelandic Stout to take home to the hubby (and the usual blueberry and birch liqueurs). The plane took off on time and I was treated to a beautiful view of the sunrise over the lovely freshly-snow-covered hills along the south coast - I could even see the stacks at Reynisdrangar. After days of pretty dreadful weather and no snow it was so frustrating to see the country looking beautiful and white-capped, with clear skies above. Oh well, that's just the way it goes - you're always dependent on the weather and you have to take what you're given! 

It had been a great trip, but I felt it went by too quickly - mainly because of the short daylight hours. Everything felt a bit rushed during the day, as I had to pack my photography into fewer hours. The weather was a bit disappointing too; I don't think I'd go back in November. The magical cold winter's light was missing, and hills weren't white yet, the ground wasn't frosty and the waterfalls weren't frozen. It just wasn't cold enough for me, and I realised that this is what I love about my winter trips - the feeling of crisp cold air through my nostrils and the warmth of getting back inside after a long shoot. There were still a few late autumnal leaves, though, the weather certainly wasn't as harsh as it is later in the winter, and I'd had a good show of the northern lights, so it wasn't bad. But I'll save my winter trips for late February and March next time. In fact the next trip needs to be booked - it might be a short one -with friends - in March, so fingers crossed that the weather Gods will be a little kinder.

For Day 8 blog - Höfn to Vík click here

Back to Japan - Day 9, Part 1: Tsukiji Fish Market

I first visited Tsukiji fish market in Tokyo back in 2004, on my first visit to the city. Things were very different then; while it was reasonably well-known, the crowds of tourists hadn't really discovered it and you were able to just rock up on your own and wander around at leisure, trying not to get in anyone's way. From memory, I'd got an expensive taxi there at about 5.30am and caught the end of the frozen tuna auction (the fresh one was earlier; too early). Now things are a lot different - get there after 4.13am (or possibly earlier) and you'll miss the opportunity to have an early-morning visit to see the spectacle of the auction and all the prodding and sampling that goes on prior to it.

I first read the official guidance on the market's website, which basically said that you had to be there at 5.00am in order to register. 120 visitors were allowed each day, split into two tour groups - the first would visit the market from 5.25am until 5.50am and the second from 5.50am until 6.15am. I decided to check a few blogs to see if this was still the case and for any further guidance on timing and queues and read a few stories of people showing up at 4.30am and all of the slots had already been filled. You needed to get there before 4am, one blog suggested. It would be pretty annoying to get up super-early, get yourself there, only to find you were 15 minutes too late. Part of my strategy for visiting the market was to stay as close as possible, which meant that we only had to walk for 5 or so minutes to the entrance (we'd been given a map and instructions on how to get there by the hotel). The other strategy was to just get there as early as possible - if we were going to get up in the middle of the night, half an hour less sleep wasn't going to make much difference.

It was still a struggle though, as we pulled on our clothes at just after 3am and headed out into the mild night. Being the rainy season meant that tourist numbers were relatively low, so we were confident of securing a place. We met an Israeli guy walking along the road who was also on his way; he'd cycled and tied his bike up nearby. The entrance wasn't well marked, but there were some security men guiding us to the brightly-lit office. As we went in we put our names on a list and were handed yellow high-vis vests to put on. We went into a room, where there were already about thirty people already waiting; the two at the front were standing, eager to get to the auction action as quickly as possible and get the best view. It was 3.25am; we had another 2 hours of waiting before that was possible. People arrived regularly and by 3.50am the first group was full. The next people arriving got blue vests and came in quickly; by 4.13am it was full! Given the advice on the website says registration is at 5am there must've been some annoyed people showing after 4.13am! (I just read a review on TripAdvisor by someone arriving at 3.45am on a Saturday morning and it being full already). People chatted, took photos, but generally it was a dull wait, sitting on the floor of a holding room, checking the clock regularly.

Finally at 5.20am (after 2 hours of waiting) we were led out across the market roads, dodging motorised trolleys and carts hurtling past, before arriving in a tiny corridor between two tuna areas which was our viewing spot for the next 20-25 minutes.

On either side were rows of steaming frozen tuna with the ends of their tails cut away from the bodies for the salesmen to test the quality of the fish. The men pottered about in their wellies, prodding the flesh with hooks, rubbing bits between their fingers, tasting some, shining flashlights on the flesh to examine the quality more closely, scribbling notes down, discussing with colleagues. These men were buying tuna for some of the world's best restaurants, so it was a serious (and lucrative) business. It was as I'd remembered, only this time I wasn't able to just wander through the rows of tuna at my whim. I switched lenses to try to capture different views, but it was challenging with little light (high ISO so grainy photos).

After a short while on the other side of the corridor a man rang a bell and the auction started. We couldn't really see much (good view of other peoples' iPhones videoing it), but there wasn't much to see anyway - one man stood with his hands moving about, shouting numbers and prices (presumably), while salesmen raised their hands and shouted back.

When it was over our time was up and we were ushered out into the daylight, back across the busy roads, to the entrance where we gave back our vests and headed off. Visitors were allowed back into the market after about 9am. We said our goodbyes to the Israeli guy, took a few last photos, and then headed back to the hotel for a few hours' more sleep.

We were up again at 9am and went back to the market, to catch the end of the morning's activity. Most of the stalls inside the market were closing shop, cleaning up the remains, doing the books, readying the place for the following night's work. It was quite calm in there now, and still fascinating, watching men sharpen knives (gave the hubby a few ideas), heads being chopped off massive frozen tuna bodies, huge crates of ice being delivered, buckets of fish remains, and a few beautiful fish still on show for sale. The market is moving next year, I believe, to a purpose-built building on the outskirts of the city - it'll be interesting to see if they make provision for visitors (building a viewing gallery, perhaps), and whether people will still go if it's miles away. It'll be a sad end of an era, as the market is quite unique. Here's a selection of shots from our hour milling around the market.

Eventually we headed out and back to the outer market streets, looking for a place for a sushi breakfast, past the stalls selling all sorts of things.

Some places had lines of tourists outside (presumably the places in the Lonely Planet or TripAdvisor) but we found one a bit further out that was quieter and we went straight in. It wasn't nearly as good as Sushisay, which was disappointing. We also tried a few more adventurous items, like sea urchin and some dried roe that made us gag, before wandering back to the hotel to pack and check out, before heading across the city for the next part of our Tokyo adventure.