Iceland #10 - Day 10: A Stormy Drive Back to Reykjavik (and home)

I woke up on the morning of my final full day in Iceland to the sound of the storm overhead. The intensity would come and go a little, rattling the doors of the guesthouse at its strongest. I had a huge breakfast, stuffing myself with delicious home-made malty bread. All of the guests hung around, not quite sure when it was going to be safe to leave. It was a perfect place to sit and wait for the weather to improve though, with lots of nice people to chat to, a warm log fire, as well as tea and coffee on tap. Eventually the winds did die down and one-by-one the guests departed - heading out nervously. I left at about 1pm, hoping to get to Reykjavik by 5pm (usually it's a 2-hour drive, but with stops and taking it slowly that would hopefully work).

I wasn't expecting to take many photos that day, as even though the winds would drop, it was still forecast to be stormy all day. The rain was blown around by the wind, so taking any photos without getting the lens covered in raindrops would be challenging, and use of a tripod was definitely out of the question. I drove cautiously down the road to the ring-road, but it wasn't too gusty - just a constant wind and precipitation coming and going. My first stop was just past Vík, at the turn-off to the skimobile place, as I saw some crepuscular rays to the south. I pulled on the raincoat and hat, crossed the road and took a couple of shots of the road, hills and the rays. There was pretty good visibility, considering, so at least some of the mountains were on show. The rain was slanted at this point, so it was possible to keep the lens dry for a few shots, using the zoom lens with the long hood on.

Next stop was Skógafoss. I've seen these falls many times, and usually stop there once on each trip. It can be very crowded - especially with coach-loads of English geography field trip students, and it can look very dull in grey weather, with blown-out white skies above. I'd noticed a little road on the far side of the river on my last trip, so decided to give the usual parking area a miss and head down there, to see if I could get a different - or better - viewpoint. I liked the view, but even with the 1.4x extender I couldn't quite get as close as I'd have liked. The surrounding landscape was that yellowy-brown grass, that really needs to be hidden under a good covering of snow (or converted to black and white), and from that point there was too much of it in view. What I did notice, though, was that the wind was blowing the waterfalls upwards. Fortunately it was blowing westward, so the visitors who made the effort to climb up to the viewpoint (I did that on my very first visit and haven't bothered since) weren't getting drenched. It was quite striking, and looks even more so converted into black and white.

I was quite fascinated by the upwards falls, so ended up driving back to the usual parking area to get a closer look.

I think this looks like a man about to punch the waterfall...

As usual it was quite busy, but people came and went, and occasionally just a couple of people would be standing in front of the falls.

While I was there I noticed that the sky had begun to brighten slightly behind me to the south, and for about 3 minutes the clouds parted, the sun came out, blue skies appeared from nowhere behind the falls and the sun shone brightly, giving a lovely brief rainbow. Everyone was delighted! Having looked drab and dull, suddenly it looked glorious.

Within a couple of minutes the sun was gone, and off I went.

The rain and hail and sleet and wind returned. Or rather I drove through it. I stopped very briefly at Seljalandsfoss to use the loo, took a couple of shots of people battling the sleet, and then headed onwards.

Just after I left I drove through the most unbelievably intense shower, with gusty winds and snow coming straight at me. It went on for a few minutes and I felt quite relieved once I'd driven through it. I pulled the car over to capture the storm as it retreated; sun shone on the mountaintops in the distance.

I stopped a little further on to photograph some trees, and a few other times to capture visible rain storms passing in the distance (there were a few).

I was a little nervous about the big hill past Hveragerði and the high pass beyond. When I'd been manically checking the road conditions and weather sites before I set off that was one area that was marked with "storm" conditions. The big sweeping dual carriageway that winds up around the hill was surprisingly clear of traffic (and snow) - just a couple of other cars and me; fortunately no high-sided trucks (they don't seem to drive on weekends and hopefully they also have rules about not driving in windy weather!). At the top the road and roadside were pretty snowy, and I passed a snow plough a little further on, that was presumably just driving up and down that stretch of the road all day. It was no longer snowing and the wind had died away, so apart from a bit of snow on the road, which I was used to, the conditions weren't too bad at all. I'd definitely made the right choice to leave later as I'd clearly missed the worst of it.

I gave Reykjavík a miss and headed straight to Álftanes, where I was expected at around 5pm at Sigrún and Johannes' for supper. The promise of Sigrún's Thai fish soup had been driving me forward all day long (I'd eaten nothing since breakfast)! I arrived on the peninsula a little early so took a little drive to the east side along an unmade road to get a better view of the enormous storm clouds that were passing over the city in the distance. I could just make out the Hallsgrímkirkja, the highest building in Reykjavik (not the tallest from the ground, but its peak is higher than any of the new skyscrapers built on lower ground along the waterfront).

Behind me another storm was coming in and it was great to watch the patches of rain fall in the distance. I knew it would reach me soon, so I got back in the car and headed back towards the west side. I stopped the car at one point as the storm hit me to try to capture the ferocity of the sleet as it hammered the car and road ahead of me.

It's always lovely to get back to see these friends after a trip around their beautiful country, and obviously I was particularly happy to be greeted by the adorable Jökull (the kitten), who was as affectionate as ever. The fish soup was so delicious that I had three bowls. This was then followed by an even more delicious apple and pear crumble with a walnut crumble and home-made vanilla ice-cream. Again I had three helpings and then felt ridiculously over-full for the rest of the evening! It is very nice to have a friend who is an extremely talented cook! I had a relatively early night as I had to get up at 5am in order to drive back to the airport for my early flight home. The kitten slept on top of me all night.

The weather was dreadful again, and this time I was happy to leave (on my last visit I awoke to a beautiful crisp cold day - and northern lights - and was miserable to be leaving).

I dropped off the car - thanking them again for swapping it on the first day for one with a music system (a trip-saver!) - and fortunately there was no damage (always a relief, especially after the blowing sand at Stokksnes and the bumpy drive to the DC3). They dropped me off at the terminal and I checked in, had a delicious breakfast of an open prawn sandwich at the remaining Icelandic café, and stocked up on my favourite stout. We had to walk across the runway in the blowing rain for a short distance to get to our plane, which seemed a little strange - as well as unpleasant! Fortunately I still had my hat with me, but my other Iceland-weather-proof gear was packed away. My seat was at the emergency exit next to the door, so was also covered in rain. I stood around waiting for the last passenger before wiping the rain off it!

I sat next to a lovely American woman who had just got engaged (her fiancé sat behind) and we shared a wonderful couple of hours chatting about our lives. I always meet fantastic people on my flights to and from Iceland.

I took a few shots out of the window along the way, although Iceland was covered in cloud as we left. Above the clouds it was glorious and there were some cool brocken spectres of the plane as we descended through light clouds into Gatwick.

The weather in London was delightful and I was glad to get home to my boys and start the mammoth task of sorting through the thousands of photos I'd taken!

It had been a pretty successful trip, and it had been great to have a proper weekend break with hubby and friends to start with (I really enjoyed playing tour guide in this country I love so much). I'd had some great weather, particularly on my drive east from Jökulsarlón, but no really spectacular sunrises or sunsets. I'd seen the northern lights on three occasions - with the most amazing display on the 4th night, which after my first couple of trips of seeing nothing is always good. The icebergs on Jökulsárlón beach - or rather lack thereof - had been my biggest disappointment of the trip. But that's the thing I love about Iceland and my road-trips there - every visit is different: the weather, the snow, the ice, the light, the experiences I have, and that makes me want to return again and again - to see it in yet another different light again.

Click here for my blog from Day 9 - Driving West to Hrifunes

Iceland #10 - Day 7: A Glorious Drive East

Some days in Iceland are just utterly glorious. The seventh day of my tenth trip was one such day. It started early, after very little sleep, but that didn't stop me trying to make the most of it. First stop was to visit the beach, before heading off to the east, where I was staying in a new cabin.

The weather forecast was good, and the skies were almost completely clear of cloud, apart from little ones on or just above the horizon. I got to the beach at 7.30am - a little later than hoped - to find quite a scattering of icebergs above the shoreline. Occasional waves would wash over the bergs, but mostly they just sat on the black sand, looking magnificent.

There were already a number of other photographers there, and I got the usual slightly annoyed feeling of not having the place to myself and having to wait my turn to photograph certain icebergs.

I wanted to find the perfect ice for when the sun came above the clouds, but couldn't decide on one, so ended up walking east along the beach and photographing a few, none of which I wasn't all that happy with. I had the zoom lens on with various filter combinations, and nothing really worked. I got some nice results, but nothing as spectacular as I'd hoped. Had the beach been empty I'm sure I would've done better, but that - sadly - is the way it is on the beach at Jökulsárlón these days. Perhaps I should go in early January and hope for solitude...

Once the sun was up I wandered back towards the first and most impressive iceberg I'd found and took a few close-ups of the ice patterns.

The patterns were quite incredible and the some of the photos didn't even really look like ice.

I had my extension tubes with me so tried a few macro shots, but it's quite challenging to work out what to focus on and what aperture to use, since the icebergs have so much depth.

Eventually my back was aching from crouching down and I had set myself a time limit of 10am, so I headed back to Hali. I had to eat breakfast, shower, pack and check out by 11am, but didn't want to be too rushed. The morning light as I left was lovely, so it was sad to drag myself away, but the drive east beckoned. The weather always seems to be nice on the day I have to leave... Obviously I stopped a couple of times on the way back, as I always do.

I always feel sad leaving Hali - it's the one place in Iceland that feels a bit like home. As I walked in the place smelled strongly of rice, and in the kitchen was an enormous rice cooker. A group of Chinese guests had actually brought the cooker with them on holiday, as well as a selection of Tupperware containers and cooking pans. No wonder they have so much luggage with them! I had a nice relaxing breakfast, having a quick look through the sunrise and ice shots, before getting packed up and heading off. In spite of my sadness at leaving, I've become more and more fond of the area to the east of Hali and knew that today would continue to be wonderful. Near the car were frozen puddles with lovely ice patterns.

I stop at a couple of the same places on each trip now - the line of the trees, the favourite tree, the windy road past the tunnel, the cottage at Stafafell - but today the views were so stunning that I seemed to be pulling over every few kilometres. The snow-covered mountains above the stark black roads disappearing into the distance were just mesmerising. I had plenty of time (didn't have to check in at the Bragdavellir cottage until 4pm), and not all that far to drive, so it didn't matter how many stops I made. There were lots.

I was pleased to see my favourite trees still looking as lovely as usual.

I'd seen a lovely dark brown horse with white patches on my last trip, just where the ring-road takes a turn-off to the left (near Höfn) and hoped that it would be close to the road this time so I could get a few shots. The colour is called black skewbald or brúnskjóttur). It was there, but the light was in the wrong place. Its companions came up to me and tried to eat my glove.

As I approached the tunnel the reflection of Vestrahorn and other mountains in the fjords was incredible, so I pulled off near the Dynjandi guesthouse to get a few shots. A tour group was having a picnic in the sunshine.

After I set off again I considered turning off to visit Stokksnes (the beach from which you can see Vestrahorn) but decided to save it for the following day (or the next), since I'd be coming back this way then. I headed instead towards Hvalnes, stopping to capture the bendy road that comes from the tunnel and my little yellow cottage, where I'd be staying the next night.

As I drove further east I kept looking back to see Vestrahorn and Brunnhorn (the pointy mountain next to it) in the most magical light. There was a layer of sea fog on the horizon and scattered hazy clouds above, with the sun illuminating the frozen ground beneath. I must have stopped about 4 or 5 times to capture it, as Brunnhorn eventually disappeared in front of its bigger neighbour. I was transfixed!

I reached Hvalnes and couldn't believe how gorgeous the weather was; I don't think I've ever seen the mountain free of fog or mist before. I parked near the lagoon and wandered along the edge of the water for a while. The previous year I'd seen some wonderful ice bubbles patterns, but this time the lagoon beach was partially covered with snow and the water was frozen and covered in snow.


I then headed over the ridge and down to the ocean beach, completely alone. It was scattered with the usual detritus of shells and seaweed, but I was dismayed to see a plastic bottle with thick black oil had spilled onto the pebbles. There were lots of cool crab shells that looked a bit like skull and crossbones, which I hadn't seen before. Seabirds caught the sunlight as they flitted around the peaks of Eystrahorn above.

I wandered back to the car and took a few more shots on the other side of the road, where the frozen lagoon was a strange greeny-yellow colour, before driving around the corner to the parking area near the lighthouse.

The weather was just glorious: blue skies, no wind and really mild. I remembered a visit there the previous year where I'd had to shelter behind the small hill from gale force winds. And on my last visit when it rained and rained and rained all day. I took a few self-portrait shots (including a few silly ones), using the remote control, before heading onwards, keen to get past the scary bit of road (where there had been a few avalanches recently) and on to the cottage near Djúpivogur.

I was fairly nervous driving along the avalanche section, past huge piles of fallen snow and rock and smaller piles of freshly-fallen rock at the side of the road. There was a 4km section where the road is cut out of a very steep scree cliff, and is the only road I've driven on in Iceland with guardrails (for which I was thankful!). Soon I had passed the difficult section and from then on the roads were fine, undulating around hills and fjords. The sky had become more and more hazy as the afternoon wore on, and the further I drove east.

By the time I reached the turn-off to Bragdavellir I was on the edge of a patch of sea-fog that clung to the ground. I found my cottage and parked up as the sun was about to dip behind the ridge behind, with an outlook of fog to the front. The cottage was nice - one of 5 identical ones - with a lovely terrace at the front, which would make a lovely spot for an evening beer in summer. It had become much cooler as the sun disappeared. The internet in the cabin wasn't working, so I tried to call the owner, but got no answer. I wanted to know what the weather and aurora-forecast were doing, so I really wanted to get online. I should really have driven to Djúpivogur to see if it was clear of fog but was too exhausted after my lack of sleep the previous night. I took a few photos of the cabin, farm and trees nearby.

After hearing nothing for an hour and still no wifi I texted my hubby to ask him to email them. An hour later the owner came by and informed me that all the internet and 3G communications in the whole of the area were down, and that usually it would take a couple of hours to get fixed. As the skies darkened the area fell into a grey foggy mizzle.


I cooked some pasta, had a beer, downloaded photos and felt unbelievably tired, listening to the increasingly heavy rain outside. At 9pm I was just about to take myself to bed when the internet came back on. I spent an hour doing the usual social media stuff, chatted to hubby on Skype, and checked the forecasts. Unfortunately the weather was going to be poor until around 4pm the following day, so I wasn't sure what I was going to do, given that I'd have to check out by 11am, I only had a short drive back to Stafafell, where I could check in from around 3pm. I didn't fancy driving all the way back to the icebergs again - like on my last trip - so I felt a bit gloomy as I finally went to bed, listening to the wind and rain battering the cabin with increasing force.

Click here for my blog from Day 6: The Icebergs Return
Click here for my blog from Day 8: Rain, Rain and Then Vesturhorn