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

Iceland 2014 - Day 8: Vik to Reykjavik

I woke up really early in my beautiful hotel room in Vik, feeling sad as it was my last full day in Iceland and knowing that I had to leave the south coast behind and head back to Reykjavik. I got dressed and headed out to Vik beach, a short drive away. 

The last time I'd driven to that beach was on my last day the previous year when the small town was covered with snow. This time it was grey, the air heavy with moisture. The clear skies forecast had again failed to materialise.

I was surprised to find that I was the only person there when I arrived, in spite of the presence of another car in the car-park. I plonked my tripod down on the beach and became mesmerised by the waves breaking over the occasional large, smooth black pebble as the water returned to the sea towards the beguiling stacks on the horizon. There was no dawn/pre-sunrise glow as the clouds were too dense, but after the sun had officially risen (behind those clouds) a break in the cloud appeared on the horizon allowing a small amount of colour to light up some of the otherwise grey clouds in the distance. The colours were subtle, but worth getting up for, I decided.

Half an hour after my arrival a van of photographers arrived, all settling into similar spots no doubt to take similar photographs, I imagined (I shouldn't judge as I'd never been on one of these organised photo tours, but I couldn't really imagine anything worse (photography-wise)). This year there were no interesting patterns of snow and hail on the beach, no dusting of snow on the black hills beyond, no sunlight glinting subtley on those hills, and no oyster catchers at the shoreline to amuse me. Just the sea. Even that was fairly tame, compared with my first visit there two years earlier; I will never forget the noise of the gargantuan waves breaking against the black pebbles and dragging them back with them (quite deafening, it was!).

Just after the photographers arrived it started to rain. I'd seen the responsible clouds coming in from the east for a while, and as sure as it always does in Vik (for me, anyway), it rained. I continued on for a while until my gloves were soaked and my feet cold. I had a tight schedule again, with an arrangement to meet my Icelandic friends Sigrún and Johannes at their house just outside Reykjavik between 4 and 5pm, which meant that I had limited time in some places. I headed back to the hotel, and tucked into the cold pizza - surprisingly good (and useful as I'd irritatingly left my Skyr and granola (not to mention the remaining ham and cheese) in the fridge at Hali). Out of the enormous window I watched kittiwakes on the bird cliff behind - it was a great view, but I hoped it didn't affect them, having this massive hotel with bright lights just in front of them.

I then had what I can only describe as the best shower I'd ever had (a rain-shower head a foot in diameter with a separate hand-held head for rinsing my hair). It was the only place I'd stayed on the trip that provided decent shampoo and shower gel in a little bottle; all that the other guesthouses had provided (in shared bathrooms) was generic "hair and body wash" (hint: always take your own shampoo and conditioner if you're staying in guesthouses!). After about 10 or 15 minutes of wallowing under the hot waterfall I eventually packed up my stuff and headed out through the strangely half-finished hotel to the car to continue on my journey west.

My next stop was Reynisfjara; there was no way that I could visit the Vik area without popping in on my favourite basalt-column-cliffed beach, in spite of the dull grey skies. As I pulled in a coach was just pulling out (it was later than I'd thought) and the beach was - briefly - mine. For the first time ever I was there at low tide, and was able to walk around the edge of the basalt columns and have a look up in awe at the caves. The beach wasn't gouged out as it had been last year. Soon a few other people arrived, climbing up onto the columns for photos; I took a couple of self-portraits too (in the blue jacket series!).

It was 10.45am before I left the basalt beach behind and continued on my journey westwards. My next stop was one of my most exciting ones: somewhere new, and somewhere a little bit risky. I'd read about a crashed United States Navy DC 3 that lay on the black sands just past Vik, 2km south of the ring road. I'd found someone's blog which showed exactly where it was (thank you vividscapes!), and although I didn't want to pay to get the GPRS on my iPhone, I'd pinpointed the site on Google Maps and taken pictures of the map, and looked on Google Street View to familiarise myself with the exact location of the turn-off (you can also see the plane if you zoom right in on Google Maps). In the end it was easy enough to find as someone else turned off the road just as I approached and then in the distance two vehicles came towards us, so we knew we were on the right track. I overtook the car in front, as they were pootling along very slowly, and in my slightly higher 4WD I was able to coast along over the black sand, following the previous visitors' tracks.

After a couple of kilometres the surface of the flat black sand began undulating a little and again I was glad to have the car I had (in spite of the ongoing irritation with the failing remote starting mechanism, which made me curse every time I tried to start the damn thing). After a few ups and downs over the bumpy track the ominous vision of the crashed plane loomed into view, strangely white-looking against a back-drop of black sands and dark clouds. I parked nearby, got out and started photographing the magnificent ruin before the other car arrived. It was spitting, so the filters had to be wiped off after every few shots.

The engines and the wingtips had been removed, but the shell was in pretty good condition, with wires and pieces of the ripped fuselage dangling and swaying slightly in the wind. Graffiti covered the plane's body, visitors wanting to leave their mark. The other car arrived, they took a few photos and soon drove off again (check!). I was there for about an hour, during which time about 4 or 5 other jeeps arrived, including a super-jeep with the huge blown-up wheels, which whizzed over the sand, dumped its passengers for a quick stop, a wander around and through the plane, a few photos, before whizzing away, bumping over the wavy black sand towards the sea nearby.

As I was there the light rain eventually stopped and the sun even came out briefly. There were still reasonably fast-moving clouds with good contrast, so I put on my 10-stop filter and did a couple of long exposures (since converted to black and white). I loved the place; especially after everyone else had gone and it was just me, my car, my camera and the majestic ruined plane.

 

 

I had to tear myself away; the time was right for the sun to shine on Skogafoss not far away, according to the trusted Photographer's Ephemeris (TPE). The journey back over the sand was easy too, following the tracks my car and others had made, heading towards the hills inland. I easily reached the track that led back on to the Route 1 and off I went towards the falls. It was still pretty cloudy, but as soon as I reached Skogafoss the skies had cleared to the north, and the sun had come out, creating an amazing rainbow to the side of the falls! Previously I'd seen the falls under mist, rain, drizzle, shade and generally grey skies. To see it - finally - in its full glory, with the sun reflecting in the spray, was a great privilege. As I parked I noticed some brightly-coloured outfits glinting in the sunshine and as I got out of the car I realised that a tai chi class was about to begin, made up mainly of children; it was quite a bizarre - if fortuitous - event to stumble upon. After the earlier sights of the day, made up of brown, black, grey and white, it was great to see not only the colourful outfits, but also the rainbow and the blue sky behind.

 

The falls looked much more beautiful and picturesque than I'd seen them before, if a little chocolate-boxy. I took a number of photos, playing around with the filters (which again had to be wiped after every couple of shots). The rainbow was pretty impressive and pretty intense, and a second one could just be seen. The spray, however (the reason for the rainbow) was coming forward and making it tricky for all the photographers to get a shot clear from tiny water-droplets. I took a few more self-portraits in the blue jacket before tearing myself away.

The other striking waterfall along the coast is Seljalandfoss, but I knew I'd be arriving too early for the best of the light (most of the falls would be in shadow). True enough, just the top of the falls poked out from the shadow of the steep cliffs, so I stopped only briefly to get a sandwich and visit the loo before heading on (didn't take a single photo, which is very unlike me!). I'd visited it the previous year when the time of day and light conditions had been perfect, so didn't feel the need to take a bunch of sub-par shots here!

The rest of the drive back to Reykjavik is a little disappointing, after the grandeur of the scenery further east, but at least I didn't feel the need to pull over at the side of the road every five minutes; the sky was filled with high clouds and the light was poor, so it was just as well. The only other stop I had planned between there and Reykjavik was Urriðafoss, one of my favourite waterfalls in the country, and one that's barely in the guidebooks. I kept expecting to come to it, as I reached the tops of hills, as I had a vague memory of where it was from last year. Finally I turned the bend, went over the bridge (it sits just downstream from the main road where it crosses a massive river), and took the left turn down to the parking area. A couple of cars were there when I arrived, but pulled away as I got out. I walked along the path downstream from the falls to get to the little rocky hill that sits below them and from where the view is best. A huge slab of snow sat upon some rocks at the top of one of the falls. The water was as intensely green as I'd remembered, presumably from the glacial waters that it carried down to the sea.

The falls, unusually, had looked better with grey skies the previous year, but I managed a few shots, trying out - as always - a combination of filters and shutter speeds. I left just as the sun disappeared behind more clouds, at 4pm - meaning that I'd be lucky to get to my destination past Reykjavik by 5pm. The traffic always picks up at Selfoss, not far from Urriðafoss, but it wasn't bad and there were no major delays, other than a little slower driving up the enormous hill past Hveragerði. The pass takes you up onto a high plain where last year I'd met driving snow. This year there was just old snow lying on the ground, but the road was clear and my journey to Hafnarfjordur was a quick and easy one. Again, I'd taken pictures on my iPhone of the directions to my friends' house, and managed to follow these without much problem, and arrived on the quaint peninsula of Alftanes at 5pm on the dot. It was great to see Sigrún and Johannes and their two young children, who'd moved back there from London last summer. We scoffed delicious waffles that Sigrún had just made, smothered in strawberry jam and whipped cream and then the children ran around the house giggling like crazy; they were displaying "guest behaviour" Johannes told me (there's a word for it in Icelandic which roughly amounts to a cross between playing up and showing off!).

As the light began to fade and sunset neared I headed back in to Reykjavik, having left it just a little too late for the best of the sunset. I stopped briefly opposite their house at a small beach before parking near the Solfar back in town, now able to navigate my routes in Reykjavik much more ably (I have got lost there on a number of occasions previously). I should have stopped at the pond, where the sun was falling directly behind and the swans and ducks pottered about on the ice, but I didn't stop in time and it was too far to walk back from my parking spot. The light wasn't very interesting at Solfar so I wandered along to Harpa, the magnificent theatre and opera house. The remaining light on the clouds reflected in Harpa's many windows as hoards of people arrived to enjoy a Saturday night out there.

I wandered back past Solfar for one last look before driving the very short distance to my accommodation, the Welcome Apartments, where I'd stayed a few times before. I'd hoped to meet up with another friend, but hadn't managed to get hold of him, so I headed out to Café Solon, alone as usual, with my iPhone for company (with free WiFi and an iPhone, who needs friends?!). The skies were clear but the forecast for northern lights wasn't great, so I headed to bed just before midnight, hoping to get up bright and early for a last sunrise at Solfar. As it happens the lights were apparently quite good, but I was so exhausted there was no way I could have gone out in search of them again.

Click here for Day 7 blog
Click here for Day 9 blog