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

Iceland #14 - Day 8: Jökulsárlón yet again...

Day 8 of my trip was my final full day at Jökulsárlón, and I planned to spend as much of the daylight hours as possible down on the beach among the icebergs.

I got to the beach just before 8.30am, after the short drive there from Reynivellir (it's so close!). Already there were other photographers dotted along the beach so it wasn't quite as serene as I'd hoped. Within ten minutes a couple of groups had arrived and it felt rather busy. I wandered along the east beach looking for some good icebergs for sunrise (the skies were fairly clear, with the exception of the usual snowstorm cloud on the horizon (every day they were there!)). I tried out a few compositions of a couple of icebergs as the sky became a little pink - it was rather lovely.

I met my new German friend from the guesthouse, Annette, who set up her tripod nearby. As the sun began to break over the clouds, photographers were still rushing past, trying to find a good spot. Annette and I had spoken about how some photographers can be completely unaware of their surroundings or fellow togs and just walk straight in front of your shot, etc. This clueless behaviour was definitely on display this morning, and I called out to a woman who was about to walk right in front of me, not only getting in my shot, but also creating ugly footprints in the currently-pristine sand. Crisis averted, she eventually walked behind me she made some comment about it being easier to walk on the wet sand. Annette and I both shook our heads and rolled our eyes! I know the beach is for everyone, but have some common sense and courtesy!

The sun disappeared again briefly so I moved back to the other two icebergs and stayed there for a while. It was a glorious morning. The sun flares were an issue, as usual when shooting straight into the sun, and it wasn't easy to block it out to take shots to merge, so I just went with it.

The sun rose up above the cloud and soon it was broad daylight again. Most of the photographers left pretty soon after, which was nice for me, as I find that too many others mars the tranquility (er, see below!).

At least as the people were in groups when they left a large number of people went at the same time. I wandered around among the icebergs away from the surf and took a few detail shots, finding one particular berg that I was fascinated by - parts of it reminded me of a biological picture of an eye socket.

If only time would just stand still when I'm there. But instead it seems to pass at double-time! I put the macro lens on and started capturing some weird close-ups - it's amazing what the lens can see, and how a shift in focus can create some wonderful colours and patterns. It's a different world!

Or course in this light I had to take some wave shots - the turquoise and greens so beautiful as they caught the morning sunlight as they raised before the break. I adore playing with the waves, with different filters and speed, handheld to get some intentional movement, on the tripod to get distinct islands on the horizon with long exposure waves. By this point all of the other photographers had moved on, swayed by the don't-take-photos-in-the-midday-sun rule, but personally I think the light was incredible and they were seriously missing out. I could literally spend all day, just capturing those, if there weren't icebergs around to distract me [note to self: if, on future trips, there are no icebergs, then be happy with the waves (as long as the light is decent though)!]. Here's a small selection (I think some of these will end up as canvass prints on my bathroom wall).

A massive iceberg drifted past which would later be broken up and dumped on the beach. I took a few more shots of the ones I'd captured for sunrise, which seemed like hours ago (it was!). I walked along the beach to the west as I noticed that the huge iceberg that I'd seen in the waves had already been dumped onto the beach and was being battered by the waves, broken into three pieces.

With the sun fully out there were some great shadows and reflections of little icebergs (and stones!) on the beach.

At about 12.30pm I decided to head back to the guesthouse, as I was cold, thirsty and hungry - as usual - and the second battery was about to die. It always takes me longer to reach the car than it should as I end up stopping on the way back. Oooh, just a couple more shots of this iceberg. Oooh, look at that lovely shadow. Oooh, a few more wave shots. Oooh, look at those icicles dripping from that iceberg! Etcetera!

As I got back to the car I was extremely disappointed to notice some graffiti on the bridge. Why would someone come to such an incredible place as this and think it was okay to write their f***ing names on the bridge?! I despair of some people :(

I got back to the guesthouse at 1pm - having been on the beach for four and a half hours. Not my maximum, but still a pretty good session! Batteries were plugged in, photos downloaded, and food, water and tea were consumed. I didn't head back to the beach until 4pm, by which stage the blue skies were gone and it was grey and dull. It wasn't very busy, as there was clearly going to be no sunset, but I still headed away from the car-park to get more solitude.

There were a few icebergs scattered about in the surf line, so I stopped to capture a few water trails and iceberg still lives.

I could see the large dark iceberg pieces in the distance, so trudged through the sand to reach it. On the way I passed a rabbit :) The colours were getting tricky to capture, as the light was so flat and grey.

I reached the dark bergs and found that there was really just a skeleton left, with the majority of the ice washed away by repetitive bashing by waves. It was difficult to photograph as the waves kept moving them around as they flowed over and around them - and I hate moving icebergs in my shots! I desaturated the shots too as the colour was a horrible greeny-blue (see rabbit shot above!).

Eventually I turned round, passing one other photographer, and headed back to the car. Which obviously took longer than expected as I continued to stop and take just one more photo...

 

When the light was almost gone, it began to get rather chilly and started to snow, so I called it a day and drove the short distance home. The snow had got heavier as I drove back, but it wasn't completely dark so it was still easy enough driving. Had I not know where the turn-off to Reynivellir was, though, it would've been another matter, as visibility was getting more and more limited. At least the snow gave me some grip in the icy driveway as I walked from the car to the house (I was still taking it very slowly). I cooked some pasta (a bit more interesting with tuna and cheese this time) and chatted to three friendly young American women from Michigan. I was aware we were making quite a lot of noise, and my German friends were in the room above, so cut off the conversation short and headed back to my room to go through the hundreds of photos. It had been another lovely day in Jökulsárlón, although the light in the afternoon had been disappointing, and the icebergs weren't as incredible as I've seen them before. The weather forecast was for more snow and heavy cloud, so I decided to give sunrise the following morning a miss and set the alarm for 9am.

Click here for my blog from Day 7 - Stafafell to Jökulsárlón