Iceland Feb 2015 - Day 5: Heading East to Stafafell

On each trip to Iceland I try to visit at least one new place. Last year I flew to the east and drove around the south-eastern fjords from Egilsstaðir. This year I didn't have any new destinations planned, but I had found a remote cabin that was about mid-way between Hvalnes and Stokksnes, so at least I was staying somewhere new. I had only passed through Hvalnes and Stokksnes very quickly last year, so on this trip I'd get a chance to explore the area a bit more, and was positioned so that I had the choice of each of them depending on the weather and my mood.

The plan for Day 5 was a nice lazy one - get up for a last sunrise at Jökulsárlón (obviously), back to Hali to pack and check out, and then make the relatively short drive east, past the turn-off to Höfn, through the tunnel and up to Stafafell to my cabin. Plus a visit to either Hvalnes or Stokksnes, depending on the weather.

I managed to get up early (out of the door by 8am), but after my late night appointment with the northern lights I hadn't got to sleep until about 2am and I woke up with a headache that felt remarkably similar to a hangover, even though I'd only had one beer once I got in. My head didn't hurt when I was out on the beach at Jökulsárlón, but as soon as I got back in the car and drove back to Hali I felt dreadful. I spent just under an hour and a half at the beach, knowing that I had to get back and pack, shower and be gone by 11am. The sunrise was quite impressive, with a few clouds reflecting red and pink, but I struggled to find any icebergs that I really liked; sadly the problem with most of my visits there this time around (no "Octopus" shot this time). As I drove back to Hali the skies lightened to a deep blue and the scattered clouds dispersed. It was a glorious day, although cloudless blue skies are a bit dull for photos (no pleasing some people!).

I always feel sad leaving Hali as it is one of my favourite places in Iceland. I have rather mixed emotions about it now, though, as it was there last year that I first felt the swelling in my armpit that led me to visit my GP, which was soon followed by a diagnosis of early breast cancer. Almost a year later, after various treatments, it definitely felt strange going back there with that memory and everything that had happened in between my visits. As I left I said "see you next year" to the Icelandic owner (who always gives me a funny little wink), hoping that the coming year would be a lot less eventful and without any nasty surprises.

I took the journey slowly, stopping quite a lot, but the headache was still nagging away. The roads were considerably less busy east of Hali and I barely passed a soul all day. I stopped at a line of trees where I'd pulled in the previous year on a horribly rainy day. I took a photo of the same view, but prefer the one from last year, which had far more atmosphere. As I said, blue skies can be very dull for photographs! The sun was also responsible for the snow on the ground having melted, revealing that not particularly attractive yellow-brown grass.

A little further down the road I pulled in to an unmanned petrol station that had been a life-saver last year, only to find that it no longer accepted credit cards, only some strange key fob. I had enough to get me past Höfn and beyond, but hated to have to worry about it at all. I stopped again at the side of the road at another place I'd stopped to capture a couple of crooked trees. The bigger one looked beautiful this morning, with frost on the ground, two glaciers in the distance behind it and icy pools in front of it. Glaciers were everywhere! The wind was bitterly cold, so I didn't stay out of the car for long. A little further was a pretty church with a red roof; Iceland does do very pretty churches!

I took another turn-off and went for a little wander, marvelling at some ice patterns, slush floating down the river, another distant glacier creeping down onto the valley floor, and a ruined house surrounded by snow-covered mountains.

I continued on, stopping near a bridge across a large river and finding more wonderful ice patterns, with stunning mountains in the distance and some rhyolitic hills above. If it hadn't been so damn cold I could've stayed looking at the ice at the river's edge for hours, looking for more ice faces!

Streaky dull clouds were beginning to build up in the sky to the south as I headed eastwards on the approach to Höfn. After filling up with petrol near the turn-off to the town I continued onwards, and took the right turn just before the tunnel that takes you down to Stokksnes. The road was mostly covered in snow, as well as being extremely hilly and windy, but the traction of the tyres seemed to be working okay. When I'd visited the previous year it had been cloudy, so I hadn't noticed the stunning rocky peaks that tower above the road.

I got to the beginning of the spit that leads across to the black sandy, duned-filled beach to see a "No Entry" sign and asking for an entrance fee to be paid at the café. I parked up and asked the man there about it - apparently it was a "nature conservation" fee. I'd read about it on someone's blog, who'd said that one shouldn't pay, as it wasn't strictly legal. The light wasn't great now and my headache was still lurking, so I decided not to proceed, knowing that I'd be back a day or two later. I didn't really want to pay, but wasn't quite sure how not to! On the way back I stopped to pet and photograph some beautiful horses. I had the long zoom on, so was able to get some nice close-ups of the horses' features.

I'd been there about five minutes when a couple of SUVs pulled up and some Asian photographers got out. One of them asked me if it was okay if they joined me; I said "sure" and left them to it.

I continued on, through the tunnel, and pulled over a little way down the road at the one spot I could find to park. When I'd driven in the opposite direction the previous year I'd taken a couple of photos of the snow-covered slopes reflected in the bay, and was keen to recreate the shot. I managed to get a couple of photos, but needed to be closer to the water's edge to get the shots I was looking for. As I knew I'd be there a couple of days I drove on, keen to get to my cabin and try to get rid of my headache.

I drove inland and past a creek where a photographer was capturing a picturesque frosty canyon, and decided that I'd return there another day too. I reached my cabin at Stafafell at 2.30pm, and initially couldn't work out where to check in (there was a house with a tiny sign I'd missed saying "ring for reception"). The woman then accompanied me to my little yellow cabin that was my home for the next two nights. It was a lovely, warm and cosy place with flowery sofas, curtains and bed covers, two bedrooms, a TV, tiny kitchen and windows - and stunning views - on every side, as well as a terrace at the front. A perfect place to recover from my headache!

After lots of water and a couple of cups of tea (in the smallest possible mugs - I had to have two at a time!) I headed out to Hvalnes, where the tops of the mountains had been draped with mist on my last visit. The peaks were clear today, but the sky had become overcast and dull; not promising for a decent sunset. I drove past the point at Hvalnes to see if there was anything interesting to photograph further on, but got nervous when I saw road signs warning of gusty winds ahead; I remembered how exposed it had been when I'd driven along that section before and wasn't keen to get blown off the road. I hoped to see some reindeer too, but they were obviously sheltering from the wind somewhere.

I turned around, drove back around the point and parked at a sheltered beach that sits opposite the mountains. The lagoon was mostly frozen and I discovered some more lovely patterns - again seeing faces in the bubbles. I played around with some of my new Tiffen filters, but found there wasn't enough light or contrast in the clouds to get the best out of the 10-stop one. I took my first self-portraits (and last, it turned out!) of the trip. 

I drove home once the light was too low and blue. I remembered how beautiful the lagoons had looked on my last visit, with dozens of swans sitting on the calm water in the fading light. This year I'd only seen about five swans, as I was a good few weeks too early for their return en masse from their overwintering spots in the northern British Isles (another reason not to visit in February). The lagoon was mostly frozen and still looked beautiful, though, if a little empty.

I cooked some pasta, skyped the hubby as usual, forewent the beer as my head still felt a little fuzzy, and had a very early night. The alarm was set for 6.30am on the off-chance that both the weather and aurora forecasts were right - for a small break in the clouds and a good aurora display.

Click here for Day 4 - A Blue & Green Day in Jökulsárlón

Click here for Day 6 - Stafafell & Hvalnes

Iceland Feb 2015 - Day 4: A Blue & Green Day at Jökulsárlón

I managed to get up early, not wanting to make the same mistake as the previous day (missing impressive purple dawn skies). I arrived on the east beach at Jökulsárlón at 8.15 and sat in the car for a while, watching heavy snow come towards the car at me, horizontally, as I'd parked facing the wind (better for opening car doors). There wasn't a spot of colour in the sky; just dense greyness. It definitely looked as if there was going to be no sunrise to speak of, and conditions weren't exactly pleasant, or easy for photography. The wind was still blowing strong from the south-west, so any photos would have to be taken facing east to prevent the lens being covered with snow.

The beach looked different with a light covering of snow and hail, most of the black sand covered. The snow nestled in the nooks of the icebergs and footprints. The beach was still covered with a dense amount of icebergs - the tide hadn't carried them away as it had in previous years, and it was actually difficult to get down to the shore-line. Surprisingly, I was the only person there for a good half hour - it's a great place to be alone!

I wandered along through the scattered icebergs and noticed some beautiful "still life" arrangements of icebergs with the sand and the snow, as well as beautiful patterns in the icebergs themselves.

After a while concentrating on the ice detail I continued down the beach, as the skies lightened a little and a few other photographers arrived.

As usual, the weather was mixed, with occasional breaks in the cloud and a few storm clouds passing over bringing a short snow-shower (that was the forecast for the whole day).

The beach was cluttered with icebergs, so I was unable to get any pretty shots of nicely-sculpted individual bergs with water trails over them, and had to be content with "group" iceberg shots! I managed to get a few massive waves crashing over the bergs too, as the sun finally came out from behind the clouds.

Within minutes it was gone again, the skies dark and very ominous once again, the next snow-shower only minutes away.

Before the shower arrived I thought it would be a good opportunity to head to the lagoon for a change of scenery, not to mention a few minutes in the warm car, a chance to clean the filters, and a nip to the loo in the café! I'd already been out for 2 hours and my feet were their usual chilly selves. Again I spent an hour in the café, warming up with some hot chocolate and chatting to a couple of fellow photographers. The sun came and went as I sat inside, lighting up the icebergs in the lagoon and the glacier that feeds it. The café has been done up a bit in the past year, with more things for sale, but it even has wifi now, so I was able to put a real-time photo of the spectacular view on Instagram from there! When I headed out again it was cloudy and dull, but I knew that this wouldn't last for long as the clouds were moving over very quickly. I took the long lens out with me again, hoping to get some closer shots of the distant ice. The light was dreadful for a while until the sun finally came out again, first in patches, and then lighting up the whole scene.

Almost as quickly as it had come the sunny spell was over, the wind returned and everyone hurried back to the comfort of their cars or the café.

After an hour and half out there I headed back to Hali for a little rest. I stopped along the way at a small pool next to a narrow bridge, where I'd stopped a few times in the past; the pool was frozen and a strange shade of green. The sky was impressive when I got home, with snow shower clouds swirling around the sun. I wandered back to see the horses, who were for a short while bathed in Icelandic sunshine.

I can never stay indoors for long when Jökulsárlón is so close by, so after a couple of cups of PG Tips (which I always carry with me now!) and recharge of the batteries I was back at the beach for 4.15pm, a good hour and a half before sunset. As earlier, the sun continued to come in and out of snow-shower clouds, and although the skies weren't very colourful, they were dramatic at times.

I wandered to the end of the beach where the river dumps out the icebergs into the sea. Here there was a large number of enormous icebergs bobbing around in the pounding waves; I guess it's here where they're smashed against each other and are broken into the smaller pieces that then wash up a little further down the beach at high tide. I was able to stand on some rocks and get a slightly higher view of the beach.

I headed home at 6pm, the dark clouds preventing enough light being available for twilight photos. Again my feet were too cold - my new boots really weren't doing their thing. The forecast for that evening was good - both for clear-ish skies and for a decent aurora display, so I made sure I had all the right equipment to hand (charged batteries, memory card with space, head-torch, foot warmers, and clean, non-filtered wide-angle lens). After another yummy home-made pasta and skype call home I eventually headed out at 10.30pm, as the detailed short-term forecast I was using showed a KP of over 3 due by that time (up from 1.67 earlier).

I parked at the café car-park, together with about a dozen other cars and a campervan, quickly turning off my lights, so as not to ruin the light for everyone else. I walked up on to one of the hills overlooking the lagoon, from where I had a good view across the lake to the north and west, and over the mountains to the north and east. The lights were out, but not very brightly visible to the naked eye. The camera, as usual, captured a lot more! There were a few annoying and persistent small clouds that got in the way of the lights on the horizon. It was extremely dark, and therefore difficult to compose each shot. On my trip there last year I'd developed an easy method to get around this, though, by bumping up the ISO to 25,600, taking a shot (only a couple of seconds), then recomposing and focusing and trying again, and when I was happy with the composition and focus I'd put the ISO back down (to 2,000-3,200 generally) and take a longer shot, knowing I wasn't wasting time on a poorly-composed, out of focus one! Later on I'd delete all the grainy high ISO shots.

The lights became more visible to the naked eye occasionally, but from time to time people along the shore of the lagoon below me would shine their torches or cars would shine their headlights across the icebergs in the lagoon, reducing the visibility of the lights above. I found it really annoying and inconsiderate and wasn't the only person to shout down from the hill for people to turn their lights off. At least there wasn't a coach-load of Asian women like last year, screeching with delight every few seconds! I moved around a bit, eventually heading down to the beach, hoping to get some shots with the aurora reflected in the lake. While I was down there someone put their car lights on, shining a horrible bright white light on the icebergs across the lagoon for about 10 minutes. At least from on the hill I'd been able to turn and photograph the scene behind, but down on the beach I had nowhere else to point my camera! Eventually they turned the lights off and the place felt a little more natural again. The reflections in the water were disappointing; a slightly moonlit night probably would've helped for providing more (natural) light in the foreground.

The foot-warmers were helping a little, but I still felt very cold. I had my down mittens with me and would put my gloved hands inside them to keep them warm between shots, which was a bit fiddly, but effective in keeping my fingers alive. Eventually, though, the clouds were getting a little thicker, so I decided to call it a night and head home. The lights would probably go on all night, but there's only so many pictures of northern lights you can take in one spot!

As I parked at Hali I noticed that the lights above me were extremely active, dancing green lines above my head. I wandered along the track towards the horses and took another couple of shots before turning in for the night. I should have stayed out all night, as the display was in full force above me and there were fewer clouds here, but I was too tired and too cold. It had been a pretty good night after all and it had to end somewhere. I did manage to have a quick beer while I had a quick look over my photos!

Click here to view Day 3: A Day at Jökulsárlón
Click here for Day 5: Heading east to Stafafell