Why is it that wherever you go in the world, if are out in a remote area, with a great expansive view, people will create rock piles of various shapes and sizes? It’s an interesting phenomena. I’ve seen them in South America, Africa, and, most recently, Europe. I captured one of the rock piles I found in Iceland in today’s photo.
I loved this scene so much I had to create two versions. Here you have the other, tiny little flowers before a vast expanse of rock, ocean and mountainous Fjords in the Westfjords, Iceland.
Every time I work on a photo of Iceland I look forward to going back. Today’s shot was taken well after midnight, as the sun dipped just below the horizon. I’d hopped out of the car to take the picture featured here Fjords and Flowers. When I packed up and started making my way back to the car, I noticed the golden light hitting portions of the mountain above me.
It seems like a lot of flights to Iceland arrive in the middle of the night. During the long days of summer this means arriving under the midnight sun. As I landed I was desperate to get out of the airport and break out my camera as the sunset lit the sky. Luckily, I was booked into a guesthouse in a picturesque little place called Gardur. There’s two lighthouses there so you can happily fill your first night in Iceland shooting.
As I approached this lighthouse I didn’t expect that we’d actually be able to go up to the top of it. Then, my travel buddy disappeared through the open door. Climbing to the top was pretty tricky with my camera, backpack and tripod. It’s a series of ladders with little openings in each floor to climb through. There’s some strange art installations inside as well. All in all, it was pretty creepy.
Here’s another shot of the iceberg washed ashore at Jökulsárlón and the strange shapes they take as they melt.
This was shot at Jokulsarlon, Iceland, where icebergs come crashing down from the Vatnajokull glacier and begin their journey out to sea. Some of those icebergs, after melting down enough to escape the narrow exit to the lagoon, become trapped against the shore by the crashing waves. These three were amongst many scattered here, slowly melting away.
The icebergs take on various different colors based on the atmospheric conditions. The black one in the background is the result of volcanic ash frozen into the ice.
Taking this photo was a bit tricky. I was struck by the gentle curve and calm lake beneath the overcast sky. Initially, I set my tripod up on the road, but I wasn’t happy with it. I needed to be higher. So, I hopped up onto the Jeep’s hood. My thinking was, it’s a jeep, it should be sturdy. It wasn’t. That hood buckled easier than your average car would! I decided I could get up on the roof, if I stayed over the jeep’s roll cage. This worked at first, but after taking a few shots I realized that my presence on the roof was causing the jeep to move pretty much constantly. I tried jumping off after setting the timer and hoping the jeep would calm down. It didn’t. So, I climbed back up again and stuck in my remote shutter switch. I jumped off and waited for a while before pressing the button. Then, I got the below image.
With no music to cut the silence, and my travel buddy passed out next to me, I navigated our little white jeep up and down meandering switchback after meandering switchback. Having only made it half way from our hostel to Latrabjarg, we tucked tail and made our way home for fear of running out of gas. Our first night in Iceland taught us a lesson. If the GPS says it will take 4 hours, it will take ten. The roads are rough, but the real reason is that the beautiful scenery begs you to stop after every bend.
I’d struggled to find a groove on this drive, as I so often do when I dust off the photography skills in a new destination. Then, the sun began to reverse its brief dip just below the horizon and something magical happened. A soft light bathed the landscape, bursting through gaps in the cloud to the north. The birds began to awaken and fill the air with song. Approaching a bend, ascending out of another fjord I suddenly found inspiration. The serenity of the moment seemed to be summed up in the single view captured below. Huge cliffs sat peacefully in the distance as a road twisted and turned its way along the edge of the fjords. There wasn’t another car or person in sight. I’d just driven that stretch, and there was a long way to go until I’d reach a bed, but I had to stop, step out in the cold, and mount my camera atop my tripod and try to do the view before me justice.
I’ve written about this bridge before (Rickety Bridge, Iceland), but I wanted to show you this view because it raises a couple of questions:
Question 1: It looks pretty old and rickety, is it safe?
Answer 1: Yes, I crossed it a couple of times. I wasn’t thrilled about having to go across it the first time but an error that resulted in my bag staying in frame for the photo posted previously meant I had to nervously tip-toe back and forth an extra time.
Question 2: Why is there a bridge here?
Answer 2 (kind of): I have no idea. The volcano is a long way off, you certainly wouldn’t want to walk it. On top of that, there’s no path on the other side. It appeared to be an island in the middle of the river with nothing but overgrown brush covering it. I doubt the bridge was built for no reason, so it must be a bridge to somewhere, but where? It makes me wonder if the scene takes some completely different appearance in another season.
Is it farmed at some point?
Does it turn into a carpet of wild flowers?
Could it be a great place to watch birds?
Who knows?
I don’t.
I came across this farm in the Lake Myvatn region. It was about 11:00 when we got here. As you can see from the clouds we were in for a gloomy rainy night. That’s alright though, it suited the volcanic landscapes we were just about to drive into.
