Iceland 2.32: Jökulsárlón in Daylight

Jökulsárlón is one of those places which has an endless fascination for the photographer and non-photographer alike.  The ever-changing weather, the constant re-generation of the bergs in the lagoon and the strong river/tidal flow all result in a location which is never the same twice.  It was only fifteen hours or so since I'd watched the sun go down over a virtually empty lagoon, but now there were bergs everywhere.  Presumably the warm sun had caused large numbers to break off the glacier.  Sadly, the same sun gave harsh, contrasty light with absolutely no subtlety, and it had also attracted hordes of tourists to boot.

The arctic terns were still in plentiful supply, and we spent a while watching them until the sheer number of people forced us to move somewhere quieter.

Having given up on the lagoon itself, we wandered down to the beach to look for birds and see what else was happening.  I became distracted by watching lumps of ice being buffeted around by the incoming tide.  Little things please little minds, I suppose.

The final picture is of our trusty steed with a hazy ice cap for a background.  It had behaved impeccably throughout our trip, and I was going to be sad to hand back the keys in less than 48 hours.  There were still a few kilometers to put on the clock first, though...

Iceland 2.31: Litla Hof, Kviarjökull and Fjallsárlón

After our exertions at Ingólfshöfði we were in desperate need of a pit-stop, and remembered that Litla Hof had a very convenient convenience.  It also had a lovely turf-rooved church, which looked rather different in the sunshine compared to our previous visit.

With full stomachs and empty bladders, we then planned what we'd do for the rest of the day.  Our bed for the night was at the Skaftafell Hotel which really wasn't very far away, so we decided to spend the afternoon visiting glaciers and ice lagoons in the area.  First stop was Kviarjökull, a glacier which descends from the Öræfi ice cap and discharges into a small lake.  It was very crisp and clear, and we had the place virtually to ourselves.

There was plenty of plant life around the glacier, including gentians which we hadn't seen elsewhere.

Next stop was Fjallsárlón (aka The Other "Sárlón", to avoid confusion with its larger and more prestigious neighbour).  It was nothing like as busy as Jökulsárlón, possibly because of the required walk up hill and down dale in order to get there.  Some people had clearly decided that the exercise was too much for them, and so were having a picnic alongside their chartered helicopter.  How the other half lives...

When we turned round we spotted a coach party standing on the ridge which had obviously got no further than the car park!

In many ways, Fjallsárlón is just as impressive as its more famous neighbour; but, because the bergs are discharged into a lake rather than a river, it did feel rather more static.

The heli-picnic being over, the individuals concerned packed up and disappeared off to pastures new.  Since it was nearby, and the weather was so warm and sunny, we decided to spend the rest of the afternoon at Jökulsárlón, bracing ourselves for the inevitable crowds.

Iceland 2.28: Hali and Jökulsárlón at Midnight

Our bed for the night was at the Hali Country Hotel, and it is probably the best place we've stayed in the whole of Iceland.  It is situated about 10km east of Jökulsárlón, and incorporates a farmstead where one of the country's most revered authors - Þórbergur Þórðarson - lived.  There is a modern building which is part restaurant and part museum, and its exterior has been imaginatively created to look like a very large shelf of books.

I'd hoped for a decent sunset over Jökulsárlón, as the conditions in the afternoon had been flat light, overhead sun and a clear blue sky.  By the time we'd finished dinner the clouds had descended, unfortunately, but I decided that - being so close to the lagoon - I really had to take the opportunity to go there as the light faded.

Unlike during the day Jökulsárlón's car park was virtually empty, with only a handful of camper vans there.  The lagoon itself was eerily quiet: just me plus some arctic terns, a couple of seals and a flock of barnacle geese for company.  It's a beautiful place at any time of day, but it was absolutely magical to be there as the sun went down.  I can only imagine what it's like in winter with the aurora borealis playing overhead.

There was a golden patch in the sky for a while, but not the spectacular sunset I had hoped for.  Things improved after the sun had dipped behind the mountains, however, as the lighting became much more even and I was able to take full advantage of the "blue hour".

I was fortunate to be at Jökulsárlón at the turn of the high tide, meaning that the river flow which takes the bergs out to sea was virtually non-existent.  Even so, with exposures in the 30 seconds to 2 minutes range, it was inevitable that there would be some movement visible.

One particular berg caught my eye when I was at the water's edge, so I moved onto higher ground in order to get a better look.  It was being used as a roost by dozens of arctic terns; and, more importantly, it was big enough not to move during the long exposure.  It was just after midnight when I took these shots, but there was still enough light in the sky to see what I was doing.  Just.

By 1am I was getting cold and tired, but decided to go down onto the beach for half an hour before heading off to bed.  The light had dropped sufficiently that I needed a torch to find my way around, and the images of the beach bergs were taken in almost complete darkness.  At this point, cold but happy, I went back to the hotel, trying very hard not to wake Harriet up in the process.

True landscape photographers are clearly made of sterner stuff than me, but it was still a wonderful and peaceful experience which I shall remember for a very long time.