Our time here was almost over. For three days we had explored the area that we’d had to hurry through on that earlier adventure when low cloud had wrapped itself around almost everything. By now we’d made two pilgrimages to each of the twin beauties of Eystrahorn and Vestrahorn, and while I still feel that there’s unfinished business in them there yonder hills, I was feeling content enough. Ironically we would have liked to have had some low cloud to fill two nearby valleys we’d identified with some atmosphere and drama, but all things considered, we’d had a pretty good show. Pink sunset skies, brooding silhouettes at dusk, the pleasant surprise of finding ourselves billeted opposite the distinctively styled Batman Mountain; and then there was the even more unexpected light show on the second night when the sky was filled with dancing green curtains. Bizarrely, we’d even sat on the front verandah of our remote hut, drinking coffee in the sunshine for the odd afternoon hour. I was hoping to come back from Iceland with a bountiful collection of folders full of images to keep me occupied for years afterwards, but I never expected to be boarding EasyJet flight 2296 to Luton sporting a modest suntan at the end of the trip.
As the final evening in this far-flung corner approached, we made our way over to Vestrahorn. On the way we stopped at the red chair for the obligatory phone snaps to send to our loved ones at home, before moving a little further to a pull in, where we tried to shoot Batman (or Brunnhorn as it’s more properly yet less appropriately called) across the stretch of water between us. The folder remains untouched. Say no more. We focused on the evening ahead. “Would we improve on yesterday’s shots?” we wondered. “Would we find anything new to photograph here?” As had happened the previous day, Lee and I started with the same composition in mind, before gradually moving further apart as we became absorbed in our own little worlds. Two, maybe three hours later, having exhausted the various options that had caught my eye, I decided to amble over to the other side of the long road from the café to the beach and clambered to the top of a tall dune, where there was just enough space for one judiciously planted tripod. For a while I ignored the famous mountain range across the beach and surveyed the world to the west of here. And immediately, I liked what I saw, especially when I planted the long lens onto the camera. Across the marshland in front of me, the ice capped peaks of the Vatnajokull glacier rose towards the sky, dominating the landscape under a patch of golden light that had torn a hole through the grey clouds. The composition had caught my eye, and maybe I had a shot, or maybe I was too early. I came down from my tufted dune and proceeded towards the long dusty road, where I played around with leading lines, vaguely wondering where Lee had got to, before noticing a familiar figure strolling over the black dune filled sands towards me. He’d been having fun finding new compositions of his own.
Finally, some time after the sun had set, I decided to revisit the dune I’d not long descended, once again using the long lens to bring that distant glacier closer. By now we were being treated to another glorious sky, soft pinks washing the palette above those peaks, surrounded by ever darkening blue layers. So many layers in fact that I decided not to crop the dark band of sky at the top of the image from what I often think to be a “too tall” portrait ratio. Brief and beautiful, it was another exquisite moment from a country that had brought me completely under its spell during these two unforgettable adventures. Tomorrow morning we’d be heading west, towards our final destination. At least we still had four days left to explore before it was all over again.
It’s quite overwhelming to come to a place like this and stare at the famous scenes you’ve seen a thousand times before through other peoples’ lenses. And then to turn the camera in the opposite direction and find yourself faced with a view that many visitors seem to overlook is an added bonus. Perhaps it’s something we only do when time is on our side because of course we want to take the shots that inspired us to come here in the first place. But over the last two days we’d spent six or seven hours exploring and learning the location and beginning to see it more clearly through our own eyes. And yet again that long lens had made the scene work. In sharing this photo, the twenty-fourth in the Iceland 2022 album, I took a moment to review the ones I’d already posted, and while many of them are no doubt exactly what you expected to see, I hope that some of them, this one included, have brought something slightly different. I’m already itching to go again – this time to the Highlands, but that’s going to need a big budget so it’s not going to happen just yet. Big birthday in three years from now.
Nice to be making plans while I continue to work through those folders though.
