Reynisdrangar
If you approach this scene from the western side of the seastacks, the place is packed with visitors clambering about on rocks, taking selfies, exploring caves and watching the puffins on the cliffs directly above them. The car park is packed with cars, SUV's and coaches regurgitating enormous numbers of people onto the black sands of Reynisfjara. It's a busy spot. You can escape the crowds by making for the secret beach directly in front of the sea stacks, where you can carelessly allow your tripod to fall over behind your back while searching for the remote cable in your camera bag, ending the life of a beloved 6 stop filter into the bargain. If you do go, keep an eye on the tide because I'd hate for you to get cut off.
If you approach this scene from above, it's a leg sapping but pleasing march up onto the cliffs which loom over the town of Vik to a place you'll share with a much smaller crowd, gazing over sea stacks and ant sized humans from a heady height with a dizzying vertical drop in front of you. In our case an extremely pretty lady, long blonde locks and half our age clad in running apparel came bounding past us effortlessly towards Vik sporting a dazzling smile which somehow made the journey uphill easier. Perhaps my next marathon needs to be in Iceland.
If you approach this scene from the east, you have the pleasure of a tolerably empty beach where you can gaze at the view without distraction. The sea stacks may be further away but a zoom lens soon remedies that, and if you happen to have parked a yellow VW campervan called Brian on the nearby dunes you can unfold a camping chair and brew a pot of coffee. It was the first time on a week long tour of the ring road that I felt like I was resting. We were supposed to be on holiday after all. The calm sea invited a super long exposure with a 10 stop filter. The coffee turned into two pots of coffee as we lingered.
After several days on the road surveying majestic emptiness, the mini metropolis of Vik, the southernmost village in Iceland with a population of not much more than 300 feels like an oasis. It has a delightful swimming pool complex which we visited twice, a shopping centre where you can buy a cooked meal at a not too extravagant price, and an outlet centre where you can temporarily forget your commitment to non-materialism and spend your hard owned Krona on a tee shirt which tells the world you've been to Iceland. It also has an attractive church which we failed to photograph, giving us the perfect excuse to return there. It's fair to say that I like Vik a lot. I like the sea stacks too.
Reynisdrangar
If you approach this scene from the western side of the seastacks, the place is packed with visitors clambering about on rocks, taking selfies, exploring caves and watching the puffins on the cliffs directly above them. The car park is packed with cars, SUV's and coaches regurgitating enormous numbers of people onto the black sands of Reynisfjara. It's a busy spot. You can escape the crowds by making for the secret beach directly in front of the sea stacks, where you can carelessly allow your tripod to fall over behind your back while searching for the remote cable in your camera bag, ending the life of a beloved 6 stop filter into the bargain. If you do go, keep an eye on the tide because I'd hate for you to get cut off.
If you approach this scene from above, it's a leg sapping but pleasing march up onto the cliffs which loom over the town of Vik to a place you'll share with a much smaller crowd, gazing over sea stacks and ant sized humans from a heady height with a dizzying vertical drop in front of you. In our case an extremely pretty lady, long blonde locks and half our age clad in running apparel came bounding past us effortlessly towards Vik sporting a dazzling smile which somehow made the journey uphill easier. Perhaps my next marathon needs to be in Iceland.
If you approach this scene from the east, you have the pleasure of a tolerably empty beach where you can gaze at the view without distraction. The sea stacks may be further away but a zoom lens soon remedies that, and if you happen to have parked a yellow VW campervan called Brian on the nearby dunes you can unfold a camping chair and brew a pot of coffee. It was the first time on a week long tour of the ring road that I felt like I was resting. We were supposed to be on holiday after all. The calm sea invited a super long exposure with a 10 stop filter. The coffee turned into two pots of coffee as we lingered.
After several days on the road surveying majestic emptiness, the mini metropolis of Vik, the southernmost village in Iceland with a population of not much more than 300 feels like an oasis. It has a delightful swimming pool complex which we visited twice, a shopping centre where you can buy a cooked meal at a not too extravagant price, and an outlet centre where you can temporarily forget your commitment to non-materialism and spend your hard owned Krona on a tee shirt which tells the world you've been to Iceland. It also has an attractive church which we failed to photograph, giving us the perfect excuse to return there. It's fair to say that I like Vik a lot. I like the sea stacks too.