Islands in the Stream
Every time I look at this image I can hear the strains of Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers somewhere in the back of my mind. I'm not sure I want anyone to tell me exactly how long ago they topped the UK charts with that song, but I'm pretty sure I was just a teenager. Somewhere between then and now I acquired a daughter who is nearly 31 and a 28 year old son. Time seems to pass by at an alarming and increasingly rapid pace. If you're young, make sure you enjoy what you're doing. If you're old, you didn't need me to offer the same advice because you're just as aware as I am how quickly we got here and how recently we were just kids ourselves.
Enjoying what you're doing in life isn't the same for everyone of course. Which is probably a good thing, otherwise I would have come to a place like this to find hundreds of people getting in my way as I impatiently waited my turn to place my tripod by the edge of the cliff and point my camera at the sea stacks of Reynisdrangar far below me. The tallest of them is 66 metres high, yet it's dwarfed by the huge clifftop plateau that towers over it just to the west of the small town of Vik.
Lee and I had saved our hike to the top for this vantage point until late in the day in the hopes that we'd find the place to ourselves once we got there. We laboured up the steep path, our pulses quickened by the gain in altitude and the sight of a particularly beautiful young woman with flowing blond locks, running past us down the slope with a smile as wide and lovely as the views that were opening up below us. Only a few weeks earlier I'd completed the Edinburgh Marathon - I was just getting ready to tell her all about it, but she had already flown past us, gorgeous smile and all. We pushed on and up the path like a pair of giggling schoolboys.
As we emerged on top of the plateau, only a few sheep were present to share the space with us. Gradually we made our way forward, forever gazing at some of the most beautiful scenery I've ever seen until we arrived before the sea stacks. On the beach of Reynisfjara at the bottom of the cliff, ant sized humans swarmed across the space, disgorged from the multitude of vehicles in the brimming car park. I suspect most of them were on day trips from Reykjavik, ferried here and back with a lunch stop and a visit to the plane wreck all included for a gazillion Icelandic krona. I'm so glad we decided to get a campervan and tour. It really is the best way to see a country with such an abundance of remote beauty spots as Iceland has.
I'd had this shot in mind for a while before our visit. I wanted to show the stacks surrounded by a green sea, with no sky in the composition. It's the closest I'm likely to get to a drone shot without sticking my hand in my pocket and actually buying one. I've always had this fear that the minute I invest, my new toy will be mobbed by angry seabirds and end up sinking to the bottom of the ocean. Either that or someone large and menacing will come knocking on the door and accusing me of invading their privacy.
In truth it's not the sharpest picture in the world, but it's a story I wanted to share and I can't be certain when I'll be able to return and try again. Not because of Covid - I'm hopeful that our lives will return to some semblance of normality one day, but just because Iceland is so infernally expensive to visit, even if you do it "on the cheap." I'll have to get a bigger piggy bank I guess; before time does too much more of that marching on.
Islands in the Stream
Every time I look at this image I can hear the strains of Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers somewhere in the back of my mind. I'm not sure I want anyone to tell me exactly how long ago they topped the UK charts with that song, but I'm pretty sure I was just a teenager. Somewhere between then and now I acquired a daughter who is nearly 31 and a 28 year old son. Time seems to pass by at an alarming and increasingly rapid pace. If you're young, make sure you enjoy what you're doing. If you're old, you didn't need me to offer the same advice because you're just as aware as I am how quickly we got here and how recently we were just kids ourselves.
Enjoying what you're doing in life isn't the same for everyone of course. Which is probably a good thing, otherwise I would have come to a place like this to find hundreds of people getting in my way as I impatiently waited my turn to place my tripod by the edge of the cliff and point my camera at the sea stacks of Reynisdrangar far below me. The tallest of them is 66 metres high, yet it's dwarfed by the huge clifftop plateau that towers over it just to the west of the small town of Vik.
Lee and I had saved our hike to the top for this vantage point until late in the day in the hopes that we'd find the place to ourselves once we got there. We laboured up the steep path, our pulses quickened by the gain in altitude and the sight of a particularly beautiful young woman with flowing blond locks, running past us down the slope with a smile as wide and lovely as the views that were opening up below us. Only a few weeks earlier I'd completed the Edinburgh Marathon - I was just getting ready to tell her all about it, but she had already flown past us, gorgeous smile and all. We pushed on and up the path like a pair of giggling schoolboys.
As we emerged on top of the plateau, only a few sheep were present to share the space with us. Gradually we made our way forward, forever gazing at some of the most beautiful scenery I've ever seen until we arrived before the sea stacks. On the beach of Reynisfjara at the bottom of the cliff, ant sized humans swarmed across the space, disgorged from the multitude of vehicles in the brimming car park. I suspect most of them were on day trips from Reykjavik, ferried here and back with a lunch stop and a visit to the plane wreck all included for a gazillion Icelandic krona. I'm so glad we decided to get a campervan and tour. It really is the best way to see a country with such an abundance of remote beauty spots as Iceland has.
I'd had this shot in mind for a while before our visit. I wanted to show the stacks surrounded by a green sea, with no sky in the composition. It's the closest I'm likely to get to a drone shot without sticking my hand in my pocket and actually buying one. I've always had this fear that the minute I invest, my new toy will be mobbed by angry seabirds and end up sinking to the bottom of the ocean. Either that or someone large and menacing will come knocking on the door and accusing me of invading their privacy.
In truth it's not the sharpest picture in the world, but it's a story I wanted to share and I can't be certain when I'll be able to return and try again. Not because of Covid - I'm hopeful that our lives will return to some semblance of normality one day, but just because Iceland is so infernally expensive to visit, even if you do it "on the cheap." I'll have to get a bigger piggy bank I guess; before time does too much more of that marching on.