The Watchers
“Shall we do Skogafoss first today and then work our way back via Dyrholaey? It might be a bit quieter if we go in the morning before the coachloads arrive.”
It was the last full day of shooting in the area around our base at Vik, and so far, results had been mixed since arriving at the Puffin Hotel on Saturday evening. While we agreed that the waffle makers at the breakfast buffet were a touch of genius on the part of the proprietors, and while we almost swooned with delight at the lamb goulash served in enormous bowlfuls of warm filling splats at the Ice Cave Restaurant, there was little doubt that conditions had been challenging. Sunday had been mostly dry, and had at least allowed us to wander across the black sands of Reynisfjara and then up onto the plateau of Dyrholaey, with some fairly pleasing, although not ecstatically charged results. Shooting back towards the east and the sea stacks of Reynisdrangar had been a constant battle against a steady drizzle as the afternoon headed towards evening.
Monday however, had been extremely difficult from the moment we opened the curtains of our hotel room to witness a heavy blast of rain flying sideways along the street. Not a day without any images at all, as a later post will show you, but one that was mostly spent mooching about in the hotel before heading for the shopping centre to buy presents for the ladies in our lives and my yet to be born grandchildren. I think Monday may in fact have delivered one of my favourite images from the trip, and almost certainly my favourite story, but you’ll have to bear with for a moment, as the queue for the editing suite is as long as it’s ever been right now. You’re going to laugh though – that’s all I’ll say for the moment. Hold that thought.
So we were hanging quite a lot of our hopes on Tuesday. The day had started dry and without wind and we knew that somewhere, there was a reflection of Skogafoss to be had. Exactly where was less certain, although we had an idea. But should we seek that spot first, or should we head for the main car park and brave the crowds to get the close-up shots of the waterfall. Of course, if you’re an early riser and you can resist the abundant temptations posed by the waffle makers, this sort of thing isn’t really going to trouble you, but some of us are made of less stern stuff I’m afraid – besides which I’m not sure that Skogafoss really cuts it as a sunrise or sunset location. Not in September anyway. In the event, we rolled into the main car park, deciding the reflection shot could wait. Only one coachload of selfie seekers had been disgorged by 10am, and so we reached for our wellies and entered the fray, Lee’s famous Friday night five a side elbows swinging around wildly to ward off the worst of them as we set up our shots. I’m glad I got the shot I really wanted from here in 2019 is all I’ll say, but I think I might have something to share later. Possibly. It was fun anyway. Lee certainly came away with a shot he liked. There’s a link to his feed at the end of this story by the way. I think that most of you already follow him, but just in case you didn’t, he’s been unusually productive since we came back from Iceland, so I’d jump aboard quickly if I were you.
After half an hour, by which time four more coaches had arrived, we clambered up the long zigzag staircase to the top of the waterfall, where the famous troll shots appear to be no longer possible, thanks to the health and safety team at Skogafoss. Maybe it’s another accident blackspot – who knows? But if you’re going up top, hoping to grab that shot, I’m sorry to break it to you but you’re going to be disappointed unless they've built a side exit to the staircase since I wrote this. But on the flipside you’ll be glad you made the two hundred foot climb, as another post that will come later will hopefully persuade you. It’s really rather nice up there and you’ll be glad of the reward as you reacquaint yourself with the concept of oxygen and breathing it in and out again. How many later posts is that I’ve committed to now?
Finally, it was time to seek out that reflection, although it hadn’t escaped our notice that there was now a distinctly breezy feel to the air. The road now in front of us didn’t appear to be private, although it led only to a farm that nestled snugly at the foot of the massif that runs unbroken across the south coast of Iceland all the way back to Seljalandsfoss. We’d spotted a large pond on the online map that seemed to be the obvious candidate, which needed further investigation. As I splashed my way through a ford that threatened to drown my welly boots, I turned to find a dozen pairs of eyes gazing intently in my direction. Where had they come from? Were we going to inadvertently harry them out onto the ring road when we drove back towards it, having now discovered that we were definitely in the wrong spot? I returned to the car where Lee was waiting for the results from the exploration party and chewed yet another tasteless protein bar that was supposed to pass for lunch as the sheep gradually dispersed in the way that sheep always do. Up the sides of almost vertical mountains seems to be their favourite grazing ground around here.
And then at the end of the road we realised we’d been missing the patently obvious all along. Quite how we’d not seen the lake beside the main road I really can’t say, but there it was, waiting, rippling urgently, with a huge waterfall reflected on the smoother part of its surface. On the edge of the high ground, hints of mist and mood pervaded the scene, mingling with the spray from Skogafoss and doing what Iceland does best of all. And we were still being watched, by a much smaller committee – just to make sure we weren’t causing any trouble you know. Isn’t it great when a pair of sheep bring something to a landscape such as this? It was an image I always knew was going to be edited in mono. The strip of land upon which Dolly and Deirdre are standing was a strange washed out orange that no amount of colour processing was going to render with any sense of satisfaction.
You’ve seen (hopefully) a number of images from this adventure so far, all in full colour and there will be many more of those to follow. But Iceland is a country that so often lends itself to black and white, particularly I feel when the subject is as clear and obvious as a two hundred foot waterfall can be. You’d think it might be a favourite moment, although in truth we were right beside the ring road and that protein bar really hadn’t done the job it was intended to do, I really needed to do what a man of certain years has to do, and another visit to the Ice Cave Restaurant was on our minds. But I’m pretty sure it’s going to end up being one of my favourite images from the trip. The walls at home are going to run out of space pretty quickly at this rate.
Finally, thanks again to everyone who sent their kind wishes on the birth of my granddaughter last weekend. That really meant a lot you know. Mother and baby are doing well, and Grandad is a soppy old fool who melted at first sight of her of course.
Lee's Flickr Feed: www.flickr.com/photos/110542147@N08/
The Watchers
“Shall we do Skogafoss first today and then work our way back via Dyrholaey? It might be a bit quieter if we go in the morning before the coachloads arrive.”
It was the last full day of shooting in the area around our base at Vik, and so far, results had been mixed since arriving at the Puffin Hotel on Saturday evening. While we agreed that the waffle makers at the breakfast buffet were a touch of genius on the part of the proprietors, and while we almost swooned with delight at the lamb goulash served in enormous bowlfuls of warm filling splats at the Ice Cave Restaurant, there was little doubt that conditions had been challenging. Sunday had been mostly dry, and had at least allowed us to wander across the black sands of Reynisfjara and then up onto the plateau of Dyrholaey, with some fairly pleasing, although not ecstatically charged results. Shooting back towards the east and the sea stacks of Reynisdrangar had been a constant battle against a steady drizzle as the afternoon headed towards evening.
Monday however, had been extremely difficult from the moment we opened the curtains of our hotel room to witness a heavy blast of rain flying sideways along the street. Not a day without any images at all, as a later post will show you, but one that was mostly spent mooching about in the hotel before heading for the shopping centre to buy presents for the ladies in our lives and my yet to be born grandchildren. I think Monday may in fact have delivered one of my favourite images from the trip, and almost certainly my favourite story, but you’ll have to bear with for a moment, as the queue for the editing suite is as long as it’s ever been right now. You’re going to laugh though – that’s all I’ll say for the moment. Hold that thought.
So we were hanging quite a lot of our hopes on Tuesday. The day had started dry and without wind and we knew that somewhere, there was a reflection of Skogafoss to be had. Exactly where was less certain, although we had an idea. But should we seek that spot first, or should we head for the main car park and brave the crowds to get the close-up shots of the waterfall. Of course, if you’re an early riser and you can resist the abundant temptations posed by the waffle makers, this sort of thing isn’t really going to trouble you, but some of us are made of less stern stuff I’m afraid – besides which I’m not sure that Skogafoss really cuts it as a sunrise or sunset location. Not in September anyway. In the event, we rolled into the main car park, deciding the reflection shot could wait. Only one coachload of selfie seekers had been disgorged by 10am, and so we reached for our wellies and entered the fray, Lee’s famous Friday night five a side elbows swinging around wildly to ward off the worst of them as we set up our shots. I’m glad I got the shot I really wanted from here in 2019 is all I’ll say, but I think I might have something to share later. Possibly. It was fun anyway. Lee certainly came away with a shot he liked. There’s a link to his feed at the end of this story by the way. I think that most of you already follow him, but just in case you didn’t, he’s been unusually productive since we came back from Iceland, so I’d jump aboard quickly if I were you.
After half an hour, by which time four more coaches had arrived, we clambered up the long zigzag staircase to the top of the waterfall, where the famous troll shots appear to be no longer possible, thanks to the health and safety team at Skogafoss. Maybe it’s another accident blackspot – who knows? But if you’re going up top, hoping to grab that shot, I’m sorry to break it to you but you’re going to be disappointed unless they've built a side exit to the staircase since I wrote this. But on the flipside you’ll be glad you made the two hundred foot climb, as another post that will come later will hopefully persuade you. It’s really rather nice up there and you’ll be glad of the reward as you reacquaint yourself with the concept of oxygen and breathing it in and out again. How many later posts is that I’ve committed to now?
Finally, it was time to seek out that reflection, although it hadn’t escaped our notice that there was now a distinctly breezy feel to the air. The road now in front of us didn’t appear to be private, although it led only to a farm that nestled snugly at the foot of the massif that runs unbroken across the south coast of Iceland all the way back to Seljalandsfoss. We’d spotted a large pond on the online map that seemed to be the obvious candidate, which needed further investigation. As I splashed my way through a ford that threatened to drown my welly boots, I turned to find a dozen pairs of eyes gazing intently in my direction. Where had they come from? Were we going to inadvertently harry them out onto the ring road when we drove back towards it, having now discovered that we were definitely in the wrong spot? I returned to the car where Lee was waiting for the results from the exploration party and chewed yet another tasteless protein bar that was supposed to pass for lunch as the sheep gradually dispersed in the way that sheep always do. Up the sides of almost vertical mountains seems to be their favourite grazing ground around here.
And then at the end of the road we realised we’d been missing the patently obvious all along. Quite how we’d not seen the lake beside the main road I really can’t say, but there it was, waiting, rippling urgently, with a huge waterfall reflected on the smoother part of its surface. On the edge of the high ground, hints of mist and mood pervaded the scene, mingling with the spray from Skogafoss and doing what Iceland does best of all. And we were still being watched, by a much smaller committee – just to make sure we weren’t causing any trouble you know. Isn’t it great when a pair of sheep bring something to a landscape such as this? It was an image I always knew was going to be edited in mono. The strip of land upon which Dolly and Deirdre are standing was a strange washed out orange that no amount of colour processing was going to render with any sense of satisfaction.
You’ve seen (hopefully) a number of images from this adventure so far, all in full colour and there will be many more of those to follow. But Iceland is a country that so often lends itself to black and white, particularly I feel when the subject is as clear and obvious as a two hundred foot waterfall can be. You’d think it might be a favourite moment, although in truth we were right beside the ring road and that protein bar really hadn’t done the job it was intended to do, I really needed to do what a man of certain years has to do, and another visit to the Ice Cave Restaurant was on our minds. But I’m pretty sure it’s going to end up being one of my favourite images from the trip. The walls at home are going to run out of space pretty quickly at this rate.
Finally, thanks again to everyone who sent their kind wishes on the birth of my granddaughter last weekend. That really meant a lot you know. Mother and baby are doing well, and Grandad is a soppy old fool who melted at first sight of her of course.
Lee's Flickr Feed: www.flickr.com/photos/110542147@N08/