Race Against the Light
The day we moved to base camp three was always going to be a bit of an adventure. Now I look back at the notes, which confirm how long the journey was, especially in a land where the speed limits are positively pedestrian. From the Efra Sel Hostel at Fludir in the Golden Circle, we'd be driving 439km, or for five and a half hours as Google Maps informed me, eventually reaching the loneliest outpost of the trip at Stafafell Cottages, roughly halfway between the highlights on the road from Vestrahorn to Eystrahorn. Once we'd thrown in a lunch stop at Vik and decided upon which of the many interim attractions we'd visit along the way, an extra three hours or more would be added to the long day of driving ahead. We even pulled very briefly into a rammed car park at Skogafoss, just for a recce rather than anything more immersive at this stage. Here we were greeted by a rainbow that spread itself across the base of the waterfall, much as the one at Haifoss had done the day before. But unlike the far more remote Haifoss, the space was full of people, so much so that we didn't even take the cameras out of the packs. I don't think I even bothered with a phone snap.
Driving from west to east along the south coast of Iceland is an experience you're unlikely to forget, especially on a clear day when the landscape opens up ahead of you in full glorious technicolour. The further you proceed, the more magnificent it seems to become as on the left hand side mountains emerge from the horizon to greet you, ever more foreboding as you go. On this clear sunny day, we were only a few minutes out of Vik before the Vatnajokull glacier, which covers eight percent of the entire surface of Iceland rose to beckon us across the plains ahead, where it sat for the better part of two hours as we slowly reeled it in towards us. As we made the final approach, the long icy fingers of Skaftafell and Svinafellsjokull reached down towards the ground from their peaks to say hello, inviting us to stop at the latter, a decision mainly driven by the fact that we didn't have to pay to park there.
Back on the road, resisting the temptation to stop as the tell-tale single span suspension bridge announced we were passing the glacier lagoon at Jokulsarlon, we pressed on, fully in the knowledge that the chances of a sunset shoot were rapidly diminishing. It was a situation made ever more frustrating by the arrival of what might have been the most appealing golden hour we'd had so far. The last hour brought soft warm tones to the front lit mountains ahead, by which time we knew the only opportunity we'd get that evening was to head straight down the track to Batman's lair.
I'd only discovered the existence of Brunnhorn after booking our accommodation, so I was delighted to see that a lesser known highlight of the region was quite literally just across the road from our home for the next four nights. At this moment I'm going to allow you to pause for a period of up to seven nanoseconds while you attempt to deduce for yourself why it's commonly know as "Batman Mountain." Got it? We'll move on then. As you can see, by the time we finally got to our spot, we had moved convincingly into the depths of the blue hour, and although we still weren't quite over the disappointment of not having arrived even fifteen minutes earlier, there was still a shot waiting to be stolen from the approaching night. In the stillness of the evening, a long exposure delivered the reflections and soft peachy tones of the horizon that made the moment one worth recording.
In retrospect, I'm now quite content that we didn't arrive here with enough time to go elsewhere. We'd have probably pushed on to Eystrahorn, where we spent the following afternoon and evening with a degree of success. Although we came back here a couple of times as an aperitif to the main events at either Eystrahorn or Vestrahorn that would follow, I'm not so sure we'd have dedicated an entire evening shoot to it. So, in this way, Batman had his moment in the spotlight, bathed in blue reflections before the dusk vanished into darkness. After all, there's always a positive to be found when you reflect on things later.
Race Against the Light
The day we moved to base camp three was always going to be a bit of an adventure. Now I look back at the notes, which confirm how long the journey was, especially in a land where the speed limits are positively pedestrian. From the Efra Sel Hostel at Fludir in the Golden Circle, we'd be driving 439km, or for five and a half hours as Google Maps informed me, eventually reaching the loneliest outpost of the trip at Stafafell Cottages, roughly halfway between the highlights on the road from Vestrahorn to Eystrahorn. Once we'd thrown in a lunch stop at Vik and decided upon which of the many interim attractions we'd visit along the way, an extra three hours or more would be added to the long day of driving ahead. We even pulled very briefly into a rammed car park at Skogafoss, just for a recce rather than anything more immersive at this stage. Here we were greeted by a rainbow that spread itself across the base of the waterfall, much as the one at Haifoss had done the day before. But unlike the far more remote Haifoss, the space was full of people, so much so that we didn't even take the cameras out of the packs. I don't think I even bothered with a phone snap.
Driving from west to east along the south coast of Iceland is an experience you're unlikely to forget, especially on a clear day when the landscape opens up ahead of you in full glorious technicolour. The further you proceed, the more magnificent it seems to become as on the left hand side mountains emerge from the horizon to greet you, ever more foreboding as you go. On this clear sunny day, we were only a few minutes out of Vik before the Vatnajokull glacier, which covers eight percent of the entire surface of Iceland rose to beckon us across the plains ahead, where it sat for the better part of two hours as we slowly reeled it in towards us. As we made the final approach, the long icy fingers of Skaftafell and Svinafellsjokull reached down towards the ground from their peaks to say hello, inviting us to stop at the latter, a decision mainly driven by the fact that we didn't have to pay to park there.
Back on the road, resisting the temptation to stop as the tell-tale single span suspension bridge announced we were passing the glacier lagoon at Jokulsarlon, we pressed on, fully in the knowledge that the chances of a sunset shoot were rapidly diminishing. It was a situation made ever more frustrating by the arrival of what might have been the most appealing golden hour we'd had so far. The last hour brought soft warm tones to the front lit mountains ahead, by which time we knew the only opportunity we'd get that evening was to head straight down the track to Batman's lair.
I'd only discovered the existence of Brunnhorn after booking our accommodation, so I was delighted to see that a lesser known highlight of the region was quite literally just across the road from our home for the next four nights. At this moment I'm going to allow you to pause for a period of up to seven nanoseconds while you attempt to deduce for yourself why it's commonly know as "Batman Mountain." Got it? We'll move on then. As you can see, by the time we finally got to our spot, we had moved convincingly into the depths of the blue hour, and although we still weren't quite over the disappointment of not having arrived even fifteen minutes earlier, there was still a shot waiting to be stolen from the approaching night. In the stillness of the evening, a long exposure delivered the reflections and soft peachy tones of the horizon that made the moment one worth recording.
In retrospect, I'm now quite content that we didn't arrive here with enough time to go elsewhere. We'd have probably pushed on to Eystrahorn, where we spent the following afternoon and evening with a degree of success. Although we came back here a couple of times as an aperitif to the main events at either Eystrahorn or Vestrahorn that would follow, I'm not so sure we'd have dedicated an entire evening shoot to it. So, in this way, Batman had his moment in the spotlight, bathed in blue reflections before the dusk vanished into darkness. After all, there's always a positive to be found when you reflect on things later.