Best Viewed Large
I’d noticed the striking white building with its handsome blue roof as we’d passed this way a day earlier, mustering our spirits as best we could under a grey, leaky sky that gave no hint of the beautiful evening we’d later enjoy by the side of the lake at Kirkjufell. I’d also spotted the rough pull in where the road snaked gently upwards through a patch of rocky scrub. “That might make for a shot,” was only the vaguest of thoughts as we passed through this remote area, heading for Arnarstapi and Dritvik Beach beyond. At this stage, the only thing we were certain of was that we’d passed the road that led to the Black Church of Budir and not taken it. And as we were following a circuit on the lonely road of West Snaefellsnes, we knew we’d need to be back this way the following day. That black church screams for attention you see. One of the most impossible to ignore hotspots on a peninsula that offers all sorts of possibilities.
So now we were here again, this time travelling anticlockwise on the most fantastic of coastal roads. Coming from a densely populated country where the sound of the internal combustion engine dominates almost every waking moment, driving here is an unrelenting joy. The Útnesvegur takes you through a brutal and dramatic landscape, where the story of Iceland’s violent volcanic birth is forever on show. In the far western reaches, we drove for miles, flanked by moss filled lava fields, roughly hewn and worn by the rages of a thousand winter storms, barely seeing any other vehicles at all. At times only the bulk of the ice clad Snaefellsjokull, rising mightily above everything else here seemed to anchor us to the land as if by some gravitational pull. A harsh elemental landscape in a time and place that has crept in under my skin and stayed there to settle into a contented glow that burns slowly within, forever calling me back. Having more time to explore on this, our second Icelandic adventure, was enabling us to see gems we’d had no time for on that dash around the ring road three summers earlier. You could easily fill an entire visit to Iceland with Snaefellsnes alone.
By now I was in a particularly fine mood. We’d already bagged compositions at half a dozen spots on this amazingly productive day as we made our way around the circuit. To add to the internal satisfaction levels, I’d also visited the fish and chip van at Arnarstapi. Let’s face it, if your stomach’s rumbling it’s game over on the photography front. Hunger is a big distraction when you’re trying to take epic photos. And now, a few minutes later after a spell in gastronomy heaven, here we were, pulled in at that patch of scrub and gazing at another epic vista, filled with more of those moss covered lava flows. And a handsome blue roofed building. And some other interesting stuff, I hope you’ll agree.
It was another Super Saturday moment, grabbed in a five minute roadside stop in the grand space between Arnarstapi and Budir. Well maybe a ten minute stop for a second layer to complete the twelve exposures for this handheld panoramic view that filled the space, tailing off into a hinterland of mountains rising from the red sands of the Snaefellsnes south coast under a huge gathering of heavy clouds that promised so much, and later delivered even more. It seems that wherever you stop - when you can stop - the chances are there will be something to fill the viewfinder with. Something that you perhaps didn’t see in a million other images when you planned your own adventures. Just like so many others, I love visiting the hotspots and trying to grab those memorable moments and record them forever. That’s what we were doing for most of our two weeks here, but I also find satisfaction in those impromptu moments when I see something else. And this is definitely an image I’d urge you to look at on the big screen if you can. “Best viewed large,” I sometimes read as I enjoy your stories. And you’re always right of course.
Best Viewed Large
I’d noticed the striking white building with its handsome blue roof as we’d passed this way a day earlier, mustering our spirits as best we could under a grey, leaky sky that gave no hint of the beautiful evening we’d later enjoy by the side of the lake at Kirkjufell. I’d also spotted the rough pull in where the road snaked gently upwards through a patch of rocky scrub. “That might make for a shot,” was only the vaguest of thoughts as we passed through this remote area, heading for Arnarstapi and Dritvik Beach beyond. At this stage, the only thing we were certain of was that we’d passed the road that led to the Black Church of Budir and not taken it. And as we were following a circuit on the lonely road of West Snaefellsnes, we knew we’d need to be back this way the following day. That black church screams for attention you see. One of the most impossible to ignore hotspots on a peninsula that offers all sorts of possibilities.
So now we were here again, this time travelling anticlockwise on the most fantastic of coastal roads. Coming from a densely populated country where the sound of the internal combustion engine dominates almost every waking moment, driving here is an unrelenting joy. The Útnesvegur takes you through a brutal and dramatic landscape, where the story of Iceland’s violent volcanic birth is forever on show. In the far western reaches, we drove for miles, flanked by moss filled lava fields, roughly hewn and worn by the rages of a thousand winter storms, barely seeing any other vehicles at all. At times only the bulk of the ice clad Snaefellsjokull, rising mightily above everything else here seemed to anchor us to the land as if by some gravitational pull. A harsh elemental landscape in a time and place that has crept in under my skin and stayed there to settle into a contented glow that burns slowly within, forever calling me back. Having more time to explore on this, our second Icelandic adventure, was enabling us to see gems we’d had no time for on that dash around the ring road three summers earlier. You could easily fill an entire visit to Iceland with Snaefellsnes alone.
By now I was in a particularly fine mood. We’d already bagged compositions at half a dozen spots on this amazingly productive day as we made our way around the circuit. To add to the internal satisfaction levels, I’d also visited the fish and chip van at Arnarstapi. Let’s face it, if your stomach’s rumbling it’s game over on the photography front. Hunger is a big distraction when you’re trying to take epic photos. And now, a few minutes later after a spell in gastronomy heaven, here we were, pulled in at that patch of scrub and gazing at another epic vista, filled with more of those moss covered lava flows. And a handsome blue roofed building. And some other interesting stuff, I hope you’ll agree.
It was another Super Saturday moment, grabbed in a five minute roadside stop in the grand space between Arnarstapi and Budir. Well maybe a ten minute stop for a second layer to complete the twelve exposures for this handheld panoramic view that filled the space, tailing off into a hinterland of mountains rising from the red sands of the Snaefellsnes south coast under a huge gathering of heavy clouds that promised so much, and later delivered even more. It seems that wherever you stop - when you can stop - the chances are there will be something to fill the viewfinder with. Something that you perhaps didn’t see in a million other images when you planned your own adventures. Just like so many others, I love visiting the hotspots and trying to grab those memorable moments and record them forever. That’s what we were doing for most of our two weeks here, but I also find satisfaction in those impromptu moments when I see something else. And this is definitely an image I’d urge you to look at on the big screen if you can. “Best viewed large,” I sometimes read as I enjoy your stories. And you’re always right of course.