ice lake
Shooting far north in winter is a strange and surreal experience. Nothing really prepares you for the brutality of the cold or the sheer quality of the light. That bluish glow from the ice capped mountains and frozen lakes is something that is both incredible to behold and simultaneously difficult to capture. There’s a magical feel up here that is almost impossible to turn into pixels.
And there’s also a beautifully quirky feel to life in the northernmost reaches of Europe which I think in part reflects the dramatic seasonal variations – from months of total darkness through to those mind bending days where the sun never dips below the horizon. And the people seem both warm and friendly. And beautifully eccentric.
Take our host, for instance - a very affable gentleman who had rented his gorgeous home to us for the duration of our stay. A man with a ready smile and a moustache which twitched comically when he spoke.
Returning late at night from this shoot on the snowy roads, we were somewhat surprised to find him standing outside in the bitterly cold air waiting for us. As we pulled up, he excitedly beckoned us over to his car, which was parked a few metres away under the orange spill of a streetlight. Ushering us to the rear and once certain of our full attention, he unlatched the boot with a theatrical flourish and there before us lay 5 of the largest cod I’ve ever seen, packed neatly in a large wooden crate surrounded by ice. With the skill of a man well versed in the art of storytelling, he explained that they had been caught that day by his very good friend who was reportedly one of the most skilled fishermen on the Islands. Cold, hungry and tired, we listened with growing anticipation as he told us how good they tasted marinated with fresh lemon juice, black pepper and laid on a bed of parsley. And then, when we could stand it no more, he simply closed the boot, wished us good night and drove off into the darkness. Leaving us with only left over pasta from the night before.
But when you think about it, this is brilliant. He had something that he was proud of and simply wanted to share it with his new friends. Well, the experience, if not the actual fish.
So next time you visit the supermarket, why not take the time to call in on a friend on the way home. Open up your boot and go through your shopping with them. Maybe tell them what you intend to cook that night. And then simply drive off.
I think they’ll thank you for it.
This is Ice Lake.
ice lake
Shooting far north in winter is a strange and surreal experience. Nothing really prepares you for the brutality of the cold or the sheer quality of the light. That bluish glow from the ice capped mountains and frozen lakes is something that is both incredible to behold and simultaneously difficult to capture. There’s a magical feel up here that is almost impossible to turn into pixels.
And there’s also a beautifully quirky feel to life in the northernmost reaches of Europe which I think in part reflects the dramatic seasonal variations – from months of total darkness through to those mind bending days where the sun never dips below the horizon. And the people seem both warm and friendly. And beautifully eccentric.
Take our host, for instance - a very affable gentleman who had rented his gorgeous home to us for the duration of our stay. A man with a ready smile and a moustache which twitched comically when he spoke.
Returning late at night from this shoot on the snowy roads, we were somewhat surprised to find him standing outside in the bitterly cold air waiting for us. As we pulled up, he excitedly beckoned us over to his car, which was parked a few metres away under the orange spill of a streetlight. Ushering us to the rear and once certain of our full attention, he unlatched the boot with a theatrical flourish and there before us lay 5 of the largest cod I’ve ever seen, packed neatly in a large wooden crate surrounded by ice. With the skill of a man well versed in the art of storytelling, he explained that they had been caught that day by his very good friend who was reportedly one of the most skilled fishermen on the Islands. Cold, hungry and tired, we listened with growing anticipation as he told us how good they tasted marinated with fresh lemon juice, black pepper and laid on a bed of parsley. And then, when we could stand it no more, he simply closed the boot, wished us good night and drove off into the darkness. Leaving us with only left over pasta from the night before.
But when you think about it, this is brilliant. He had something that he was proud of and simply wanted to share it with his new friends. Well, the experience, if not the actual fish.
So next time you visit the supermarket, why not take the time to call in on a friend on the way home. Open up your boot and go through your shopping with them. Maybe tell them what you intend to cook that night. And then simply drive off.
I think they’ll thank you for it.
This is Ice Lake.