Blue Ice

I returned to Iceland again... motivated in part by the new Easy Jet service direct from Bristol to Reykjavik, in part to touch base with colleagues, and in part to see Iceland in early February. Ironically the weather in Iceland was quite a bit better than the weather in the storm-battered UK. I have to share one Bristol photo, of my local pub The Pump House, with a waterfall that doesn’t belong there - a combination of a very high tide and lots of water in the Avon River.

The winter dark in Iceland is not nearly as dark as I’d expected - the low sun angle means that the light arrives and departs so gradually that it stretches the day, by more than an hour on each end of official sunrise and sunset, when skies are clear. Reykjavik was icy but not snowy, although the snow-covered peak of Mount Esja dominated the skyline to the north.

I spent much of my time in the lovely Askja building, home of the earth scientists at the University of Iceland. But I took most of my photographs over a long weekend that I spent in SE Iceland (in Höfn í Hornafirði, to be exact), visiting my glaciologist/astronomer/photographer friend Snævarr, who treated me to a wonderful photographic tour of the myriad glacial lagoons fed by the southern glaciers of the Vatnajökull glacier.  

Winter glacier ice is very BLUE... the glacial tongues were startling blue when seen from the air, but even more blue on the ground. I arrived in Höfn on a Friday morning... spent the rest of the morning at Snævarr’s office, a friendly and light building that houses 'all of the University-educated folks'. Snævarr works with a meteorologist (Kristin) in a newly established ‘nature center’, which is responsible for coordinating scientific research in SE Iceland. It is part of a larger push by the Icelandic government to encourage people to re-settle in smaller communities.

 After lunch we headed for the closest glacial lagoon, that of Hofellsjökull. The day was gray but not precipitating, and the partly frozen lagoon of blue ice was striking even in the dull light. I particularly liked the contrast between the angular lines of thin gray ice slabs and the smooth blue curves of the larger icebergs (ísjaka, in Icelandic). Behind the lagoon, the blue source of the icebergs emerged from under the white snow cap.



The next morning we ventured farther to the west, stopping first at the most famous glacial lagoon, Jökulsárlón. The lagoon is always fascinating, no matter how often visited, but even more magical to me was the jumbled display of glistening ice bergs on the black sand of the beach. We stopped there four times in three days - it is not only beautiful, but poses a good photographic challenge. I struggled to capture the essence of the place... I think I need a lot more practice! The amazing ice forms, the variably sculpted surfaces, the range of surface texture, color and internal clarity. Some of the ice forms refracted the light so that they seemed lit from within. Others clearly supplied the inspiration for glass crystal.

From Jökulsárlón we went to the ice source, the Breiðamerkurjökull glacier. The ice was glassy smooth, so I didn´t try to follow Snævarr as he disappeared up the glacier to change out weather station batteries. Instead I stayed on the lower dirtier ice where it was possible to use embedded pebbles in lieu of crampons. I entertained myself by photographing ice and small surface step-pool streams flowing over the ice.

We then drove back past Jökulsárlón for more iceberg photography. Snævarr collected a piece to cool drinks that evening  - apparently very old and very pure water. Our next stop was at Heinabergsjökull. We didn´t make it all the way to the lagoon because a sudden shower interrupted the sun. 

 But as we retreated the skies cleared and we had a glorious drive back to Höfn, with ponded water on both sides of the road reflecting the sky and clouds and mountains. It almost gave a sense of vertigo, with the water so still and the reflections so perfect. The light reflecting and refracting and gradually sliding into gold and pink during the extraordinarily long dusk of Icelandic evenings.

On Sunday morning I was awoken by wind... and informed by Snævarr that I had missed a good aurora at midnight. We headed east and north, intending to hike near Vesturhorn, but were deterred by the wind and saltating sand. So instead we continued to the east... we entertained ourselves by counting reindeer (before this trip I had never seen a reindeer; by the end of the day I had seen well over 100... although a professional reindeer surveyor apparently counted more than 300 that day on the same stretch of coast - clearly we need to improve our reindeer counting skills!) and stopping for photos.

The coast is spectacular, snow-covered mountains rising up from the black sand beaches and brown faded grass. We stopped for awhile at a small lighthouse perched at the end of a long curving steep black sand and pebble beach. We watched as the waves lapped ever higher up the curve of the sand - didn’t quite make it over the top while we were there, although a strand line of shells showed that the waves do make it over at high tide.

We then stopped at Vesturhorn, Snævarr’s favorite climbing haunt. The wind discouraged a long hike but we did walk past a herd of friendly Icelandic ponies and visited a constructed, and now weathering, Viking village that was designed as a movie set (the movie has yet to be made).

Although the day had been gray, the western horizon was clear so Snævarr suggested that we make a short stop at Höfn for gas and hotdogs before heading back to the west, this time to Fláajökull. We walked along the edge of the glacier to a small ice cave - more photographic exploration. Again, I found it surprisingly challenging to capture the ice in all its forms and shades of gray to turquoise. As Snævarr had predicted, the sun sank gradually beneath the clouds and provided a nice alpenglow on the snow-covered peaks. We drove back in the twilight, toward the clouds over Höfn that highlighted the white peaks against the deepening gray.

Monday was a semi-work day as I drove with Snævarr and Kristin to Kirkjubærklaustur to talk to people at the Katla Geopark. But it was only partly work, as the day was glorious and sunny, and Kristin was happy to accommodate more photo stops. Jökulsárlón again, in both directions. The ice forms always fascinating and changing with the changing light.

Then back around the volcano Oræfajökull, with its summit Hvannadalshnúkur (which means the peak of angelica valley; clearly it was the angelica that was important to the locals, not the peak). We arrived back in Höfn in time for Snævarr to make a couple of stops before delivering me to the airport 15 minutes before flight time... it turns out that we really only needed to be there 5 minutes before the flight, here where traveling by plane is easier than taking a bus (no ID, no security, no waiting in lines).

Back in Reykjavik I joined my friend Malla and two of her friends for dinner and a wander around, to admire Vetrahátið, the winter festival of lights. The light displays were of varying quality, but I liked the jellyfish, and enjoyed seeing the central pond (Tjörnin) completely frozen and skate-able... later in the evening the kids swarmed like moths beneath streetlights that illuminated the urban boundaries of the lake.