It was a gloomy day of rain as we set out north from Reykjavik to the Snæfellsnes Peninsula. Low clouds draped across everything and annoyingly obscured what I imagined to be spectacular hills (or possibly even volcanoes!), lifting their skirts only occasionally to reveal tantalising volcanic scree and rugged rocky formations.
I had finished my whinge and was snoozing in the passenger seat (having given the day up as a non-eventful "travel" day) when a flash of whitewater caught Ben's eye. Ah yes! Rainy days make waterfall days, and this was a lovely rush of it not far from the highway. We nodded to the lone local fisherman in his waders as we wandered around the quiet banks of the clear stream.
Ben did his usual rock-hopping thing and was on top of the waterfall in a matter of minutes. Straddling two of the rocks on the righthand side of the falls to line up a shot, he was suddenly interrupted by a couple of not-so-friendly local men in an SUV. I thought, Icelandic hillbillies perhaps? as they gestured wildly and yelled at us to get ourselves away from their fishing stream and back to the highway from whence we came.
We took a break on the southern shores of the Snæfellsnes, appreciating the wide sandy beaches under the slowly clearing sky.
Strolling back to the car, Ben managed to startle a large flock of arctic terns, who took to flight over our heads and promptly dropped three fresh sloppy ones on me, much to my chagrin. Driving home the extent of my luck later that day, he then inadvertently walked through a field of nesting arctic terns on the way to shoot another waterfall. The birds instantly went into defence mode, screaming and swooping at him from all directions, diving and dropping their faecal bombs with frightening force and deliberateness. Somehow Ben managed to escape both poop-free and with this awesome shot of an arctic tern in military action.
We overnighted in Grundarfjörður, a sleepy fishing village overlooked by the impressive layered lines of Kirkjufell jutting out into the bay.
The spectacularly beautiful blue of Iceland's water wasn't lost on Ben, who endured the ridiculous 3am wake-up for a sunrise shoot just outside the village.
The road to Stykkishólmur continued through Helgafellssveit where the landscape began to really show some drama.
These awesome looking volcanoes had that "I've just popped out of the earth recently" look; two angry pimples whose eruption had perhaps rendered the immediate vicinity the barren Mars-like field of brown dust and red rocks that it was. We couldn't resist climbing the crumbling track up the side of one of them, Kothraunskúla, to get a breathtaking view of Berserkjahraun across the road and beyond.
A short stop in Stykkishólmur revealed a pleasant little seaside town featuring a fascinating basalt island called Súgandisey. These sure were some funky Icelandic rocks.
So excited about the rest of this island.
I had finished my whinge and was snoozing in the passenger seat (having given the day up as a non-eventful "travel" day) when a flash of whitewater caught Ben's eye. Ah yes! Rainy days make waterfall days, and this was a lovely rush of it not far from the highway. We nodded to the lone local fisherman in his waders as we wandered around the quiet banks of the clear stream.
Ben did his usual rock-hopping thing and was on top of the waterfall in a matter of minutes. Straddling two of the rocks on the righthand side of the falls to line up a shot, he was suddenly interrupted by a couple of not-so-friendly local men in an SUV. I thought, Icelandic hillbillies perhaps? as they gestured wildly and yelled at us to get ourselves away from their fishing stream and back to the highway from whence we came.
We took a break on the southern shores of the Snæfellsnes, appreciating the wide sandy beaches under the slowly clearing sky.
Strolling back to the car, Ben managed to startle a large flock of arctic terns, who took to flight over our heads and promptly dropped three fresh sloppy ones on me, much to my chagrin. Driving home the extent of my luck later that day, he then inadvertently walked through a field of nesting arctic terns on the way to shoot another waterfall. The birds instantly went into defence mode, screaming and swooping at him from all directions, diving and dropping their faecal bombs with frightening force and deliberateness. Somehow Ben managed to escape both poop-free and with this awesome shot of an arctic tern in military action.
We overnighted in Grundarfjörður, a sleepy fishing village overlooked by the impressive layered lines of Kirkjufell jutting out into the bay.
The spectacularly beautiful blue of Iceland's water wasn't lost on Ben, who endured the ridiculous 3am wake-up for a sunrise shoot just outside the village.
The road to Stykkishólmur continued through Helgafellssveit where the landscape began to really show some drama.
These awesome looking volcanoes had that "I've just popped out of the earth recently" look; two angry pimples whose eruption had perhaps rendered the immediate vicinity the barren Mars-like field of brown dust and red rocks that it was. We couldn't resist climbing the crumbling track up the side of one of them, Kothraunskúla, to get a breathtaking view of Berserkjahraun across the road and beyond.
A short stop in Stykkishólmur revealed a pleasant little seaside town featuring a fascinating basalt island called Súgandisey. These sure were some funky Icelandic rocks.
So excited about the rest of this island.
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