Photographing Iceland’s Midnight Sun

65° North

Home of the Midnight Sun and 23 Hours of Rain

Having been sent home from work in Germany with a herniated disc and cleared of the potential cauda equina problems, I was staring down the barrel of a few months of rehab and little/no work. I have wanted to visit Iceland for a long time but other priorities dictated that it didn’t happen. Now here I was, with time, Iceland as one of the green listed countries, cheap flights in an attempt to entice potential visitors and a once in a lifetime opportunity to see a live volcano. Alas, I had only had one vaccine and my next one wasn’t scheduled for another month. Some knowledge from a good friend and a few phone calls later and my second jab was rebooked for just a week away.

I was still facing one major problem, as I had left Chamonix fully intending to return after my work trip, all my camera equipment save my camera body and one lens was in France. I begged and borrowed tripods and a couple of filters and bought a couple more. It would just make me work a little harder for the images I wanted I guessed.

I booked flights and van hire and was amazed at the relatively low cost for the country I was intending to visit. As my second jab approached, I was horrified by the weather forecast. Looking at the long-range forecast and seeing that it was scheduled to improved towards the back end of my time there, I naively rearranged my flights for a week later. I say naively as Iceland is notorious for bad weather so I should have realised that it would change for the worse by the time I arrived.

One of the benefits of Covid is that flights are pretty empty. This made for a comfortable flight to Reykjavik and my first taste of just how wet Iceland can be. Within the 15 seconds it took to cross from the arrivals hall to the Covid test centre I was drenched. Test completed, I picked up my hire van and began my isolation period (in the van) until the results were back.

Behind Seljalandsfoss looking West at 11.30pm

The saturated colours surrounding the fairytale like waterfall at Sejalandsfoss

Seljalandsfoss

I used the time to drive south, heading for Seljalandsfoss and the first point on my list of places that I wanted to visit. I was released from quarantine at around 6pm with a negative test so, having snoozed for a good part of the afternoon, I bought some overpriced food and finished the drive.

Though not as imposing as its bigger neighbour Skogafoss, Seljalandsfoss is, in my opinion, much more beautiful. If I was to imagine a place that might be home to fairies, elves or other mythical beings, then I’m not sure my mind could conjure a more magical place. Driving East along the Southern section of the ring road, the 62m spring fed waterfall appears at the end of a long cliff band, ever increasing in height. Parking in the secluded car park at around 9pm, it was hard to not fall instantly under it’s spell. Such saturated colours in the vegetation surrounding the waterfall and clear water cascading from way above. An easy hike around the back of the waterfall opens up some stunning views to the west (if there was any sun, this would be where you’d see it) alas my views were somewhat stormy.

I returned for a second evening and was rewarded with slightly better light (the first image). Though not the sunset I was hoping for, I was fast realising that this would be a trip of few chances to get exactly what I wanted.

Skogafoss

I continued East for the half hour drive to Skogafoss, arriving at around 12.30am and hoped the deluge would abate by the morning. Alas, it increased and then began to snow. The forecast was for it to clear by late afternoon/early evening so a lazy morning followed by a drive to VIk for supplies and to see whether I could see anything further along the coast were the order of the day. The weather remained Biblical which was a shame as the small town has plenty of beautiful and dramatic coastline surrounding it. I returned to Skogafoss just as the rain abated and some of the day time crowds had left.

Skogafoss after the crowds had left.

Skogafoss from above

At 25m wide and with a vertical drop of 60m (though when it’s in full flow, it looks deceptively bigger), it is one of Iceland’s largest waterfalls. in sunnier times, it’s usual to find one or more rainbows in the spray due to the huge volume of the cascade. Photographing from the base with a wide angle lens proved quite a challenge as the spray came so far out that it was hard to keep the lens dry and due to the hefty erosion, one of the better viewing spots at half height was roped off. Though it was quiet late on and breaking the rules would have been easy, I figured that I didn’t want to be part of the problem. Instead, I contented myself with some of the drone shots I’d taken from the main road earlier and just enjoyed being there and witnessing it’s raw power.

Kirkjufellsfoss

Kirkjufellsfoss in the afternoon sun

Looking at the forecast for the week, there was only one day when the weather was due to be sunny for most of the day. If I wanted to see the true midnight sun then this would be the day. I chose to try and get to see it in the North East as I figured this would give me the longest opportunity to enjoy it. Having read about and seen some photos of Kirkjufellsfoss which originally inspired my desire to visit Iceland, this was the perfect opportunity to visit it. Leaving the south and driving into the strange light of the midnight sun was a surreal experience and although there wasn’t an obvious ball of fire in the sky, the everlasting sunset colours on empty roads were beautiful.

Sleeping ‘til late in the morning, I continued the long drive North East. The weather played ball and Iceland opened up in all its volcanic beauty. Roads cut through ancient lava flows, glacier capped volcanos, a myriad colours from the dark igneous rock to the lush green meadows. I arrived at Kirkjufell late in the afternoon and could see immediately why it was so popular. A striking mountain that captures the light and shadows perfectly.

I wandered from the car and scouted out a few potential compositions for later then cooked some food and eagerly awaited the much anticipated midnight sun. I was immersed in shooting for what must have been a good hour and a half and at around 11.50pm the sun began to dip towards the horizon just above the waterfall. The next 45 minutes were a hive of frenzied activity as I raced around trying to keep the sun just cresting the horizon and lighting my images. I walked back to the van with one of the biggest smiles I’ve had in a long time. A deep sense of wonder and the knowledge that I was in that moment one of only three people privileged enough to watch what I’d just watched. I’m not sure it’s ever that quiet there in the summer.

The midnight sun, at midnight, at Kirkjufellsfoss

Fargradalsfjall

Fargradalsfjall Volcano has been erupting since March this year

NE of Grindavik, and the remnant of a subglacial eruption during the last glaciation, Fargradalsjall had been experiencing increased seismic activity in February. On the 19th of March this year, the first eruption of the volcano began. Having seen some amazing photos and footage from the uber talented Chris Burkard, as well as watching the live feed, I was really excited to head up and see what I could see.

Cracks in the old lava flow showing the heat below.

I visited twice over three days. Only having my 21 mm lens and not being able to get much closer than a 900m from the crater, I was restricted to using my drone. I had watched footage from drones that flew a little close and never came home, I was very cautious on the first day and happy to just be there and see a live volcano. On the walk down I sat by the side of a partially solidified lava flow, listening to the cracking and groaning as it slowly moved. Finding little chinks of red light in the cracks and enjoying the heat it was giving off. It felt like sitting next to a warm, relatively fast moving glacier.

On day two I walked the longer way up by the side of the lava flow which was breathing fire in places and seemed a little more active than the previous visit. I was more daring and confident with my drone and rinsed the 3 batteries I had with me before I knew it. I managed to get some footage of the lava spewing from the crater which I’m really pleased with and some nice drone shots of both the volcano and the lava flow itself. The cherry on the cake of the whole trip though was wandering back down to the point that I had been sitting on the previous visit to find that it was now a river of red hot rocks. It was surreal, both to see solids flowing like a liquid and to be stood less that 10m from the red hot flow. So hot was it that as the rain poured down, my back was drenched whilst my front dried. I stood for a long time watching, listening and being completely mesmerised by what was happening. It was a truly humbling experience to witness first hand the raw power of nature and to literally see a new landscape being formed. This isn’t something I’ll forget in a hurry and although none of the drone shots are world beating they are reminders of an amazing experience.

The lava flow from Fargralsfjall taken from above.

Although I didn’t visit all the places I wanted to (abysmal weather and a crook back prevented long hours in the driving seat), I have at least scratched the itch of wanting to visit Iceland. Unfortunately, as a result, I have created a far bigger itch now as there are so many more places to see, seasons to see them in and Northern Lights to see them under. It’s a truly beautiful island with amazing people, achingly beautiful scenery and little else to do but enjoy it.

I was lucky to experience it during such quiet times, unfortunately it is that same quietness that is ravaging the Icelandic tourism industry. I hope that things can return to normal soon for everyone’s sake.