I’m incredibly fortunate that my photography has taken me to some amazing parts of the world or at least it did until Covid put an abrupt stop to all that. But despite the loss of income over the last couple of years as my overseas workshops were cancelled one after the other and my last trip abroad became an increasingly distant memory, I still couldn’t help reflecting how lucky I am.

We live in such a beautiful part of the world. The landscapes of the British Isles are as diverse as they are photogenic and with overseas travel difficult if not impossible, I have enjoyed being ‘stuck’ here over the last couple of years. In between lockdowns I have travelled to Snowdonia and Anglesey, Dorset and the Peak District as well of course as Suffolk and Norfolk both running workshops and researching and photographing new areas for future workshops. I’ve also managed to spend more time exploring and photographing locations in Essex for a new guidebook.

I found myself wondering whether I really needed to travel so far to earn a living and then the opportunity came up to return to Iceland to run a 10 day workshop and it was just too hard to resist. Iceland was one of the last places I visited before Covid rapidly changed the world as we knew it and I was more than a little excited to be going back.

I hadn’t been keeping abreast of the changing travel rules but while it took a bit of research before I was clear on what was required and I wasn’t particularly pleased by the additional costs involved (£200 on tests!), it was all fairly straightforward in practice and made very little difference to the journey. If anything, the quieter airports were far more pleasant than usual.

The trip started with the golden circle or at least part of it. Starting just 25 miles from the capital Reykjavik, tours around the Golden Circle (a series of attractions including Þingvellir National Park, Geysir geothermal area and Gullfoss) are extremely popular but although you won’t have the place to yourself, don’t dismiss these locations as for tourists rather than photographers.

Plunging 32m down two drops, Gullfoss moves an average of 140 cubic meters of water every second at its peak in summer. From some angles the lower falls appear to vanish into the ground tumbling, if the constant rumble of the water is anything to go by, into a bottomless chasm.

The journeys between points furthest east and west and the airport can be long so the itinerary had been planned to break each leg up and keep distances as short as possible, days are short here in winter and you don’t want to waste valuable shooting time on the road. With that in mind we headed east along the south coast to Vik, home to some epic coastal locations. From the elevated viewpoint of the nearby Dyrhólaey peninsular there are endless photographic opportunities looking along the notorious Reynisfjara beach to the east with the iconic rock stacks of Arnardrangur and Reynisdrangar, a huge rock arch to the south or the endless black sand beach stretching out to the western horizon. Following a calm sunrise it became worryingly windy on the clifftops tripods became useless and faces became numb from the cold wind and we eventually left for a more sheltered spot down on the beach itself.

Forecasts of further high winds forced us to change the itinerary and head towards the glacial lagoon at Jökulsárlón, a few hours east of Vik, sooner than planned. In Iceland wind gusts can be powerful enough to push cars off the road and with speeds of up to 40metres/second predicted that was looking likely later in the day. As it turned out the worst of the wind (51m/s or 114mph) came over night and we didn’t lose any shooting time but it was particularly fresh at Fjallsárlón the morning after!

Following an early start we arrived at the Diamond beach for a calm but subdued sunrise. Actually, when I say ‘early’ it’s all relative. It was early in the sense that, hours before sunrise, it was still pitch black outside but with sunrise at around 10.40am we still had time to have a leisurely breakfast at the hotel first!

The amount of ice washed up on this famous beach varies from day to day. I have been there when you can’t move for ice but on this occasion there was just a sparse scattering of lonely blocks in the surf. In my opinion you don’t need much to be able to create an image - just a single interesting block of ice and a bit of creativity with the shutter speed to add the desired amount of water motion. Some light would also be nice or an interesting sky but whatever the weather, I’m yet to see a photographer who didn’t lose hours engrossed in photographing this wonderful beach.

Across the road (literally) is Jökulsárlón glacial lagoon, the source of the ice on the beach and a spectacular sight regardless of how many people you are sharing it with. I always find It a little sad to think that this lake is a sign of how fast Iceland’s glaciers are shrinking. At 248m, it is the deepest lake in Iceland but 90 years ago it didn’t even exist. It first appeared in 1934, when Breiðamerkurjökull glacier started retreating and now it covers 18km².

Our furthest stop east is quite possibly my favourite part of Iceland, the mountains of Eystrahorn and Vestrahorn. It isn’t just how photogenic the mountains themselves are but their setting and the amount of options there are for photographing them. Each has an abundance and diversity of foreground interest from reflective pools to swirling seas perfect for swooshery, undulating black sand dunes or a sweeping bay of black sand. Even the views along the drive between the two mountains are stunning. As it was the weather was overcast and the reflective pool was frozen but it was glorious nonetheless.

Returning west the journey was broken up by another stop at Vik, this time staying inland. The highlight being the weird and wonderful Fjaðrárgljúfur Canyon, rendered almost monochrome by the falling snow.

The light on this and the next day was rather flat, the sky grey with the threat of snow but as much as we’d have liked brighter weather it couldn’t have been better timing. Next on our itinerary were two waterfalls - Skógafoss and Seljalandsfoss and I’d rather have dull weather when photographing waterfalls where it’s easy to leave the sky out of the composition and low contrast is a benefit than when I wanted to photograph a big view where including the sky was essential. Skógafoss is a magnificent waterfall, 25m wide it crashes 60m straight down over dark cliffs and turns beautifully silky with a low shutter speed. Like nearby Seljalandsfoss it is very busy and patience is required to capture it without people taking selfies in front of it!

The final stage of the tour was the Snæfellsnes peninsular but first we took a small detour to photograph the fantastic Hraunfossar waterfalls. In contrast to the brutish power of some of Iceland’s waterfalls, Hraunfossar is actually a series of small streams. These streams flow through the huge lava fields (Hraun means Lava) created by the eruption of one of the volcanoes lying under the nearby Langjökull glacier before cascading over rocky ledges into the turquoise waters of the River Hvita in a series of almost delicate falls spread over around 900m.

Although wider shots are possible I love the tighter compositions here, picking out individual waterfalls or small groups of them. There are plenty of different viewpoints of the falls as well, each giving a different perspective so you can easily lose hours here exploring the various angles or experimenting with the effects of different shutter speeds.

Immediately adjacent to Hraunfossar is another waterfall. Barnafoss, in contrast to its neighbour is more a series of rapids tumbling and churning through the narrow rocky gorge. Not as interesting photographically, Barnafoss (which means Children’s falls) get’s its name from a tragic story. Legend has it that an old stone bridge once crossed the falls and two boys, attempting to cross it to follow their parents going to the nearby church, fell from the bridge and drowned. The mother in grief ordered the bridge destroyed so it could never happen again.

Jutting out of the west coast of Iceland, Snæfellsnes peninsula is best known by photographers for the iconic Kirkjufell mountain but there is a lot more to discover here. In fact with a volcano, a glacier, lava fields, craters, waterfalls, black beaches, classic churches, dramatic mountains, fishing villages and rugged rocks jutting out like frozen trolls into the Atlantic, it is known as Iceland in Miniature.

One of my favourite spots is Arnastapi. The coast around this quiet village boats unusual rock stacks, basalt columns and Gatklettur, an impressively round rock arch. The village itself boasts some of Iceland’s oldest buildings including the Danish Prefect’s house dating back to the 1770’s.

West along the coast from Arnastapi are the twin rock stacks at Lóndrangar. Rising 75m and 61m from the sea at the end of basalt cliffs, they are all that is left of a volcanic crater. The cliff tops, with the sea crashing over and swirling around the rocks below are a great place for dramatic wide-angle shots.

At 463m, Kirkjufell isn’t particularly high by Icelandic standards but its distinctive shape and isolated location make it the most prominent. Arriving with the pastel pinks of dawn we were treated to perfect winter conditions at a snow covered Kirkjufell. Despite the claim that it is the most photographed mountain in Iceland we enjoyed virtually the whole morning, exploring different compositions looking across Kirkjufellsfoss (a perfectly placed waterfall if ever there was one), with the place to ourselves.

Covered in pitch to protect it from the harsh environment of the Icelandic coast, Búðakirkja, the black church is another place not to be missed on the peninsular. The church is a wonderful subject but what you can’t always appreciate in photos is how remote it feels. Sitting amid the Búðahraunhe lava field, the tiny church, a much newer version than the 18th century original is all that remains of Budir once a prosperous fishing village. The only other building in sight is the neighbouring. (and highly recommended) Hotel Budir.

So, as well as closer shots of the building it is well worth exploring the surrounding lava fields for wider views to show the diminutive church dwarfed by the grand backdrop of Snæfellsjökull, the 1446 metre tall glacier sitting atop 700,000-year-old stratovolcano for which the peninsular is named.

This is also a perfect location to photograph the northern lights and having been plagued with either heavy cloud or lack of aurora activity throughout the trip our luck finally changed on the very last night. The aurora began its display conveniently just after dinner and in a matter of minutes we were photographing a sky filled with shimmering green and pink over the church… the perfect ending.

Thinking of planning a trip to Iceland? James Rushforth’s guidebook is essential reading
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