Early wake-up without breakfast to go to the beach and photograph pieces
of ice at sunrise.
Since the center of the island is locked during
winter then beach holiday is the only option. With ice the system is
organized so that from the glacier pieces of ice fall into the lake,
the river carries ice to the sea and waves throw it on the beach.
Shining ice on black sand. In the evening we were given instructions
about handling the ice, as is the custom. What lens you're supposed to
use and so on.
Plenty of ice on the beach. And no footprints. Yet. There's a trick for getting better pictures. You have to walk a bit further away from the parking lot because those with an attention span of a rodent can't walk very far. Then you have to look for a suitable piece of ice (beautiful, with interesting shape, transparent, away from the water but not too much), set your camera and wait for the wave. Low tide is about to begin but still some waves are so active that I consider it wise to back off. Leaving the composition behind. Others are not so anxious which results in two wet cameras, one wet camera bag and one wet person. Warning did not help.
I tend to ignore the general picture-taking-euphoria and most of the time just wander around with my hands in the pockets. Because it's simply beautiful. For the rest of the company nature seems to be not enviroment but background, object, angle, scene that has to be recorded, aimed at, shot and lighted. And no mention of culture. A country - this is a photographically set landscape. Besides, no chance of practicing Icelandic until the evening of the 19th. That kind of pre-prepared trip is of course comfortable but extremely harrowing at the same time. Intensifies learned helplessness, no doubt. I have to make an effort to locate my position on the map.
The co-operaton with the weather today is marvelous. Dry, some wind, some sun. The ice is shining, seagulls and other birds fly to the right. After crawling on the beach for two and a half hours there's breakfast.
The next object is the glacier lagoon. I guess there will be no stripping Spanich woman today (yes, there was one yesterday).
Light blue puddles line the road, in front of snow-capped mountains. Ice, snow and moss by turns just like the nature hadn't decided yet if here should be land or sea.
One road going to the lagoon is fully covered in snow. The other one gets us somewhat closer to continue on foot. Doing that there's an opportunity to sink knee-deep in snow every third step. Sun glares down and that had its disadvantages. Snow is especially soft. We can't reach the water though because there's too much spontanous water before it. We hang around at a distance and zoom the glacier closer.
Soup and 'we'll see what we can see by the sea'-excursion. The beach is no longer picturesque but embroidered with footprints and the ice is too far away from the waves, so we just drive along the coast, stop here and there and make pictures of puddles and moss. Also nice. Then we find horses. Icelandic horses. Tourists freak out. Luckily no-one has bread with them.
Everyone is very frolicsome during dinner.
Plenty of ice on the beach. And no footprints. Yet. There's a trick for getting better pictures. You have to walk a bit further away from the parking lot because those with an attention span of a rodent can't walk very far. Then you have to look for a suitable piece of ice (beautiful, with interesting shape, transparent, away from the water but not too much), set your camera and wait for the wave. Low tide is about to begin but still some waves are so active that I consider it wise to back off. Leaving the composition behind. Others are not so anxious which results in two wet cameras, one wet camera bag and one wet person. Warning did not help.
I tend to ignore the general picture-taking-euphoria and most of the time just wander around with my hands in the pockets. Because it's simply beautiful. For the rest of the company nature seems to be not enviroment but background, object, angle, scene that has to be recorded, aimed at, shot and lighted. And no mention of culture. A country - this is a photographically set landscape. Besides, no chance of practicing Icelandic until the evening of the 19th. That kind of pre-prepared trip is of course comfortable but extremely harrowing at the same time. Intensifies learned helplessness, no doubt. I have to make an effort to locate my position on the map.
The co-operaton with the weather today is marvelous. Dry, some wind, some sun. The ice is shining, seagulls and other birds fly to the right. After crawling on the beach for two and a half hours there's breakfast.
The next object is the glacier lagoon. I guess there will be no stripping Spanich woman today (yes, there was one yesterday).
Light blue puddles line the road, in front of snow-capped mountains. Ice, snow and moss by turns just like the nature hadn't decided yet if here should be land or sea.
One road going to the lagoon is fully covered in snow. The other one gets us somewhat closer to continue on foot. Doing that there's an opportunity to sink knee-deep in snow every third step. Sun glares down and that had its disadvantages. Snow is especially soft. We can't reach the water though because there's too much spontanous water before it. We hang around at a distance and zoom the glacier closer.
Soup and 'we'll see what we can see by the sea'-excursion. The beach is no longer picturesque but embroidered with footprints and the ice is too far away from the waves, so we just drive along the coast, stop here and there and make pictures of puddles and moss. Also nice. Then we find horses. Icelandic horses. Tourists freak out. Luckily no-one has bread with them.
Everyone is very frolicsome during dinner.
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