Ice, massive ancient glacial ice, sagging and flowing under its own weight;
A great white beast, carving and devouring the mountains which contain it,
creeping forward, unstoppable;
It’s only foe, sunlight and warmth.
I stand humbled by its patient and persistent force.
– Ed Lehming
Svínafelsjökull glacier, or rather, the “glacier of Svínafels”, since jökull is Icelandic for glacier is actually one of the smaller glacial outflows associated with Hvannadalshnúkur, mentioned in a prior post.
I saw this glacier ahead of us as we continued to travel east along Iceland’s Ring Road. The sheer size of this incredible mass of snow and ice, piled high between the rugged peaks is humbling. The photo hardly does justice to the scale. At the far right foreground, a few vehicles sit parked along the road in front of a terminal moraine of this glacier. Basically, a pile of rock created by the front of the glacier plowing up the ground in front of it. The moraine itself is over 50 meters high and hides the lead edge of the glacier and the glacial pond formed by the meltwater trapped behind the moraine. More on that in a future post.
As we drove, ever closer, I hoped the road would bring me closer to this magnificent sight. I was not disappointed, the road came to within two kilometers of the glacier itself and we had opportunity to get even closer via a horribly potholed dirt road that led us to paths along side of the glacier and around the pond below.
As I said, the experience of walking along precipitous trails next to this massive and ancient ice is humbling, as we gazed across the deep crevasses of the slowly melting glacier and witnessing, close up, the unbelievable colours and patterns of the ice within meters of us. Then, looking upwards and seeing ice on ice, wedged between unyielding rock, piled ever higher and disappearing into the clouds above us.
Nikon D800
Tamron SP 70-200mm f/2.8 Di VC USD @ 172mm
1/320 sec, f/9.0, ISO 200
For more images like this, please visit my website (images are available for purchase)
http://www.edlehming.com
“It’s when rock breaks its silence that it crumbles to dust.”
―
Today’s image is a closer look at the massive, dark cliff visible in yesterday’s post. This cliff, Lómagnúpsnef (nef is Icelandic for nose), dominated the horizon for a long time, ever brightening with more details emerging from the shadows as we got closer to it. There are many more details that I’m aware of, now that I’m not behind the wheel or standing along the road with my camera.
This large outcropping, which also acts as an unmovable boundary to the Skeiðarárjokull glacier, which is hidden behind the cliff’s talus slope in this image, reveals its wonderful colours and textures. The colour comes from the varied layers of basalt, which is the dark volcanic rock, and rhyolite, a pink-orange coloured volcanic rock. The difference in colour being the result of different mineral chemistry. Each layer would have been formed at a different period in time, deep underground.
The colour does not stop at the cliff itself; it continues down the slopes in tones or pink, orange and faint streaks of green.
The varied colours of this land really surprised me, since it is technically classified as tundra. I was not expecting all these bright colours, especially in the subdued late October sun, often blocked by layers of cloud.
Nikon D800
Tamron SP 70-200mm f/2.8 Di VC USD @ 130mm
1/250 sec, f/8.0, ISO 200
For more images like this, please visit my website (images are available for purchase)
http://www.edlehming.com
“The Road goes ever on and on
Down from the door where it began.
Now far ahead the Road has gone,
And I must follow, if I can,
Pursuing it with eager feet,
Until it joins some larger way
Where many paths and errands meet.
And whither then? I cannot say”
―
This single photo can sum up my Icelandic journey. By the way, I was not driving when I made this photo, I stopped and stepped onto the sparsely travelled road. The landscape, in its varied layers, over the visible distance, changes from rugged lava fields, the Eldhraun, covered in ancient moss, to rugged plateaus and the ever present yellow grasses flanked by steep talus slopes, filled with waterfalls and the dark high cliffs of Lómagnúpsnef, the bounding landmark to the western edge of the massive Skeiðarársandur, yet another glacial washout plain, this one, some 56 km wide and filled with a tangled network of creeks and rivers winding their way through black sand and golden grass to the sea. Their source: the vast glacier field known as Vatnatjökull, visible in the far distance.
As the road makes another turn, a huge boulder dominates the scene and yet another waterfall, Gulufoss, I believe, falls from the rim of the plateau. I can picture this plateau in late spring, spewing water through every crack and crevice.
Actually, only one of the glaciers that make up Vatnatjökull is visible in this image, Skeiðarárjokull, the source of the washout, can be seen stretching out in a bright white plain before the distant mountains and glaciers of Hvannadalshnúkur, Iceland’s highest peak, a 2,119 meter high volcano, also covered in ice, the summit obscured by clouds.
As the day progressed and we drew nearer to Hvannadalshnúkur, I found myself hiking through mossy lava fields to get a closer look at a small waterfall, driving a small potholed dirt road that rattled my teeth to get a closer view of Svínafelsjökull, one of several outflow glaciers coming from Hvannadalshnúkur. Here, I could almost touch the fractured glacier as it flowed between the mountains, melting into a muddy pool, filled with glacial icebergs of varying size and colour. We then spend time along the pond, enjoying the icebergs in their variety. I even had the chance to pick up a small, crystal clear fragment and taste it. A magnificent and unexpected experience. It was oh, so pure and pleasant. The taste of a glacier!
My journey, as I reflect on these images and memories did not end when I flew home, rather, it continues, as I begin to understand the incredible forces and dynamics that shape this country.
Nikon D800
Tamron SP 70-200mm f/2.8 Di VC USD @ 200mm
1/160 sec, f/6.3, ISO 200
For more images like this, please visit my website (images are available for purchase)
http://www.edlehming.com
“There was an ocean above us, held in by a thin sac that might rupture and let down a flood at any second.”
―
Mýrdalssandur is a massive outwash plain just east of the town of Vik, on Iceland’s south coast. The Ring Road enters this area after a short run along the mountains near Vik. I have never seen anything like this and at first had no idea what I was witnessing. As far as the eye can see, the landscape has been washed flat, yellow grasses and moss cling tenuously to the black sand, gravel, and lava boulders that make up this vast area for some 25 kilometers. There are warning signs along the road that dust storms of fine black sand, resembling smoke, can be created, if the conditions are right. I was concerned, as we entered the region, as the winds whipped up to over 80 km/h, but the recent rains and coastal fog held the dust down.
Threading their way through this barren landscape are glacial streams of varying size, faint reminders of the torrents of water, or jökulhlaup (glacial outwashes), that created this area.
This region was most recently sculpted by an enormous jökulhlaup, the result of a subglacial eruption of the nearby volcano, Katla.
In 1918, Katla erupted underneath the enormous glacier, Mýrdalsjökull (seen in the background, just beneath the clouds), melting the glacier below the surface and forming a massive sub-glacial lake. The volcano continued to erupt under the ice and increasing pressure caused it to burst out the side of the glacier, creating a violent flood, of water, ice and volcanic debris. The water volume at the peak of the jökulhlaup was estimated to be around 200,000 – 300,000 m³/s, making it, for a brief time, the largest river in the world, based on the volume of water. The jökulhlaup absolutely devastated the area, wiping out homes and farms and leaving this mainly barren plain as evidence of its power.
The region is largely unsettled, primarily due to the risks of future eruptions of Katla, which remains active below the ice, and the frequent jökulhlaups. Because of this and the alien look of the landscape, it was used for the opening scene of the Star Wars, Rogue One movie.
Nikon D800
Tamron SP 70-200mm f/2.8 Di VC USD @ 70mm
1/250 sec, f/8.0, ISO 200
For more images like this, please visit my website (images are available for purchase)
http://www.edlehming.com
“The places where water comes together with other water. Those places stand out in my mind like holy places.”
―
Water upon water, water flowing everywhere, from the high and cold places, that is Iceland.
And this, is one of the most known waterfalls for a few reasons. Skógafoss is one of the largest waterfalls in Iceland, at 60 meters in height and 25 meters wide. It’s also just a short drive from Reykjavik and one of the first significant waterfalls you see for the Ring Road, Highway 1. It’s also very easily accessible. In fact, you can walk right up to it. You’ll get soaked by the mist in seconds, but you can walk right up to it, as many people did on this rainy October day.
The waterfall itself is on the River Skóga, this the name Skóga / foss (Skóga / waterfall). It’s actually one of many waterfalls on the Skóga river, but the others are much smaller and further up the river from Skógafoss.
As I mentioned, many people walk right up to it; people with cellphones, point and shoot cameras, and the hardcore photographers with their tripods and water resistant coverings, all wanting to take some memory of the beautiful place home with them.
You’d think this would be dangerous, but despite the height of the waterfall, the actual volume flowing over it is not as great as you’d think. I would not recommend showering under it, but you can get very close, and very wet!
As I said, we visited on a rainy day, so were already in our rain gear as we approached. It did make for stunning photos either, as I was trying to get an angle that did not have people in it and the fine mist and rain provided me with a soft white background rather than a few clouds and blue sky. I also did not want to commit to bringing a tripod and setting up like many others, so shot this handheld at 1/8 of a second, which is the best I can do at shooting hand held. Thank goodness for the Vibration reduction in modern lenses.
I thoroughly enjoyed being there and taking in this wonderful sight, despite the spray of water and the cool temperatures. It looks much more pleasant in the summer, though I expect it would be packed with people.
Nikon D800
Tamron SP 70-200mm f/2.8 Di VC USD @ 78mm
1/8 sec, f/13.0, ISO 200
For more images like this, please visit my website (images are available for purchase)
http://www.edlehming.com
We pass through the present with our eyes blindfolded. We are permitted merely to sense and guess at what we are actually experiencing. Only later when the cloth is untied can we glance at the past and find out what we have experienced and what meaning it has.”
―
I chose the attached quote for several reasons. First, and foremost, I’m referring to the ever changeable nature of Iceland’s landscapes. Many times, only small glimpses revealed themselves, hinting at something grander, yet unseen. Other times, a scene would reveal itself for just a brief period and then be obscured by clouds once more. Secondly, much of what I experienced is just starting to sink in now. I’m discovering names of places, mountains, glaciers, and waterfalls that, even though we had a good travel book with us, did not ‘fit’ together into a continuous story.
We experienced mini vistas, in isolation from each other. Recalling these ‘moments’ and the photos associated with them, fills in the experience some time after the experience itself. Understanding how these places and natural systems work together has given me a whole new appreciation for the wonder that is natural Iceland.
I’ve reviewing images that I believed that I made in one place only to find it was in a slightly different location altogether and that the surroundings are more significant than I had realized while there.
The images and associated stories, now expanded, provide a deeper meaning to the experience and I find myself getting a bit emotional about them. Putting myself back in that particular time and space and discovering them over again, with a fuller understanding and appreciation.
The volcanic mountain, or stratovolcano, pictured her is Ok. Yes, that’s its name. Even though we had driven in very close proximity to it and saw it on our map, we never actually saw the volcano till we were driving away and it briefly revealed itself though the clouds, behind us. Really? How do you not see a mountain? In Iceland, it’s quite easy and I wonder how many other wonders the clouds hid from our view?
In a way, my journey through this beautiful country continues, as my understanding and appreciation expands.
Nikon D800
Nikkor 70-300mm f/4.5-5.6 G I AF-S VR Zoom @ 300 mm
1/250 sec, f/8.0 ISO 200
For more images like this, please visit my website (images are available for purchase)
http://www.edlehming.com
“Those who contemplate the beauty of the earth find reserves of strength that will endure as long as life lasts. There is something infinitely healing in the repeated refrains of nature — the assurance that dawn comes after night, and spring after winter.”
―
I couldn’t help but match my favourite Rachel Carson quote with this image. The scene above left me breathless as I beheld it for the first time. I was captivated be the shape of the high mountains which bound this relatively short Eastern Icelandic fjord, Hamarsjörður, and the stunning play of light on both the peaks and the flanking foothills. When I return to Iceland, next time, I plan to spend more time travelling these spectacular fjords.
In the foreground is Nontindur, a stunning 935 meter high pyramid-like peak. I was enthralled by these mountains the first time I saw them, the recent high level snowfalls accenting the horizontal tiers that make the peaks in this region so unique.
The light that morning, as we followed the Ring Road along the southern coast eastward from the town of Höfn, was absolutely gorgeous and makes the ever-present yellow grasses glow with a soft golden warmth that we experienced so many times on our journey. I was concerned that travelling to Iceland at this time of year might make for some fairly dull images, but was so pleased when I revisited these locations in Google Street View to find that the light and colours that I experienced were by far better than that of summer, at least in the Google images.
As I composed the shot, from the side of the road, all the elements came together once more to produce this post card-like image that so wonderfully conveys the feelings I experienced while standing there, taking in the beauty.
In this case, as in several other shots I have been sharing, I deliberately put an object in the foreground to help establish scale. In this case, the freshly installed and sharpened fence post nicely echoes the shape of the mountains behind it and seems to be pointing to the peak itself.
Once more, I’m including the Street View link so you can also take in the surroundings that make up this shot. This is the exact spot I pulled off. You can even see the gate and fence post in the foreground 🙂
“Mountains, according to the angle of view, the season, the time of day, the beholder’s frame of mind, or any one thing, can effectively change their appearance. Thus, it is essential to recognize that we can never know more than one side, one small aspect of a mountain.”
―
More mountains, their scale lost against the massive northern Icelandic fjord, Eyjafjörður. The highest peak, at the center, Kerahnjúkur, rising to 1,097 meters.
This was our view as we continued our round trip of Iceland, descending from high passes to enter the region around Akureyri, Iceland’s second largest city, which sits at the innermost end of this 60 km long fjord, the longest in Iceland.
I was mesmerized at the stark whiteness of the mountains against the slate blue water of the fjord, coupled with the wonderful pinks in the distant clouds; layers upon layers of colour and texture. The entire region beyond these mountains, the Tröllaskagi peninsula, is defined by high, rugged, and glacier topped peaks and long, deep valleys.
The image was made at the end of October and yet, the entire landscape is like a scene from the arctic circle, which, while close, is till some 60 kilometers distant from this point. In fact, while Iceland is close to the Arctic Circle, none of the mainland is actually in the arctic, only a few northern islands can make that claim.
Once more, I’m adding the Street View link, so you can get a sense of scale. The image above is the mountains to the distant right on the Street View image:
Nikon D800
Tamron SP 70-200mm f/2.8 Di VC USD @ 200mm
1/200 sec, f/7.1 ISO 200
For more images like this, please visit my website (images are available for purchase)
http://www.edlehming.com
“We are now in the mountains and they are in us, kindling enthusiasm, making every nerve quiver, filling every pore and cell of us.”
―
It feels a bit odd using a John Muir quote here, because they know the mountains he is referring to, namely the Sierra Nevada of California and Yosemite National Park. Yet, his words ring true in these mountains as well. On this day, my son and I headed south, towards the coastal town of Borgarnes, in Western Iceland.
As we drove south from the Westfjords, a large group of mountains greeted us on the far horizon. These mountains are centered around Skarðsheiði, a 1,054 m peak. In the foreground, and just peeking through a large bank of low cloud was Skessuhorn, a steep mountain with its wonderful terraced slopes. I just kept looking at it, hoping the road would bring me nearer and that the cloud cover would not increase.
In fact, the cloud bank clung to the mountains all day and only Skessuhorn has clearly visible to us. So, when you look at this image, be aware that, in typical Iceland fashion, much of what is before is not currently visible, only being revealed for short periods and then gone again.
For me, it’s these fantastic horizontal terraces that give many Icelandic mountains such a unique appearance, as opposed to North America’s Rocky Mountains, which, while still layered, are angled. These mountains look like pyramids, with layers carefully planned out and neatly stacked. It all has to do with the unique geology of Iceland, which straddles two continental plates, creating volcanoes and areas of tectonic upheaval that sculpt the rock in such marvelous ways. By the way, this is a colour photo, but the colour is lost, in snow and rock and cloud.
Here’s the summer time Street View link. I think it looks much nicer in November:
Nikon D800
Tamron SP 70-200mm f/2.8 Di VC USD @ 180mm
1/200 sec, f/7.1 ISO 200
For more images like this, please visit my website (images are available for purchase)
http://www.edlehming.com
“Snow flurries began to fall and they swirled around people’s legs like house cats. It was magical, this snow globe world.”
―
Here’s yet another image, made during a recent snow squall, a squall which abruptly shoved us closer to winter.
The large flakes quickly stuck to branches weighing them down and obscuring all traces of autumn with their bright purity.
I got out around noon to try to capture some of this wonder and was pleased that the ‘feel’ of the snow squall translated well through my images despite the flat light and the thick and continuous snowfall.
Nikon D800
Tamron SP 70-200mm f/2.8 Di VC USD @ 140mm
1/800 sec, f/2.8, ISO 160
For more images like this, please visit my website (images are available for purchase)
http://www.edlehming.com
“In November, the earth is growing quiet. It is making its bed, a winter bed for flowers and small creatures. The bed is white and silent, and much life can hide beneath its blankets.”
―
I wanted to post another photo of the beautiful wintery scenes created by last Friday’s snow squalls. Though a bit early for my liking, heavy snows turned the world into a wonderland in mere minutes.
The world now lays buried under this thick blanket of snow, only hints of autumn’s brightness remain, in stubborn yellow leaves, shining brightly between the large snowflakes.
Beyond that, colours are soft and subdued, the world is quiet, as if taking a deep breath before it’s winter repose.
Nikon D800
Tamron SP 70-200mm f/2.8 Di VC USD @ 95mm
1/200 sec, f/8.0, ISO 400
For more images like this, please visit my website (images are available for purchase)
http://www.edlehming.com
“Look with open eyes and you will see the beauty of the waterfall.”
―
In this post, I decided to return to Hraunfossar, as fascinating series of waterfalls in Western Iceland.
What makes these falls so amazing, is that at first glance, they look like typical waterfalls, pouring down from some glacial stream. But, on further inspection, you realize that there is no stream involved here, at least not in the typical sense.
You see, Hraunerfosser, or Lava Falls, in Icelandic, comes from underground rivers, flowing through the Hallmundarhraun lava tunnels from a significant distance. The glaciers which feed these waterfalls are many kilometers away, but can been seen on the distant horizon.
I particularly enjoyed this location, since it’s just far away from Reykjavik to decrease the number of tourists, thought there was a single bus here when we arrived, but the crowds were quite spread out. This allowed me the time to really enjoy this natural beauty without contending with the accursed selfie-sticks and people posing precariously on the rocks to get that perfect Instagram worthy shot.
The location does have some very well laid out and spacious viewing areas. Again, minimizing the tenancy for people to climb barriers for a ‘personalized’ view. It also provided some nice places to set up my tripod to make a series of long exposure images and to visually explore this beautiful place without people bumping into me or walking in front of my camera.
By “exploring visually”, I mean being able to take the time to really appreciate the fine details that make this waterfall so lovely. For example, the fine ribbons, jsu left of centre on the shot above, yielded this detail, as the ribbons flowed gently over the rock surfaces:
The detail of the water, the texture of the rock, and the vibrant colours of the wet mosses made for a beautiful photo, which for me, really captures the essence of this waterfall, or rather series of waterfalls, which just blend together into a complex and curtain of flowing water.
Of all the massive and humble falls I saw, I think I was most captivated by this one.
Nikon D800
Nikkor 70-300mm f/4.5-5.6 G I AF-S VR Zoom @ 92mm
1.0 sec, f/32.0, ISO 200
For more images like this, please visit my website (images are available for purchase)
http://www.edlehming.com
“In November, the trees are standing all sticks and bones. Without their leaves, how lovely they are, spreading their arms like dancers. They know it is time to be still.”
―
Today I decide to make a short departure from my Iceland Journal, though that will continue for some time, as I continue to process the images and memories.
While I revel in those times, not so long ago, nature reminded me that there is beauty here in the present as well. An early November squall brought us a winter wonderland in mid-November.
Some trees are still hanging on to their leaves and it is not quite time to say farewell to yellow and orange for the season. Through the heavy snowfall, bright leaves still shine, bringing colour to the otherwise monotone landscape. Those too will soon be gone. I’m sure the weight of the snow and the cold nights will accelerate their departure as the world falls into the quiet gray sleep of winter, once more.
I did not have to go far afield for this image, it was made just steps from my home, at a local conservation area which always has some new wonder to offer me. Today was no exception.
Nikon D800
Tamron SP 70-200mm f/2.8 Di VC USD @ 122mm
1/200 sec, f/8.0, ISO 400
For more images like this, please visit my website (images are available for purchase)
http://www.edlehming.com
“The stars looked down at me from infinite space. We are tiny, they said, but you are insignificant.”
―
On the first day of my Iceland trip, something that came to my attention, almost immediately, was the incredible contrast in scale between the land itself and man-made things, particularly houses, which seem so insignificant against the mass of rock and ice that surrounds them.
Here, a farm which has guest cottages, presumably for hikers venturing into the highlands, seems overwhelmed by its grand surroundings. In the background the rock rises ever higher, disappearing into the clouds.
The icecap , far above, covers Eyjafjallajökull, the volcano, which erupted back in 2010, stalling air traffic through most of Europe. Remember that one? The name that nobody could pronounce? It simply became, “That volcano in Iceland.” By the way, I’ve been getting ever better at pronouncing Icelandic places, including this, simply through researching the places I visited and repeating the names, over and over.
Well, that volcano is in this farm’s backyard, and I often found myself wondering what that would be like, having one of nature’s most powerful and dangerous creations so close.
The coastal plain that this farm faces is a vast, flat lava field, created by previous eruptions, and endless streams of meltwater flows through streams lined with black volcanic rock. The farm, occupies a very small place in time and geography. It was only one of many along the way.
Once more, I’m adding the Google Street View link for perspective:
Nikon D800
Tamron SP 70-200mm f/2.8 Di VC USD @ 92mm
1/125 sec, f/5.6, ISO 200
For more images like this, please visit my website (images are available for purchase)
http://www.edlehming.com
“Waterfall and Barn” – Þjóðvegur, South Shore, Iceland
“The icy waters flow and drop in silver streams from high cliff tops; they nourish the land and flow among the ancient bedrock and volcanic debris; sculpting, cleansing, and nourishing this rugged landscape with their cool purity and gentle persistence”
– Ed Lehming
It seemed like this stretch of highway between Vik and Höfn was lined with some form of waterfall for much of the early part of the drive. This high and ancient plateau oozed water from every crack and crevice, creating waterfalls in so many forms it is hard to describe them all.
There were slow meandering ribbons of water that followed the slope of the land and high thundering falls that plunged through the void to thunder upon on rocks far below, and some flowed in wide ribbons across exposed rock, like a vast white curtain in the wind.
The source of all this water, kilometers from our sight, is the ancient ice fields and glaciers of Vatnajökull, covering some 14,000 square kilometers of Iceland’s interior in snow and ice.
With the number of waterfalls and the flow of the water, I can only imagine what spring and early summer must be like, as even in late October, it was simply magnificent to behold.
I read somewhere that Iceland has over 10,000 waterfalls. From my experiences during my ten-day trip, I think that number falls far short from reality. There are waterfalls everywhere. In fact, it was tough, being a ‘flatlander’ not to stop every few minutes along the highway to make yet another photo.
It should also be noted, for those new to Iceland, that many of these smaller waterfalls, while clearly visible from the highway are on private property and can only be viewed from a distance.
Along this coast, one side of the highway is the high plateau, while the other side is an endless lava field that stretches for kilometers south before meeting the shore of the North Atlantic.
I’ve embedded the Google Maps view for your reference:
https://www.google.ca/maps/@63.8506677,-17.9003383,3a,75y,342.02h,97.82t/data=!3m6!1e1!3m4!1sKddaHD6706lpCl-pw1tqHw!2e0!7i13312!8i6656
Nikon D800
Tamron SP 70-200mm f/2.8 Di VC USD @ 70mm
1/200 sec, f/7.1, ISO 200
For more images like this, please visit my website (images are available for purchase)
http://www.edlehming.com
“Sunlight will always follow in a clouds wake.”
―
One of the aspects of Iceland that I enjoyed most was that nothing lasts very long. It does not rain all day, nor snow all day, sunshine comes and goes, and the clouds above shift and morph by the minute.
Oh, the clouds and light of Iceland, they are simply unbelievable. Clouds come in layers, each layer with a mind of its own, passing and sliding between one another. One moment you are looking at a dark bank of low clouds on the horizon and minutes later, they slide back like a magical curtain revealing a mountain hidden among them.
The volcanic cone pictured here is Strútur, and ancient volcano in the highlands of western Iceland. As we ventured further inland, seeking the many wonderful waterfalls, one of the roads we had planned to drive turned out to be a “F” Road, one of Iceland’s many interior mountains roads, generally only accessible with rugged four-wheel drive vehicles and largely closed in winter months. This road was marked as a side road on our map, but as we ventured onto it the signage indicated that is was, in fact” an “F” Road, meaning our rental insurance was null and void if we travelled that road.
This slight setback caused us to turn back and take another road to our destination. That decision put us on a road that briefly headed deeper into Iceland’s backcountry and facing a think bank of clouds reaching across the distant horizon of low, rolling hills and lava fields.
As we progressed along this road, the clouds pulled back and revealed this wonderful sight. Strútur, is a large volcanic cone and is 937 meters high. You can see where the cone collapsed and the lava flowed outwards to where I made the photo.
Soon after I made the photo, the clouds rolled back in and obscured the mountain once more.
Once again, Iceland provided me with a brief and wonderful vista and then took it back again, all within mere minutes.
Nikon D800
Tamron SP 70-200mm f/2.8 Di VC USD @ 116mm
1/320 sec, f/9.0 ISO 200
For more images like this, please visit my website (images are available for purchase)
http://www.edlehming.com
“There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,
There is a rapture on the lonely shore,
There is society, where none intrudes,
By the deep sea, and music in its roar:
I love not man the less, but Nature more”
―
This was a common scene along many stretches of Iceland’s Ring Road; beautiful cabins on the mountainsides. I’m a bit envious. I’d love to stop at one of these retreats for a few days, surrounded by mountains and waterfalls. I know I’d spend my time reading and writing, inspired by the wonders of nature. Some, like this one, have small groves of trees planted around or near them, probably as a wind screen or source of firewood. The ever-present yellow grasses and mosses bring a splash of welcome colour to the wind-whipped landscape. Though the scene is primarily rock and snow, there is a peaceful and humbling majesty to it.
There were a few times, as we hiked some of the lower mountain trails when I would simply stand still, listening to the sounds of water flowing down the hillsides, the wind howling far above, and sometimes, just silence, peaceful, blessed silence.
My trip to Iceland last month was a balm to my soul; a much-needed pause in a busy and increasingly stressful world. For me to spend ten solid days with my son, with no real schedule, no firm plans, and to simply ‘be’ in this wonderful place has restored me.
To have the ability to capture some of what I experienced in photos is a blessing I am so thankful for. I can sit and review these moments and memories, each one stirring my soul and reminding me that there are still places of peace and wonder in this busy world.
In a way, the photos have become my cabin on the hill, a place that I can visit when I need to pause for a bit and restore myself. Though it’s not quite the same as the actual cabin, it brings be closer to that place.
Nikon D800
Tamron SP 70-200mm f/2.8 Di VC USD @ 116mm
1/250 sec, f/8.0 ISO 200
For more images like this, please visit my website (images are available for purchase)
http://www.edlehming.com
“Kleifarvatn” – South-East Iceland
“The very land oozed sulphurous steam, as if some ancient beast trapped below was exhaling through the cracks in the earth, yet the morning light filled the air with a quiet peace”
– Ed Lehming
Day 10, our final day in this wonderful land of contrasts: Fire and Ice, vast black plains and towering mountains. The land of endless waterfalls and barren lava fields.
On this final day, our loop ended where Highway 42 met Highway 427 along the south coast of Iceland, where our journey began on a dark morning at the end of October. We covered some 2,700 km of highways, side roads, and potholed dirt tracks.
The most amazing thing I discovered on this trip with my son is the incredible and indescribable diversity of this country. Every single vista, from majestic seaside mountains to the endless black and tortured lava fields is that there are surprises when you take the time to look closely.
I made far too many photos of the mountains we passed, but I fell in love with the Icelandic mountains, in their many forms, from tiered pyramids to flattened cones and every variation between. Some were pure black, made of ages of fine cinder and ash, while others were deep brown, covered in eons of moss. like ancient temples.
The deeper and more carefully you looked, the more wonderful they became, revealing details not noticed at first.
That is why I chose this as the final photo in this overview of our trip. When first composing the photo, I saw a lovely mountain lake with steaming volcanic vents in the distance. But, like the rest of the land, closer inspection reveals herds of grazing Icelandic horses and a farmhouse among the vents. The stark landscape opens up to be more than you first expect or see and the light, which shift sby the minute, always reveals more wonder.
The lake, in this photo, is called Kleifarvatn and is situated within one of Iceland’s many ‘rift’ valleys, areas of active geothermal activity. We drove around the lake, only a short drive from Reykjavik, on our way to the Krýsuvík Geothermal Area, a region of belching and bubbling mud pots, thermal vents, and hot springs as well as brightly coloured rocks, crusted with minerals. or final ‘photographic” destination before dropping off the rental car and heading to the airport.
Much of the trip was really about the journey and not the destination. As we drove to some of the more popular sites we were constantly amazed at the beautiful landscape between, despite low cloud and a constant dusting of snow at higher altitudes.
There are so many more places that we visited that a simple day by day review does not suffice. I will continue sharing some of the highlights of this trip over the next few weeks, retracing our journey around Iceland’s Ring-Road.
Nikon D800
Tamron SP 70-200mm f/2.8 Di VC USD @ 145mm
1/400 sec, f/10.0 ISO 200
For more images like this, please visit my website (images are available for purchase)
http://www.edlehming.com
“Videy Island” – Reykjavik, Iceland
“You may say I’m a dreamer, but I’m not the only one. I hope someday you’ll join us. And the world will live as one.”
―
This was our final full day in the glorious land known as Iceland and we spent the day touring the city on foot, starting at the harbour front. I could not help but be entranced by the raw beauty of this place, even when surrounded by a bustling and busy European City.
Looking across the bay, my eyes were drawn to the vast mountain plateau and distant volcanic peaks that dominate the horizon. In front of this snowy majesty sits a small, uninhabited island known as Videy Island . You’ll notice a single large building. This is Videy House, now a restaurant and historical centre.
Something that I did not notice, when I was composing the photo, is the small white structure, just left of centre. It turns out that this is the Imagine Peace Tower and is an outdoor artwork conceived by Yoko Ono, in memory of her late husband, John Lennon.
It’s a tower of light designed to communicate to the world that peace and love is what connects us. It is lit every night from October 9th (John’s birthday) until December 8th (the anniversary of his death). It’s also lit on the Winter Solstice and New Years Day.
Sadly, while we were there, I was still under the weather and did not have the opportunity to see it lit up.
Nikon D800
Nikkor 70-300mm f/4.5-5.6 G I AF-S VR Zoom @ 170mm
1/400 sec, f/11.0, ISO 400
For more images like this, please visit my website (images are available for purchase)
http://www.edlehming.com
“Hvammsfjörður” – Western Iceland
“Those who live by the sea can hardly form a single thought of which the sea would not be part.”
―
There was a slight delay in my posts over the past few days. You see, for the last 2 days of my ten day Iceland trip, I was sick with some sort of gastro-intestinal infection. I have no idea where it came from. It felt like flu, but we really have had minimal contact with people, other than shopkeepers and our guesthouse hosts. In nay case, I was quite ill and fell behind on my posts.
On day eight we headed back inland and I have yet to process those photos. We left Borgarnes toward Reyjavik and decided to avoid the tunnel that connects the Akrenes peninsula with the mainland.
We had heard from on of our guesthouse hosts that there was still a whaling station active at the end of Hvalfjörður, Icelandic for the Whaling Fjord. It added a bit to our drive but was a wonderful side trip. Whaling season has ended, but the vast processing plant was interesting to see.
From the fjord, we headed inland, across high mountain plateaus toward Geysir, the location of the geyser that others took their name from. As expected, the place was packed with tourists ad a full sized restaurant and visitor centre had been built. It really was a fascinating site to visit, despite the crowds. Basically, anywhere within a 2 hour drive from Reykjavik is filled with tourists on day trips.
The original Geysir is now just a smouldering blue pool and an adjacent geyser, Strokkur, which erupts about every 4 minutes. The rest of the area is filled with bubbling hot springs and steam vents. It does reek of sulphur, which was not a great thing for my unsettled stomach. Once I get photos of Strokkur processed, I’ll revisit this location with its own post.
Nikon D800
Tamron SP 70-200mm f/2.8 Di VC USD @ 90 mm
1/80sec, f/4.5 ISO 200
For more images like this, please visit my website (images are available for purchase)
http://www.edlehming.com
“Hraunfossar – Wide View” – Western Iceland
“In Iceland, water is everywhere. It surrounds the land itself. Water courses from high mountaintops, bursts from the ground, itself, and flows in endless ribbons over the ancient stone, cleansing the blackened and tortured landscape. The water rarely stands still, as if it’s the lifeblood of the land itself.”
– Ed Lehming
Today, as we headed toward the town of Borgarnes, on Iceland’s western coast, we pulled out a map and plotted a route that took us from the coast, inland to the high mountains, lava fields, and glaciers of south-eastern Iceland.
Along this route we picked a few points of interest, including Hraunfossar, a low and wide waterfall along the Hvítá river. The fall is unusual in that they burst forth from underground along the Hallmundarhraun, which is a massive lava plain that dominates this region. It’s strange to see this amount of water coming from the side of a hill, just below the vegetation. In fact, you hardly notice it at first.
I spent quite some time here, enjoying the scene before me and making many long exposure images of different parts of the waterfall.
Just above Hraunfossar is Barnafoss, a violent cascade created by the massive volumes of water from the glacial Hvítá river. Barnafoss, which translates into “the children’s waterfall” is named after a local tale that on a Christmas Eve many years ago two children in the Hraunsás household who were supposed to stay home while the parents went to church for Christmas Mass. When the parents returned from mass, they discovered that the children had disappeared (possibly because the children got bored and decided to go out). They then followed the children’s tracks to this waterfall at the stone natural bridge where the tracks disappeared. The mother concluded that the children must have fallen into the river and drowned. Thus, the name.
From here we traveled yet further inland, having mapped a course back to Borgarnes along a highway that looked like many of the unpaved roads we have travelled on this trip, only out find it had been re-designated as an “F” road, one of Iceland’s inland mountain roads, thus our rental car was forbidden to travel it.
Rather than simply turn back, we re-navigated to another gravel road that followed a less mountainous path along the opposite shore of the Hvítá river. In doing this loop, we did cross the Hvítá on a high plain and looked upstream to the glaciers that birthed it, making the detour interesting.
And so, we headed towards tonight’s destination: Borgarnes, a coastal town along the western cost to plan out our final few adventures in this astoundingly beautiful country.
Nikon D800
Nikkor 70-300mm f/4.5-5.6 G I AF-S VR Zoom @ 70mm
1/.0 sec, f/32.0, ISO 200
For more images like this, please visit my website (images are available for purchase)
http://www.edlehming.com
“October Afternoon at Kirkjufellfoss” – Iceland
“People are very busy; they are so busy that when they walk in the crowds they see no one, no one but themselves; they hear no voice, no voice but their own voice!”
―
Today was a day of long travels, over broken dirt roads, navigating a quicker route to our destination, the only real ‘destination’ we have had on this trip, apart from lodgings.
So far, we have ‘winged it’, simply driven between one overnight stop to the next, taking in the wonders along the way, enjoying the surprising gifts of beauty this country has to offer, and always expecting the unexpected.
Yes, we have a maps and guidebooks to help us find landmarks along the way, but till today, we did not set out with the intention of visiting a particular site. This has removed any pressure or expectation and has put us in places we had not expected to end up. It’s put us in places we see photos of, but really had no idea where they were, all the while avoiding the summer crowds during this off-season. Mind you, white outs and near impassible roads have helped with that too. Despite unforeseen weather and driving challenges, it has been and continues to be a completely amazing and soul-restoring trip.
Back today. We set out from our lodgings in Svinvaten, in North-East Iceland towards the town of Grundarfjörður, the home of Kirkjufellfoss and the crazy pyramid looking mountain that seems to be on everybody’s Instagram feed. To get there in reasonable time meant taking a few ‘shortcuts’.
Iceland’s road system includes a series of remote wilderness roads, knows as “F” roads, that take the traveller, with an appropriate vehicle into Iceland’s more remote locations. These roads are now closed for the season and our rental contract forbade using these roads. However, we found a few routes that parallel the F roads and cut directly cross-country to cut significant distances that result in sticking to the coast-hugging main highways. The roads we travelled were gravel, pot-holed tracks through open county, bounded by mountains and across vast plains of nothingness. It was beautiful, but slightly un-nerving.
In the end we reached our destination, only to find it filled with crowds (yes, even this time of year) of people with the accursed selfie sticks, posing in precarious locations around the falls.
My main reason for attending this location was to see for myself what the falls looked like and how some of these beautiful images I see are made. Having been there myself now, any shots without people are the result of patience or post-processing. People were everywhere, each in their own world, oblivious to others. Some balancing and posing for extended periods, and making it next to impossible to get a good shot.
I really don’t like crowds, primarily because of this mentality, which seems so pervasive with the inception of Instagram; everybody trying to outdo the other for that ‘wow’ shot.
As for me, I set up in a few locations, waited between ‘waves’ of visitors and snapped a few shots, hoping for something worthwhile. I was pleased with the image above. I could not imaging going back to this place in the summer, despite its beauty and surreal appearance.
Nikon D300
TAMRON SP AF 17-50mm F2.8 XR Di II LD Aspherical IF A16NII @ 32 mm
1/4 sec, F/29, ISO 200
For more images like this, please visit my website (images are available for purchase)
http://www.edlehming.com
“Heiðarfall” – North Iceland
“Though we travel the world over to find the beautiful, we must carry it with us, or we find it not.”
―
On a day that started out dull, and blanketed in low cloud and with little promise of sights to photograph, we set out on the still icy road which would lead us to a stop at Goðafoss, a much photographed waterfall just off the main highway, a lovely lunch in the city of Akureyri, and finally, our overnight stay at a guesthouse in Svinvatn, a small interior lake.
As we approached Goðafoss, the sky began to brighten, but a layer of cloud still blocked the sun, but made for good conditions to photograph the waterfall, post to follow at a later date.
With the highlight of our day completed, we headed out of Akureyri, the second largest city in Iceland, following a long valley through the mountain range that rises on the western edge of the Eyjafjörður fjord.
With the sky just slightly overcast, the drive through the valley was lovely, and yielded a few ‘decent’ photos. I the distance, we could see a mountain peak, a bit hazy in the distance, lit up by the sun. We kept watching, as the peak began to come into sharper view, snow whipping from its snow covered summit.
We pulled over along the road to make a few photos of this interesting vista before us. Then, suddenly, magic happened. As I stood ready to make a photo, the clouds overhead changed the light, ever so slightly and bathed the valley before me in a wonderful golden hue and the world before me was like a scene from a dream, then it was gone again. But, I was able to capture that one brief moment as a photo I will treasure for a long time. The long valley, with the snowy mountain. A miracle of light and timing.
So, a ho hum day, became a day of sheer joy. That seems to be the nature of Iceland, you always have to be prepared for something new and wonderful, despite icy roads and gray skies.
What an incredible change from yesterday’s icy drive.
Nikon D800
Tamron SP 70-200mm f/2.8 Di VC USD @ 145 mm
1/320 sec, f/9.0 ISO 200
For more images like this, please visit my website (images are available for purchase)
http://www.edlehming.com
“Möðrudalsfjallgarðar” – East Iceland
“When hell freezes over the Earth shall be covered in snow.”
―
The theme of this day is snow, never-ending snow, floating snow, drifting snow, skin biting snow. You see, today we headed into the north of Iceland. As we awoke in the town of Egilsstaðir, light snow had already fallen overnight and dusted the world in white. The forecast showed the snow would be ending by mid-morning.
That was my first mistake, there is no such thing as a long-term forecast in Iceland, and a large arctic storm west of Norway was pushing cold air and moisture towards Iceland. Roads that started snow-dusted soon turned to ice and, as we ventured ever higher into the mountains which divide East and North Iceland, we ran into a continuous series of storms which created white-out conditions.
I should note that our rental vehicle was a 4×4 with studded tires. I wondered, “Why the studs?”, when we picked it up that rainy morning a few days ago. Now I know. There are no salters here and we only saw two snow ploughs on our 170 km drive, despite the horrible conditions.
This was to be our shortest drive on the ring road trek, but ended up taking much longer due to the ‘white knuckle” road conditions.
Despite this, we still had a great time and made many beautiful photos along the way, including Dettifoss and Snelfoss, two massive waterfalls that flow through an enormous fissure running through a wasteland of volcanic rock. That 24 km drive down the Dettifoss road was more of the same: icy roads and constant snow drifts. If roads at home were like this, I would not venture out.
As we neared the end of the day, having survived the roads, thus far, we headed for the Krafla Geothermal Plant, at the base of Krafla, a 818m high volcanic dome, with plans to drive to the viewing area at the top and take in the beautiful emerald-green pool that fills the cone. When we arrived, we found the access road closed, due to poor conditions. We sat in the car till yet another squall passed over and decided to hike the 2.5 km road to the top. Half way there we had reached the lead edge of the peak and were greeted with +100 km/h winds and stinging snow. In the distance, another squall loomed close by. Since there was no shelter at this height, we decided it was safer to head back down, rather than proceed.
I can’t say I have ever experienced nature in such a raw form.
Our final destination for the day was the Grjótagjá Cave, a series of caves containing hot springs, too hot for human use, filling the caves with warm steam. It is also quite amazing to realize the caves were caused by the collapse of the land within the valley, creating visible cracks that define the edge of the volcanic formation below.
I ended my day with a fantastic lamb and mushroom pizza and a lovely Icelandic Porter at a local restaurant. I seem to be ending each day with food?
iPhone 7 back camera @ 4.0mm
1/4167 sec; f/1.8; ISO 20
For more images like this, please visit my website (images are available for purchase)
http://www.edlehming.com
“Berufjörður” – Djúpavogshreppur, East Iceland
“Welcome to driving Iceland, where every turn in the road opens up a brand new and astounding vista. Just when you think you have found the most beautiful sight in the world, another competes with it in an endless play of wonders.”
– Ed Lehming
Today’s theme is mountains, fjords, and glacial streams. First, the mountains are really a continuation of yesterdays mountains, though in line with my quote, the mountains today, as we departed Höfn, had a slightly different character than the glacial mountains we travelled through yesterday. Today’s mountains were ancient and terraced, made deep in under the oceans and heaved up by tectonic forces. They remind me of the Rocky Mountains of North America, with their angular peaks and banded appearance.
Between these rows of mountains, deep fjords cut into the coast of East Iceland, stretching for many kilometers inland and forcing roads to cling tenaciously to the edges of the mountains.
The fjords certainly added to our travel, but what a sight to see; enormous mountains to one side and fingers of the Atlantic Ocean reaching far into the valleys between. It was astounding to look back across and see the fine thread that represented the road we had just traveled, along the edge of the water.
Within the valleys of the snow-covered mountains, nearly every crack and crevasse flowed with clear, ice-cold, melt water. I can imagine this place in late spring. The hills must be completely awash with water.
I could not resist filling my water bottle at the base of a 1,085 meter high mountain. It was an amazing experience to drink this ice-cold elixir while looking high up to the peak that created it, the cool mountain breezes blowing on my face and refreshing my very soul. This, is glacier water, not the stuff marketed with pictures of mountains! This is the real deal.
We neared our day with a 6 km. drive though a tunnel carved below Kollufell Mountain, shortening our drive by some 35 km. Before settling in our room in Egilsstaðir, we decided to take drive around the long lake that if formed within the Lagarfljót River, Lagarfljót Lake.
At the south end of the lake is a trailhead that leads to Hengifoss, a VERY steep, 2.5 km hike up the side of one of the river valley’s bounding mountains. We made it to just past the 1 km mark, beaten by high winds, cold, and exhaustion, being the end of the day. At this point in the ascent, we were greeted by Litlanesfoss, a smaller falls below Hengifoss. I took the time to make a few photos and began our decent.
At the end of the day, a nice bowl of Icelandic lamb stew in Egilsstaðir made up for the cold and the memory of the experience with stay with me for a long time.
iPhone 7 back camera @ 4.0mm
1/2179 sec; f/1.8; ISO 20
For more images like this, please visit my website (images are available for purchase)
http://www.edlehming.com
“Sveitarfélagið Hornafjörður – Glacial Pool” – East Iceland
“ If one looks at the glacier for long enough, words cease to have any meaning on God’s earth.”
―
Today was a day of volcanoes, mountains, and ice (and rough roads), as I continue my journey around Iceland’s Ring Road.
We entered the south-east of Iceland, having departed from Vik this morning, travelling along Highway 1. Shortly after Vik, the landscape changed dramatically into a jagged landscape of tortured rock and cinder. Just north of us, loomed the massive ice fields which cover the now dormant Katla volcano. There is a real problem when a volcano erupts under a glacier; it has nowhere to go but out, through the base of the glacier, creating catastrophic flooding and ash falls. The most recent eruption of Katla, was in 1918, but the area to the south-east of the volcano looks like it erupted a few days ago, with twisted shards of black stone and ash as far as the eye can see.
As we continued east, the landscape changed again, into a surreal world of mounds of rounded stone covered in thick green moss. This continued for quite some time until we entered yet another vast field of black sand and gravel, the runoff of the Vatnajökull glacier fields. The black sand is crisscrossed by an endless network of glacial rivers.
Beyond this black plain rise the sheer cliffs, mountains, and glaciers which dominated my day. The best of all is pictured above. At the base of one of the many Svínafellsjökull glacial ‘tongues’ below Hvannadalshnúkur, the highest glaciated mountain in Iceland. We hiked along the edge of the glacier but were most fascinated by the small glacial pool at the base, filled with icebergs of many sizes, some a spectacular blue. Some smaller pieces lay by the shore, crystal clear and beckoning me to have a taste, which I did. Oh, so cool and fresh! I’ve now eaten a piece of glacier.
We spend quite a bit of time on the shores of this pond, away from the crowds who did not seem to be able to find the trail that led us here, making photos and enjoying the vast glacier which stood before us.
iPhone 7 back camera @ 4.0mm
1/556 sec; f/1.8; ISO 20
For more images like this, please visit my website (images are available for purchase)
http://www.edlehming.com
It is said, “There is no bad weather in Iceland, only bad clothing”
– unknown
“Rangárþing Eystra” – South Iceland
The saying above rang true on day one of my trip to Iceland with my son. I agonized about taking the right cloths for this land of ever-changing conditions, trying not to pack too much, but being aware that too little could also pose a problem.
We landed at 6:05am to surprisingly mild temperatures and no rain, though the forecast had called for it. By 7:30 am we had picked up our rental 4×4 an were on the road towards Vik, our first stop on our ten day Ring Road excursion.
By 9:30 the sky was just brightening as we drove through a tortured and raw landscape of jagged volcanic debris, a slight tang of sulphur in the air, noting the columns of steam rising from the earth’s depths, reminders that volcanism is still a very real part of what makes Iceland what it is, a land of fire and ice.
For me, “raw” best describes what I am seeing. It’s layers upon layers of glaciers, lava fields, geysers, and pale yellow mosses that tenaciously cling to the exposed rock.
As we continued our journey towards Vik, the landscape calmed a bit, changing from lava fields to high, snow-covered mountains, water falls, and twisting, sinuous rivers, winding their way through black sands to the sea. Between these mountains, farms fill valleys, defying nature yet dwarfed by the enormity of the landscape the are part of. One such valley is pictured above, as icy waters escape their mountain homes, on black paths to mingle with sea water in the north Atlantic Ocean.
The other factor at play is, of course, the weather. This image was made around 12:30 and a system pushed straight up the mid-Atlantic by the Gulf Stream continues to darken the skies, eventually ending with sheets of rain and temperatures just above freezing. By the time we got to Vik around 3:00pm it was cold and miserable and we called it quits for the day. More tomorrow.
iPhone 7 back camera @ 4.0mm
1/556 sec; f/1.8; ISO 20
For more images like this, please visit my website (images are available for purchase)
http://www.edlehming.com
I’m all set up for my second studio tour. Looking forward to meeting new people and talking about my art. And hopefully, sell a few pieces too.
“The tree which moves some to tears of joy is in the eyes of others only a green thing that stands in the way. Some see nature all ridicule and deformity… and some scarce see nature at all. But to the eyes of the man of imagination, nature is imagination itself.”
―
As I walk the local trails, I’m often quite aware that, at some point, the trailblazers and foresters had to make choices about what trees remained and what trees needed to be felled. As the trails meander to and fro, it’s clear that conscious decisions were made to avoid having to cut certain trees.
I suppose, being a cluster of three, tightly grouped, makes you less vulnerable to the chainsaw, however well intentioned. There are many such clusters along the trails and the path always gently flexes around them. For me, each of the trees I pass tell a bit of the story about the formation of this trail system, so many years ago. As the story emerges, I am ever grateful to those who had the foresight to set these lands apart for our future enjoyment, one tree at a time.
Nikon D800
Tamron SP AF 90mm f/2.8 Di Macro 1:1 (272ENII)@90mmm
1/4 sec, f/22.0 ISO 400
“You expected to be sad in the fall. Part of you died each year when the leaves fell from the trees and their branches were bare against the wind and the cold, wintery light. But you knew there would always be the spring, as you knew the river would flow again after it was frozen”
– Ernest Hemingway
The theme of my posts, of late, has been leftover or left behind photos. All this because I’m preparing for a local Studio Tour and using my blog posts in my photo catalogue, because people like to hear some of the story and process behind the photos. That’s the reason I started blogging in the first place.
So, here I am reviewing one of my more popular photos from 2014, one I have as yet, not written about.
This “lone tree” stands in a farm field near Glasgow, Ontario, A few short moments drive from my house. I have made innumerable photos of this tree, in all seasons, yet this particular image remains my most popular. There is a warm glow from the clouds as the sun begins to set and the empty furrows lead the eye to this single tree. It’s quite a deliberate shot and all the elements combine to make it appealing to a wider audience.
Interestingly, though it was made in late November of 2012, it does not feel sad or cold. It simply feels at peace, as another season draws to a close and we look forward to the comfort of a warm heart as winter slowly approaches.
Nikon D300
Nikkor 70-300mm f/4.5-5.6 G I AF-S VR Zoom @ 80mm
1/160 sec, f/6.3, ISO 200
Ed Lehming Photography 
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