GALLERY · Feb 15, 2025 · ICELAND

Eight days in Iceland

Fourteen frames from eight days on the southern stretch of Iceland’s Route One — a trip booked off an Instagram ad and travelled with a van full of strangers who became friends. The full account is in the essay. The photographs are the rest of the story.

Dark asphalt of Route One curving through pale tussock plains toward a flat-topped ridge under a hazy Icelandic sky, a single car in the distance — Route One · the road that ran through the whole trip

The reason I came. Most of what follows happened from inside or just outside this windshield.

Snow-streaked dark mountains rising over a marshy plain with patches of ice and grass, under heavy grey clouds — Snow-streaked mountains · the view that does not change as you drive

The mountains in Iceland do not move the way mountains in other places do. They sit on the horizon and refuse to change scale. You drive for half an hour and they are still the same distance away.

Pale blue glacier tongue spilling between dark volcanic rock walls down to a foreground of black gravel — Glacier tongue · where the ice meets the rock

Where the ice meets the rock. The first time we stopped in front of one of these I forgot to lift the camera for about a minute.

Person in a soaked black jacket standing arms wide directly under a thundering Icelandic waterfall, spray filling the frame — Under the waterfall · soaked, smiling, completely worth it

These appear without warning around bends in the road. The roar arrives before the waterfall does — and if you stand close enough, you stop hearing anything else.

Tall waterfall plunging down a mossy cliff with a vivid rainbow forming in the spray on the left side of the frame — Waterfall and rainbow · spray, low sun, no filter needed

Waterfall plus low winter sun equals rainbow, almost as a rule. You stand in the spray and pretend you planned it.

Lifted black Ford super-jeep with massive off-road tyres parked on black volcanic gravel, snow-capped mountains in the distance — Our super-jeep · the only way into the glacial valley

You do not drive a normal car into the glacial valley. The tyres are bigger than my torso for a reason.

Fifteen people in orange and black snow gear lined up arm-in-arm across a glacier, helmets on, snow-capped ridge behind them — The expedition crew · suited up, on the ice, before we set off

Strangers from the van, in matching gear, on a glacier. By this point in the trip nobody minded standing in a line for the camera.

Row of Ski-Doo snowmobiles parked single-file on a glacier, sun breaking through clouds on the horizon — Snowmobiles staged on the glacier · sun breaking on the horizon

The scale never reads in photographs. Those snowmobiles are full-sized. The white keeps going for kilometres in every direction.

Hand holding up a phone showing a Game of Thrones White Walkers still inside the actual mossy snow-dusted canyon where the scene was shot — Game of Thrones · the scene, held up against the location it was shot in

Same canyon, four years apart. The landscape needs no special effects — the production just had to point a camera.

Brilliant green aurora swirling in a tight spiral over a silhouetted treeline, scattered stars visible in the dark sky over Hella — Aurora over Hella · night one · spiral over the treeline

The first night in Hella. No light pollution for miles, an ink-black sky, and lights moving across it in a way that did not need a camera trick to be obvious. The keeper of the trip.

Wide green aurora arc over silhouetted farm buildings near Hella, with a small bonfire glowing on the left and a cabin window lit in the distance — Aurora over Hella · night two · quieter, but still present

Night two in Hella was dimmer than night one. After the first night that was almost a relief — you stop trying to outdo the show and just sit with it.

Person in a grey insulated suit standing arms wide on the black volcanic sand of Reynisfjara, foamy Atlantic surf to the right, cliffs to the left — Reynisfjara · black sand, grey ocean, biting wind

Reynisfjara at Vik. Ink-black sand, the Atlantic in iron grey, and a wind that literally bit. You leave the beach with sand in your teeth and you are happy about it.

Plate of fresh Icelandic langoustines with brown bread, dressed salad, lemon, melted butter, and a glass of dark stout — Langoustines · the meal that made me ignore every guidebook

Every guide said: skip the restaurants, the food is expensive, bring snacks. Every guide was wrong. The langoustines on this plate are reason enough to come back.

Plate of charred Arctic char with crisp grill marks, served with roasted carrots, fresh tomato salsa, pecans, and yogurt — Charred fish · simple, perfect, fresh out of the same ocean

Pulled from the same ocean we had been staring at all day. Charred, salted, served without theatre. One of the meals of the trip.

The long-form is Chasing lights at the edge of the world — on the Instagram booking, Route One, the glacial valley, and three nights under the aurora.