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Where to do Photography in Iceland
Our journey led us to the southern expanse of Iceland, where we immersed ourselves in photographing its ethereal beauty for an entire week, often for up to sixteen hours each day. The omnipresent midnight sun was our constant companion, illuminating our path and enabling us to pursue our craft into the early morning hours. The notion of time became fluid as the absence of nightfall dissolved the boundaries of day and night untethered by the conventional constraints of time zones.
The southern coast of Iceland presents a mesmerizing tapestry of dramatic waterfalls, black sand beaches, and glaciers that stand like ancient guardians. Geothermal fields glisten with ethereal colors, creating a photographer’s paradise. Here, lighthouses stand watch over the landscape, puffins add a heavenly touch, and some of our most cherished locations come to life.
UNDER CONSTRUCTION – NEW PAGE – Each image will lead to the full article.
Vestmannaeyjar Photography
Dryholaey
Skógafoss
Kvernufoss Waterfall
SOUTHERN ICELAND PHOTOGRAPHY
The southern coast of Iceland presents a mesmerizing tapestry of dramatic waterfalls, black sand beaches, and glaciers that stand like ancient guardians. Geothermal fields glisten with ethereal colors, creating a photographer’s paradise. Here, lighthouses stand watch over the landscape, puffins add a heavenly touch, and some of our most cherished locations come to life.
The Golden Circle
The Golden Loop covers 300 kilometers or 190 miles and guides you through some of the most celebrated natural wonders in Southwest Iceland. As photographers, we know the normal tourist would do this in two days, but documenting the beauty took us a week.
Here is a list of the highlights of the Golden Circle:
- Thingvellir National Park.
- Haukadalur Geothermal Field
- Gullfoss Waterfall
- Secret Lagoon Hot Spring
- Kerið Crater
- Reykjadalur Hot Spring
- Faxi waterfall
- Geysir Hot Springs
Þingvellir National Park
One stop on this legendary route was Þingvellir National Park, a site of geological wonder and historical significance. Here, the rift valley exposes the boundary between the North American and Eurasian tectonic plates, creating a landscape that seems to pulsate with Earth’s ancient energy. The rugged fissures and moss-covered rocks offered a stark contrast against the lush greenery and shimmering waters that weave through the valley. The play of light and shadow across the jagged edges of the fissures provided a dynamic tableau, inviting us to explore every crevice and contour.
As we moved deeper into the park, we felt overwhelmed with stress. If you remember, Pamela is psychic. We had no idea where the anxiety about the location was coming from.
Later that night, when we discussed our journey with the owner of our bed and breakfast, he instantly understood when we asked him what we could be sensing. This is the location of a former horror story!! We listened very intently as he explained.
He spoke softly, eyes darkening with a hint of foreboding. “Many years ago, Þingvellir was the site of a tragic event—an ancient conflict that left whispers lingering in the air, even now. Some say the land holds onto those memories; perhaps your psychic senses picked up on them.” Pamela nodded subtly.
He described the Drowning Pool as the place where women accused of infanticide or adultery were executed. Tied up and immersed in the frigid waters, their sorrowful destinies contribute a ghostly element to the park’s allure.
As we stood silently, the weight of history seemed to settle over us like a thick fog. The moss-clad rocks and the lake’s placid waters reflected an unnatural stillness, as if even nature hesitated to disturb the memories embedded here. Pamela responded, “That was the first time in the history of my photography that an overwhelming feeling of dread like this made me not finish photographing the area.”
During the heart of the 16th century, changes cast its transformative shadow over Iceland, bringing with it stringent edicts on morality. In truth, however, it was a period where affluent patriarchs imposed their stringent will upon the impoverished youth, with a particular severity directed towards women.
The introduction of executive authority in Iceland brought with it the practice of public executions and corporal punishments. There were four main methods of execution: women accused of “immoral behavior” were typically drowned, thieves faced hanging, murderers and male adulterers were beheaded with a dull ax by an often inebriated and unwilling amateur, and those found guilty of practicing magic were burned. Corporal punishments commonly included whipping, branding, amputation of limbs or fingers, or infliction of bruises. In later centuries, Thingvellir primarily served as a site for trials and severe penalties until it was abolished in 1800.
From the 1600s onward, Thingvellir witnessed between 70 and 80 executions. Among these, historical records note 15 hangings, 30 beheadings, and 18 women who met their fate by drowning in what is now known as the “Drowning Pool,” located where the river’s bridge stands today. This site remains the sole execution location commemorated with a memorial plaque.
PAMELA GOODYER’S NARRATIVE POEM
The islands rest in the Southern Icelandic Volcanic Zone, where the Earth breathes fire and cries tales of old. Forged by the molten heart of the planet, they have risen, sculpted by eruptions for thousands of years, standing as timeworn sentinels in a sea of time. Spanning sixteen square kilometers, this realm of land and sea interwoven, eighteen islands soar like ancient guardians. Rock stacks and skerries are silent witnesses to the history of the tides.
Upon my arrival on the island, standing on the boat, I was enveloped in profound awe. I sensed old agony and despair, each reflecting the stories of the past into the salt-tinged air. As I stepped onto the ground, sensing the sagas of former warriors, I raised my camera to document the scene, noting the echoes of time.
Energy danced on the wind, caressing my skin like a delicate breeze that brushed away the weight of the world. My overwhelming admiration was a testament to the profound beauty unfolding before my eyes, enchanting me with its exquisite allure. My spirit soared, resonating with the sublime symphony of the divine.
I felt the pulse of the Earth—warm and alive. It was as if each rock held a piece of history waiting to be uncovered. I felt deeply connected to this place as if I were part of its story. My lens became an extension of my eyes, eager to drink in the colors and textures dancing before me. My heart soared as I remembered my existence and purpose on this planet: discovering and documenting the most incredible places on Earth. I’ve found my top ten—a treasure trove of splendor that sings to my soul. The magic within me crafts a mosaic from countless cosmos, and I grasp that momentous place.
I stand where this was once in the crosshairs of warriors. Many have fought fiercely to possess a realm of such stunning allure; I am drawn to Heimaey Stave Church, known as Stafkirkjan. It is a replica bestowed by Norway, a treasure from the past. As I walk into the sanctuary, I see three women standing, their eyes wide with reverence.
Overwhelmed by forces beyond my grasp, I retreat into the shadows, Tears brimming, swept up by a tide of emotion—a surge as relentless as the waves that trailed behind the boat on our passage here. I ponder the source of this flood of feelings—perhaps it is the sacred space itself.
Transcendent majesty and the touch of celestial energy often envelop me in their embrace. As an empath, I absorb every intricate thread of anguish, both luminous and shadowed. The radiance of this incredible location eclipses the darkness, yet the suffering persistently seeps through. What has unfolded here, I ponder to myself.
I gather the fragments of my being, drawing in deep and deliberate breaths. Each one links me to an ineffable beyond, yet I wonder if I am not already woven into this transcendent state.
I wander through the terrain, led by hallowed murmurs. With each step, divine guidance leads me, and I begin to document the magnificence in each photograph. I am not just recording an image; I am translating the ethereal energy of the place into something tangible.
This island, once a battleground for warriors, now hints at secrets of love, loss, and beauty that I long to share with the world. Thus, the images and this article emerge. May you, too, find the symphony of energies I once discovered through the dance of my pictures and the purr of my words.