The Nauset Lighthouse in Early Morning Light

It’s 6:00 AM this mid-October morning, and Bob, my fellow outdoor photographer, picks me up at home. Today, we are venturing out in the dark to capture the best light at the Nauset Lighthouse. This trip to Wellfleet, Cape Cod, will take about an hour, but photographing this iconic structure at sunrise will be well worth it.

We park the car just as the sun peeks from the horizon. The Lighthouse is the first thing that comes into view in all its glory. In addition to the allure of its presence at the top of a moderately steep hill, this red and white monolith looks out over the ocean, a serene site to behold.

Built in 1838, the Nauset Lighthouse has stood sentinel over the Cape Cod coastline for nearly two centuries. Originally constructed to guide mariners safely past the treacherous waters, the lighthouse has grown to embody the region’s spirit. However, the story of Nauset Lighthouse is not simply one of standing tall against stormy seas; it’s also about resilience and preservation.

The coastline has been steadily eroding, and the lighthouse faced the threat of being washed away. In a monumental relocation effort, Nauset Lighthouse was moved 1500 feet inland in 1996. This engineering feat preserved the historic structure and ensured it would continue to serve as a navigational maritime traffic beacon.

With its iconic red and white color scheme, adopted in 1955, Nauset Lighthouse has become an emblematic symbol of the Cape Cod landscape. Today, the lighthouse, operating with its original third-order Fresnel lens, glows brightly for mariners, visible from approximately 13 nautical miles. Furthermore, its listing on the National Register of Historic Places underscores its significance as a lighthouse and a piece of American maritime heritage.

While standing before the Nauset Lighthouse, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of connection to the tales of those who lived and and worked here. Local lore speaks of the “ghost” of a former lighthouse keeper who is said to roam the grounds, perhaps keeping watch over the seas he once guarded. Whether accurate or simply the result of an overactive imagination, these stories deepen the lighthouse’s charisma and charm.

Nauset Lighthouse has certainly weathered its fair share of storms, literally and figuratively. During fierce winter storms, waves crash dramatically against the cliffs, often sending sprays of water up toward the lighthouse. Photographers over the years have captured these explosive moments, as the juxtaposition of nature’s fury with the steadfast lighthouse creates breathtaking imagery.

The reach of Nauset Lighthouse extends far beyond its physical location. It has appeared in various films, artwork and photography. The lighthouse has been part of Cape Cod’s cinematic landscape in films such as The Finest Hours, which depicts the bravery of the Coast Guard during treacherous rescues.

Nauset’s picturesque setting has long enamored artists and photographers. As depicted in the this post, many famous paintings and photographs showcase the lighthouse, especially during the golden hours of sunrise and sunset. Its striking silhouette against vibrant skies serves as an enduring image of the Cape.

One intriguing aspect of lighthouse lore is the Great Lighthouse Debate, which stems from Edward Hopper’s famous painting Nighthawks. Some enthusiasts speculate whether the emotional ambiance of Hopper’s diners was inspired by the isolation often associated with lighthouse life. This debate adds another layer to the connections between lighthouses and American art and culture.

As I wander around the base of Nauset Lighthouse, I reflect on the lives of lighthouse keepers and their families. These guardians of the sea lived in relative isolation, dedicated to the upkeep of the light and often dealing with the challenges of culinary and domestic life amidst the unpredictable weather. Many local accounts describe the close-knit communities formed around these lighthouses, creating a unique culture centered on maritime traditions.

At this point, the good light for photography is gone, and it is time to travel a short distance to the Mass Audubon Wellfleet Bay Wildlife Sanctuary for bird photography. The hope is that many of the migratory birds have not yet left for the season. It’s windy today, which could also hinder our chances for getting good bird photographs. Nevertheless, as long as we’re here, it’s certainly worth a try. Not to worry; if no luck, I know I’ll be back here in the future.

Early Morning at the Scituate Lighthouse and Harbor

It’s 6:15 AM on this cool and crisp October morning in Plymouth. MA. I pick up Bob, my friend and avid outdoor photographer for a trip up Boston’s south shore to the Scituate Lighthouse and Harbor. It’s after Labor Day, and the tourists are nowhere to be seen. We’re excited!

I park the car, and the first order of business is to stroll around the lighthouse looking for good light and perspectives for optimal compositions. We grab our equipment and split up while we capture our images.

Nestled along the rugged Massachusetts coastline, this stunning landmark tells the story of maritime navigation and serves as a cherished symbol of the community. In this post, we’ll explore the the Scituate Lighthouse’s history, architectural beauty, and serene atmosphere at dawn.

Built in 1810, this structure is a testament to America’s maritime heritage. Commissioned by the federal government, its primary purpose was to enhance navigation along the Massachusetts coastline and guide vessels safely into Scituate Harbor. The lighthouse, constructed from locally sourced granite, was strategically placed atop a rocky outcrop to maximize visibility for approaching ships.

As the harbor became increasingly vital for trade and commerce, this lighthouse reduced maritime accidents and ensured safe passage. Over the years, maritime trade flourished, thanks partly to the steadfast light from the iconic tower.

Over its two centuries of service, Scituate Lighthouse has been a silent witness to significant historical events. During the War of 1812, it served as a lookout point against potential threats, ensuring the safety of the coast. In 1933, the lighthouse was automated, marking a shift towards modern navigation and systems that reflected technological advancements. Despite these changes, the lighthouse has preserved its charm and historical significance, remaining a beloved landmark for residents and visitors alike.

The architectural design of Scituate Lighthouse is a classic representation of early 19th-century lighthouse construction. Standing tall at 70 feet, its cylindrical shape tapers slightly as it ascends, providing both structural integrity and an aesthetically pleasing silhouette. Made of durable granite, the lighthouse is a robust landmark resilient to relentless coastal elements.

Above the tower, the lantern room houses the beacon, traditionally illuminated by a Fresnel lens, which allowed for efficient and far-reaching illumination. The light has been modernized today, but it continues to serve as a vital navigational aid. The rotating light can be seen from miles away, guiding sailors safely to shore as they navigate the challenging waters of the Atlantic.

Across from the lighthouse is Scituate Harbor where boats are just starting to take off in this early morning hour. The shoreline is a striking landmark that symbolizes resilience, history and community pride. The sandy beaches and historic homes create a picturesque coastal

environment that draws tourists, artists and photographers. At sunrise, the lighthouse emerges from the morning haze, casting a long shadow across the rocks and illuminating the serene waters below.

The sun is getting higher in the sky now signalling the end of the good light for creating stunning images filled with depth and warmth. Bob and I wrap it up, and we head back to Plymouth. I love lighthouses, and I have accumulated an impressive list of sites worthy of a visit. I keep my fingers crossed for good weather as winter approaches.

A Glencoe Emergency in the Scottish Highlands

We’ve taken the ferry from the Isle of Lewis and Harris to the mainland of the Scottish Highlands. It is time to explore Glencoe, a village situated in the steep-sided Glencoe Valley. This is the third leg of our tour, complete with numerous sites to explore and photograph.

After a trip to the visitor center, we are now more acquainted with this glen of volcanic origins. Situated between the county of Argyll and the province of Lochbar, this is an expansive area that is ideal for mountaineers, hill walkers, and climbers.

As we meander through The Glen, we come across a black cottage on a steep hillside. The sky appears threatening, but it is not yet raining for a change. This hut seems isolated from the rest of the world, nestled amongst numerous small mountains, typical for the Scottish Highlands.

Named after the River Coe, The Glen has been described as “soaring and dramatic,” by Scottish Natural Heritage, and is noted for its transition between “high mountain pass and lightly wooded strath.”

Continuing with our journey down route A82, we come to an impressive area known as the Three Sisters. A beautiful green valley abuts a series of imposing mountains, and I feel like this is a magical land out of a medieval storybook. The Three Sisters are known as Bidean nam Bian Mountain in Gaelic and have a yellow-brown appearance in October.

It’s getting later in the day, so we keep moving right along to an area known as The White House. It is quite overcast, but there is no precipitation. This scene is idyllic with small waterfalls in the foreground, the white house in the mid-ground, and mountains in the background. I get several different compositions and settle on one as shown here.

Our group leader, Don, says it’s time to pack it in. We head back to the bus, with one site left on the day’s itinerary. Some time passes, and we are not moving. There is no sign of Don, and the remaining daylight is starting to fade.

Eventually, Don returns to the bus to let us know that an incident has occurred. It turns out that a man who had parked his car next to the bus had hiked up the mountain with his eleven-year-old son and eight-year-old daughter.

The daughter suffers from asthma and began having an acute asthmatic attack. The father sent the son down the mountain to look for the daughter’s inhaler in the car. That was when Don found him rifling through the vehicle, with the inhalers nowhere in sight. The little boy was distraught!

Don comes on the bus to let us know that we will not be making it to the last site of the day. He turns his attention to me, a cardiologist, to get some medical advice on how to handle this situation. This is complicated. We can’t see the father and daughter up the mountain. Even if they were accessible, a full blown asthmatic attack would require inhalational bronchodilators and/or intravenous steroids.. My advice is to call 911 which is 999 in Scotland.

An ambulance is called, and the rig shows up in forty-five minutes. During this time, Barbara, one of the clients on this tour and a retired emergency room nurse, brings the boy on the bus. She keeps him occupied by asking questions about where he goes to school, has this happened to his sister before, does his family do a lot of hiking, etc.

Finally, we see the father carrying the daughter on his shoulders down the incline. He eventually makes it to the bus, and the ambulance driver takes over. I can see that the girl is wheezing, but probably will not need steroids, and does not need to be intubated.

We head back to the hotel and straight to the bar. This has been exhausting, but what was done was worthwhile. It’s obvious that despite being a photographer, I can never stop being a medical doctor. I hope tomorrow ends more smoothly!



The Callanish Stones

We’ve taken the ferry to the Isle of Lewis and Harris, and have gone to Seilebost Beach for our first set of photos of the day. It’s now on to the Callanish Stones for a late afternoon shoot. This is no small distance to get there, it’s very cloudy, and the remaining daylight will not last long.

Having arrived at this great marvel, all the photographers on our trip vie for position to gain a vantage point in which there is some spacing between the stones. The problem is, all our tripods are on top of each other, it has started drizzling, and the light is fading fast. After every shot, I have to wipe the camera lens with a special cloth and must shield the lens from raindrops with my umbrella.

This has become especially difficult, in that I’m experimenting with long exposures to streak the moving clouds.

The light is now gone, and I’m looking forward to getting warm and dry. We go back to our hotel, and I’m told that tomorrow afternoon we’ll return to this site to experience different lighting conditions.

We’re back at the Callanish Stones again the next day, and now I’m getting a new feel for the way this place looks. This stone circle is situated on a low ridge, overlooking Loch Roag. The hills in the distance are referred to as the Great Bernera. Thirteen stones form a circle, with a monolith appearing in the middle. All of the stones are composed of Lewisian gneiss, with the central structure standing 4.8 meters high.

The Callanish Stones were assembled between 2900 and 2600 BC. Archaeologists have found evidence that this area was part of a prehistoric field system dating from the late Bronze age to the early Iron Age. The Stones were estimated to have been abandoned around 800 BC and covered by a thick layer of turf. It was re-discovered in 1857 when the overlying layer of peat was removed.

It’s starting to get later in the day, and the light is changing rapidly. The sky is taking on a violet hue, really something to see. The appearance of this site is significantly different from that of the day before. Ron, one of the professionals, comes by to check my compositions. With his advice, I take some of the foregrounds out and leave more for the beautiful appearing sky.

He also suggests that I start shooting in manual mode, rather than aperture priority, for optimal control of my camera.

It is dark now, and we all pile back into the bus for the long ride back to the hotel. As I review my photos, I feel good about the great natural beauty that we’ve encountered in the Scottish Highlands. I’ve also gained some good photographic knowledge from Don, Ron, and Alex, the professionals. It’s time for a beer, dinner, and some needed sleep.

A Morning in Quiraing on the Isle of Sky, Scotland

Traveling with a group of photographers, I’m here on the Isle of Sky after crossing the bridge from the mainland on this October morning in 2022. This trip was originally set to go in 2020, but because of the Covid pandemic, was postponed 2 years in a row. I had been to the Scottish Highlands while backpacking in 1978 but did not see any of the gorgeous areas, including this one, that we will be taking in on this itinerary.

We’ve been in Scotland for 5 days now, and one thing I’ve learned is that going by weather forecasts around here is worthless. The weather is so variable, there can be extremes in short amounts of time. Our trip to Quiraing on the eastern face of Meall na Suiramach is a perfect example of this.

Our vehicle ascends a steep incline into a parking lot. There is a light rain outside, and I see the professional photographers zipping up their Goretex jumpsuits. I’m dressed in waterproof boots, ski pants, a fleece and a down jacket. This is water resistant, but not waterproof. What a mistake!

A long time ago, while learning photography, I was taught that if there is inclement weather with bad light, you might as well pack it in, and come back another day. However, I learned on this trip the fallacy of this thinking.

We proceed on a path on the Trotternish Ridge escarpment, with camera bag and tripod in toe. First, it’s raining, then sleeting, and a brisk wind is blowing. My down jacket is getting soaked. On a scale of one to ten, my misery level is about a seven. Nevertheless, we set up our tripods and start shooting. My first take appears above.

Wet and cold at this point, miraculously, the weather starts to change. The rain and sleet subside, and the wind is more manageable. I keep shooting, and it now looks like I came back on a different day.

Throughout millennia, the entire Trotternish Ridge was formed by a grand series of landslips. Amazingly, Quiraing is the only part that continues to move. The road at the base of this escarpment requires that repairs be made each year.

The name Quiraing is derived from Old Norse called Kvi Rand, or “Round Fold.” Legend has it that the fold was used to conceal cattle from Viking raiders.

We continue along the ridge, stopping at different vantage points. looking for the best light, experimenting with various compositions. I’m having a great time, even though my jacket is soaked, and I’m worried that the down will start settling near the bottom. Fingers crossed!

Shooting at Quiraing, I’ve learned a few things about photographing the Scottish Highlands. The concept that landscape photography is optimal on the edges of the day does not apply. With so many clouds, the light is even, and photos taken at noon will not look that much different from those taken early or late in the day. Secondly, do not bother with the weather forecasts on your phone app. Lastly, forget trying to get by with anything except a Goretex jacket around here!

A Photographic Jaunt Through Big Talbot and Fort George Island, Jacksonville, Florida

It’s day 2 of my photographic tour through Jacksonville, Florida. I’ve had four hours of sleep, and I’m moving quite slowly. I make my way downstairs in the hotel, and head out the front door to meet my tour guide, Will Dickey. Will is late, but this is not a problem since it is 4:45 AM, and I revel at the prospect of enjoying the serenity of this ungodly hour alone for a few minutes. However, instead of a peaceful, easy feeling as espoused by the Eagles, I find a car out in front with this dude blasting raucous, loud, and obnoxious rap music! He is gyrating in the front seat to an over-powering bass beat, while my head starts pounding. After about five minutes, he pulls away, and I am left in blessed relief. Subsequently, Will pulls up, and we are off on another photographic adventure.

We drive in the dark to Big Talbot Island State Park. This is a unique sea island, a preserve for nature study, bird-watching, and photography. As we pull into the parking lot, it is just starting to get light, the perfect time to get ready for our shoot. There is one car parked, a good indication that we will have the beach to ourselves. After a half-mile hike to the beach, we arrive with about 20 minutes until sunrise.

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Big Talbot Island

This is Black Rock Beach, rife with gorgeous geologic formations and tree skeletons, having formed at the end of the last ice age about ten thousand years ago. The soil found on this beach is unique, being found in only three-four percent of land in this country. The black rock formations are composed of decayed leaves and compressed sand, some of the oldest in the world.

I set up and take my first photo as the sun rises. Time is of the essence, while the light and cloud formations are this good. However, my photographic bliss is just about to get adulterated by a photographer with a couple who have come on the scene to get wedding photos on this exquisite beach. They set up approximately thirty yards in front of me, quite presumptuous and a little irritating. Not to worry. Few things can ruin my good time here. I pick up and move down the beach to finish the shoot with about thirty minutes of good light to spare.

After downtime during the middle of the day, we wrap up in Fort George Island Cultural State Park. This area has been occupied by humans for five thousand years. Named for a garrison that was built in Seventeen Thirty-Six, Fort George Island became an area in which Native Americans feasted, and the opulent vacationed in the nineteen-twenties. The fort was built to defend Georgia’s southern flank when it was a colony.

The late afternoon sun is getting low in the sky, and we make our way to the Fort George Inlet.

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Fort George Inlet

This is an access point for the Atlantic Intra-Coastal Waterway via the Fort George River. After surveying several sites, we settle on an area near a bridge as the sun is peaking underneath a cloud in its descent towards the horizon. Gentle rays of light line up across a sandbar in front of us. We take multiple shots before the sun disappears completely.

So ends my first full day in Jacksonville. After a beer and some dinner, I have to download my photos, recharge my camera batteries, count my insect bites, and get some sleep before my alarm rings for our morning shoot. I can only hope that rap psychopath sleeps in tomorrow morning.


A Trip to the Timucuan Ecological and Historic Preserve, Jacksonville, Florida

SARS-COV-2 has run rough-shod over my photographic travels over the last 15 months! In January of 2020, I planned trips to Scotland and Jacksonville, Florida for photography trips. However, in March of 2020, all plans were curtailed as Covid-19 spread, and I spent most of the time in isolation at home with my wife, or the office doing tele-visits with patients. However, I received the Pfizer vaccine at the end of December and again in January. At its peak, 3 million Americans a day were getting vaccinated, and the number of hospitalizations and deaths started to decline. My inclination towards travel resumed.

In April of 2021, I contacted Will Dickey, a professional photographer who lives in Jacksonville, Florida for the first time since the pandemic hit. I had read with interest an article that he had written in Outdoor Photographer Magazine about the many great sites to shoot around Jacksonville. After chatting with him on the phone, I made hotel reservations and went up there for a three day weekend.

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Huguenot Pelican

It’s Friday in the late afternoon, and we arrive at the Huguenot Memorial Park. This area is a large beach on Black Hammock Island in the Timucuan Ecological and Historic Preserve in which archaeologists date human habitation to 2500 BC.

Will motors his 4-wheel drive vehicle for a fair distance down the beach to where no other cars are parked. While there are few people, numerous birds are frolicking around. This park was designated a Great Florida Birding Trail by the Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission. It is an important habitat for terns, shorebirds, and bar-tailed god-wits. We see gannets, loons, and sea ducks. My favorite species here are pelicans, one of which I photographed as shown above.

The sun is getting lower in the sky, so we hit the car and head to Saw Pit Creek. This area is very near to the George Crady Bridge Fishing Pier State Park. Some fishermen are calling it a day, and are hauling in their boats near the pier. Will and I are in luck. There are beautiful clouds in the sky, as the sun starts to set. This area is a marsh. I made the mistake of not bringing rubber boots, but not to worry, Will has an extra pair. We wade into the creek, set up our tripods and start to shoot.

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Saw Pit Creek

We get several shots from different perspectives. All in all, I’ll have to say that the locations and weather have been excellent! We pull our tripods out of the mud, pack our cameras back up in our bags, and start to trudge out of the creek. There is one problem. My right foot sinks one foot into the marsh. This is just like quicksand as far as i am concerned. I can’t extricate my foot. Will has gotten ahead of me at this point, and has to make his way back to help pull me out of the muck. My jeans have now had it for the rest of the trip!

I love nature, travel, and photography. However, I can do without mud, ruined clothes and about one hundred insect bites all over my body! I guess this is just the cost of doing business in the world of outdoor photography. I’m looking forward to another shoot tomorrow with extra insect repellant applied.







Leesburg Bike-fest, Not to be Missed

Vroooom! There are not many things louder and more disruptive than multiple motorcycles passing me as I innocently drive down 441/27 on my way to Leesburg, Fl. I’m in Leesburg heading to work at Leesburg Regional Medical Center on a Friday late in April, but traffic is not moving. Strange looking people attired in bandanas, leather jackets, bearded men with tattoos, and women with piercings in various body parts, are all on the most incredible bikes Harley Davidson has to offer. They are all lined up, ready to enter the main drag into downtown Leesburg. I can’t wait to get out of work, grab my camera, and head to the Leesburg Bike-fest!

I make my way on foot towards the city center as choppers cruise past me in single-file, while parked bikes line the street on both sides. This is billed as “the World’s Largest 3-Day Motorcycle and Music Event.”

The festival had humble beginnings in 1997 when a community association consisting of Leesburg residents, business owners and government officials coalesced to form the Leesburg Partnership. They created a one-day event that was intended to attract visitors from all over Florida, with intent to promote local business. The 1997 venue was considered a success with 5000 motorcyclists, a few bands and vendors. By 2002, the event was expanded to 3 days and was gaining momentum. As of 2009, the festival had become the largest 3-day motorcycle and music event in the country. This extravaganza now brings in $286 million, attracting thousands of visitors to the area. The venue now encompasses 30 blocks with 55+ concerts, 200+ Vendors, and 6 Hot-body Contests.

Frankly, my senses are being stimulated on overload, Not knowing where to start, I decided to start cruising the side streets. Within one minute I come across three girls that are hard to miss. Having decided that I would like to photograph them, I start following them from behind, hoping to get a candid shot. With no warning, they stop, turn around, and ask me if I would like to grab a picture of them posing. Let me think. This is a no-brainer.

I go out on Main Street, park myself at a corner, and start shooting away. This is the most fun I’ve had since doing something similar in Madurai, India. Within five minutes, a guy on a bike pulls over to start talking to me. With his helmet and leather jacket on, I’m unprepared to see one of my fellow cardiologists, and yes, a biker, from Leesburg Regional Medical Center. He tells me, “There is more to life than cardiology.”

It’s now time to head to the Towne Square Stage where Twinkle Rock & Soul Radio have started their first set. I’ll have to say, it’s pretty loud around here'; my ears are ringing. This is one of at least 55 bands that will play at this festival over 3 days. At various squares and bars throughout Leesburg, there is no dearth of raucous rock and R&B to be heard.

After checking the event listings, I decided to come back Sunday morning for one of the Hot-body contests. Arriving early, I procure a spot right next to the stage which will allow me to photograph the girls as they appear. These ladies have won other competitions throughout the country, and are ready to try their luck at the Leesburg Bike-fest. Some of the contestants are Ms. Gator Harley, Ms. Pin-up, Ms. Ratmate and Ms. Budweiser. Each has a prescribed routine as they assume the stage individually. Walking to the front, they throw front and back poses to the crowd of onlookers who are drinking beer at 11:30 AM. From the front of the stage, they head towards the three judges at the back of the stage. I’ll have to say, this is more than my normal amount of entertainment on a Sunday morning.

I’ve reached the conclusion of the Leesburg Bike-fest for me this year. The sheer numbers of amazing motorcycles, bikers from all over the country, and locals having a good time eating, drinking and listening to live music has been quite a scene. I will be sure to mark the date of next year’s bike-fest on my calendar when I get home.


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Going for Glaciers in Iceland

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We’re cruising around Iceland in counter-clockwise fashion in our Mercedes 4x4. Dui, our guide and driver, tells us that today we are headed for a few of the glacier tongues of Vatnajokull, the largest in the country and possibly in all of Europe. Vatnajokull is so enormous that it has tongues large enough to have specific names. As we pull into the parking lot, that of Falljokall comes into view.

Vatnajokull is immensely popular because of its enormous size. It has become a national park, a magnet for tour groups and hikers. Fortunately, we are here in September after school has started and early enough to beat the crowds. We get out of the 4x4, unload our camera equipment, disburse, and head towards the glacier tongue.

As I lug my gear, my mind starts wandering. What exactly is a glacier? How do they form, and what makes them flow? What is global warming doing to the world’s glaciers?

It turns out that because of Iceland’s geographic location, the sea current causes climate characteristics that, over millennia, have created world-class glacier formations, including Vatnajokull.

Glaciers are masses of ice that flow slowly down mountains and valleys with extensive erosive capabilities. As they move, mountains are sculpted into jagged ridges, peaks and deep U-shaped valleys. These vast ice sheets are immensely thick, sometimes depressing the surface of the land below sea level in many locations.

Glacier formation requires more snow to accumulate in winter relative to the amount of meltwater in summer. As layers of snow are laid down, the snowflakes below come under tremendous pressure, expelling most of the air trapped between the grains. As a result, glacial ice forms. This process can take up to hundreds of years depending on the amount of snowfall.


Glaciers begin to flow when the ice along the base begins to melt. This occurs because the temperature at the base of the ice sheet increases due to the pressure of the overlying glacial ice. The temperature of the earth contributes to basal melting, the result of which is a lubricant that allows the glacier to slide over bedrock.

The scary thing about looking at and photographing these incredible natural structures is pondering the speed with which they are melting. Because of global warming, things that under normal circumstances happen in geologic time are now occurring over a human lifetime. This is the result of the burning of fossil fuels and the accretion of greenhouse gases in the atmosphere.

Well, it’s time to pack it in and head to our next photo-op. The world’s problems, including climate change, are not going to be solved today, or unfortunately, anytime soon. By photographing the glaciers of Iceland, I at least have a record of what they looked like in 2019 for my grandson to see someday.

Touring the Waterfalls of Iceland

It’s 4:00 AM. After all these years, I’ve made it to Iceland with a group of landscape photographers with the eager intention of photographing the waterfalls, mountains, lakes, rivers and volcanoes on this sub-arctic island. As my iPhone goes off, I’m disoriented, in a state of shock. This is not a vacation. It should more appropriately be referred to as photography boot camp!

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At 4:45 AM we pile all our equipment into the Mercedes 4x4 and hit the road. Our guide and driver, Dui, an Icelandic professional photographer, tells us that we will be seeing some waterfalls today. Frankly, I do not do well at this time of morning with no coffee. The five others on the trip must feel similarly; everyone is quiet, but no one is going back to sleep.

As I sit in the 4x4 on our way to Aldeyjarfoss, Dui explains that Iceland has so many waterfalls due to the wet sub-arctic location we are in. Frequent rain and snow, together with large glaciers that melt on warmer days, all contribute to fast-flowing rivers. These give rise to a multitude of waterfalls on this island. There are said to be up to 10,000 waterfalls here when smaller water cascades over stone terraces are included.

We’ve reached Aldeyjarfoss as shown above. I can hear it before I see it! We get out of the Mercedes, grab our tripods from the back of the 4x4, and scatter in different directions looking for good vantage points to set up. Having reached an ideal ledge with tripod in place, I start what has become a learned procedure: test shot using live view to compose the photo, polarizing filter, then graduated neutral density filter, and finally the Little Stopper (6 stop neutral density filter). I experiment with slow shutter speeds to get the waterfall to appear silky smooth.

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I love Aldeyjarfoss Waterfall. Watching the Skjalfandafljot River drop twenty meters into a cold, icy pool surrounded by basalt columns, is an awesome display of nature. We’ve hit it right today, with almost perfect lighting for photographic capture.

Our next stop is Godafoss, or “waterfall of the gods.” It’s given this name for good reason. Located in the Bardardalur District of the Northeastern Region, we can see the large horseshoe shape of the falls as we approach from the Sprengisandur Highland Road. My goal at present is to photograph the falls from both sides of a bridge that leads up to this enormous chute of water.

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Legend has it that in 1000 AD, the law speaker, Porgeir, made Christianity Iceland’s official religion. Following his return from Albingi, he threw his statues of the Norse gods into Godafoss. This mythological story is illustrated by a window in the Cathedral of Akureyri.

The last afternoon shoot of the day is the gorgeous Dettifoss Waterfall. Found in North Iceland, the falls are considered to be the most powerful in Europe. The origin of the water for Dettifoss emanates from the Vatnajokull Glacier, the largest on the continent. The runoff from the glacier forms the Jokulsa a Fjollum River that cascades over the falls at 193 meters cubed per second. The river water plummets forty-five meters down into the Jokulsarljufur Canyon.

This waterfall is powerful. I have to cover my camera with a bag in between shots and wipe the lens clean with a large cloth regularly to get clear photos. The canyon is strewn with boulders and rocks, making it difficult to get the appropriate footing for my tripod. Also, there are quite a few Asian tourists here obstructing my view. I wait patiently as they take selfies with the waterfall in the background. One Chinese dude is is having his picture taken by his wife as he backs up to the precipice of the falls. I hold my breath as he does this. One false step and he is sayonara.

It’s time to pack it in and drive to our hotel. I’m completely exhausted from today’s activities and am looking forward to a beer, dinner, and bed. While on our way home, Dui mentions the possibility of photographing the Northern Lights at 10:00 PM. Is he insane? There is a reason I call this photography boot camp.