There is a branch extending over the stream which is covered in bird excrement, a clue to the bird’s favoured vantage point. Almost every time I go out to the car, I see him perched on the same spot, and as soon as he spots me he shoots off down the river, a streak of orange and blue.

Over the last two days I’ve been using the car as a hide from which to trigger the camera remotely in order to get a closer look at him. Initially I had the camera perched on the bank, which is about four feet above water level, and was able to get three pictures of him in varying poses as he sat on the branch, looking for food. Today, however, I set the camera up in the water itself, so was able to get down to his level, and the final picture of this quartet was taken from this angle, showing him in glorious profile.

Here are a few pics from the evening.

Over the next few days I set out on various routes achievable from the capital in a single day. The weather forecast for pretty much the whole week was showing as constant rain, but as they say in Iceland, if you don’t like the weather, just wait five minutes. Indeed, I was blessed by mostly fine weather for much of my time on the road, and occasionally by air so clear that I could see mountains several kilometres away without a hint of haze.

The aforementioned Reykjanes peninsula (or Reykjanesskagi to give it its full name in Icelandic) has recently seen the completion of a fully surfaced road stretching along its southern extent, from Grindavík in the west to the ferry port at Þórklashöfn in the east. I headed towards the latter town from Reykjavík on a route that passes through the high altitude Hellisheiði pass. It’s not uncommon for the weather in the pass to be very different from that in the city, and so it proved as the light drizzle in Reykjavík gave way to a snow-covered landscape with ice on the road and cloud everywhere. The descent towards Hveragerði is a steep, winding road where you have to be exceptionally careful not to lose grip, especially when it is slippery. Driving down this route gives one a clear indication of just how dangerous driving in Iceland can be if you are not careful, and this is on one of the best roads there is.

Þórlakshöfn is one of two terminals for the ferry service to the Westman Islands. The other, Landeyjahöfn, is further east, and recently took over as the primary terminal as it allows for a much shorter crossing. Þórlakshöfn however remains active as a backup for when ferries are unable to take the shorter route. The community of villages and farms nearby gather at Strandarkirkja, a small wooden church, typical of rural Iceland, built right on the coast. It is separated from the beach, where the bitterly cold sea meets harsh volcanic rocks and black sand, by a wall of rocks which was still covered in a dusting of rain-washed snow.

Strandarkirkja, a small church near Þórklákshöfn in southwest Iceland

I walked over some slippery steps, supporting myself with the aid of the freezing-cold metal chain handrail, to explore the textures on the beach, as the tide was quite low. Seaweed, basalt, black sand and shallow water channels provided variety and interest. Back by the church, a statue by Gunnfriður Jónsdóttir called Landsýn (Land in Sight) looks out over the ocean, and there was a line of snow up the figure’s back indicating just how strong the wind had been recently.

The slippery path over the sea defences at Strandarkirkja

Lava textures on the beach at Strandarkirkja

Black sand on the beach at Strandarkirkja

A crack in the lava on the beach at Strandarkirkja

Landsýn (“Land in Sight”), a statue by Strandarkirkja

Further west lies the sleepy fishing town of Grindavík, where the Grindavík Ice Company provides crates of ice for the local fishermen. I’m used to seeing ice out in the wild in Iceland, but the stacks of ice-filled containers outside the company’s bright red warehouse was a less familiar sight! On the way to Grindavík the road passes some extremely odd shaped volcanic structures, one of which looks like an octopus emerging from an roiling ocean that has been frozen into solid lava.

Rocktopus!

If you continue further still, the road heads to a hot spring area called Gunnuhver, where a ghost called Gunna is said to have caused much perturbation until being tricked into falling into a hot spring. The cold weather meant that the steam from the hot springs, with its now familiar (to me) eggy/Marmitey smell, overwhelmed the whole area, leaving the bubbling mud and boiling water invisible. However the wooden walkways through the area disappeared into the steam in a wonderfully gothic way.

The wooden path at Gunnuhver disappearing into the steam

Turning north, back towards the international airport at Keflavik, one crosses the fault line that lies between the North American and Eurasian tectonic plates. Those ever resourceful Icelanders have built a ‘bridge between the continents’ at one point, where you can stand above the ever-widening crack as the two plates move apart by a few centimetres every year. The gap is filled with black sand and not, as some might expect, boiling lava, which means you can walk beneath the bridge as well as over it.

The bridge between continents — North America on the left, Eurasia on the right

As I headed back towards Reykjavík, I took a detour past Kleifarvatn, a lake which in 2000 began to drain away slowly, after a fissure was opened up by an earthquake in the area. Even now it’s possible to see how far it has receded as there are vast black sandy areas between the edge of the lake and the rocks by the road. Interestingly shaped chunks of ice had formed at the edge of the lake, and tyre marks left by some no-doubt bonkers 4x4 contraption had part-filled with snow, making shapes that in places resembled writing in some foreign script.

Ice shapes on the edge of Kleifarvatn

Snow and tyre tracks at Kleifarvatn

Back in Reykjavík, I visited Perlan (The Pearl) to grab a shot of one of my favourite views of the city. Heavy bands of cloud overhead ensured there would be no aurora viewing tonight, but they did help to provide some impressive light over the bay.

View of Reyjkavík from Perlan. The large church is Hallgrímskirkja, Hallgrímur’s church, whose design was influenced by the basalt columns common throughout Iceland.

Late sun over the bay at Reykjavík, seen from Perlan

After some food, and once it was completely dark outside, I headed down to Harpa, the concert hall by the harbour, to photograph the light show created by individual strips of light contained within each cell of its pseudogeological façade. You can watch a video of the display here.

Reykjavík’s amazing dynamically lit concert hall and opera house, Harpa.

The green and red lights dancing across the façade were reminiscent of the aurora

The display went on all night, as far as I could tell.

Head on over on 29th for the next Folkroom event. You won’t be disappointed.

I have also visited Switzerland, the Shetland Islands, and the Lake District, and special mention should also go to my hosts Simon in Zürich (who is now in Brussels) and Frances in Shetland.

Finally, thanks to my many friends who have supported and encouraged me throughout the year. You know who you are, so I won’t name you as I’ll only forget someone.

Anyway here is an end-of-year round-up of my favourite images from this pivotal year. Hope you enjoy them as much as I enjoyed taking them.

Then, last night, almost exactly one year after I took my first set of gig photographs, I shot Emir Kusturica and the No Smoking Orchestra at the Royal Festival Hall, supported by Gabby Young and Other Animals, as part of London Jazz Festival — two bands who brought the house down. For an all seater venue, there was an awful lot of dancing going on, and at one point the audience were even invited onto the stage, much to the dismay of the house staff who were trying desperately to retain a sense of order…