Iceland 2024: Miscellaneous

Many photo opportunities snuck up on us while we were in Iceland.  Here are the best of our unexpected shots.

I love the look of Icelandic Sheep.  I don't love the green ear tag quite as much.

The night sky outside our bubble hotel near Ölvisholt was beautiful, even if we didn't see the northern lights.

Eyjafjallajökull, site of the infamous 2010 eruptions that disrupted European air travel.

I don't honestly remember exactly where this was.  I just liked the look of the glacial runoff, and Danelle pulled off the road so I could walk down to the water's edge for this shot.

Yoda Cave, called Gígjagjá in Icelandic, was a location we specifically sought out.

And we were fortunate enough to have it all to ourselves for a while.

Another location I can't specifically recall, but I loved how ominous the low clouds made the already stunning scenery look.

Hiking along the shore of Jökulsárlón early in the morning was incredibly peaceful.

Danelle and I weren't up for a hike into Fjaðrárgljúfur, though it did look mysteriously inviting.

And that brings my Iceland photos to an end!  An absolutely gorgeous country that I hope to return to at a different time of year to see and shoot again someday.

Related Links:

• Iceland 2024: Blue Lagoon
• Iceland 2024: Thingvellir National Park
• Iceland 2024: Gullfoss
• Iceland 2024: Skógafoss
• Iceland 2024: Vík, Part I
• Iceland 2024: Vík, Part II
• Iceland 2024: Diamond Beach
  
• Iceland 2024: Waterfalls

St. Mary's Falls, April 2024

The calendar may say spring, but winter hasn't completely released its grip on Colorado just yet.  So I made plans to capture some through my lens while I still could.  The destination: St. Mary's Falls in North Cheyenne Cañon Park.

I woke up the morning of my planned expedition to low temperatures and low visibility.  Undaunted, I made the hour drive and hit the trailhead. electing to savor the conditions rather than bemoan them.

Not sure what this bird was, but I do appreciate silhouettes.

An apparent abandoned mine distracted me for a moment, but I had a waterfall to get to so I didn't explore it extensively.

The fog and barely freezing temperatures resulted in quite a bit of frost on tree branches...

...and lower-lying vegetation.

The last half mile or so was pretty steep, so I became laser-focused on just getting to the falls.  And that focus was rewarded with precisely the sort of wintry scene I'd been hoping for. 

I had gambled that the falls would no longer be completely frozen over, and the gamble paid off. 

I soon became fascinated by the ice build-up on the surrounding trees, so I switched from trying to take in the whole scene to zooming in on smaller details.

This occupied me for quite some time.

I don't like the results zooming out to this degree quite as much for some reason.

Yeah, splitting the difference just doesn't do it for me.  Tight close-ups I like, and the full views of the falls I like.  All or nothing, I suppose.

On my descent, I stopped much more frequently to capture what I was seeing.  This frost-covered plant reminded me of a sea creature.

  

Frost spikes on a yucca caught my eye.

As did these, though again I feel like this middle-ground view is my least favorite.

I've got a pretty good idea what picture is going to be on my Christmas card this year.

I definitely appreciated how clear the trail itself was of ice and snow.  That made the journey much more manageable.

Pasqueflowers still delight me.  I don't understand the science behind them blooming in freezing weather, but I love their role as heralds of springtime in the Rockies.

I know it looks like I got down on my belly for this shot, but I'll let you -- dear blog reader -- in on the secret.  This flower was going on the side of a steep embankment along the trail.  So I was really just standing comfortably with my camera at eye level.  Still, I really like the shot.

I had passed a couple of other hikers on the trail who remarked how much they liked the spiderwebs along the trail.  I replied that I hadn't noticed them but would keep an eye out on my way back.  Turns out there were only hundreds of them, cleverly hidden a couple of feet off the trail.  Apparently I was not at my most observant at the onset of my hike.

Roughly 6 1/2 miles and 2,000 feet of elevation gain in 3:20:48, which I included my time shooting the waterfall because I forgot to pause my app.  And worth every minute!

Great Smoky Mountains National Park 2022, Part II

A couple of hours into my hike to Charlies Bunion, and my longest trek of my road trip was going really well.  I felt strong at the midpoint, and I was making good time.

Alas, I was not to have exactly the dramatic vista I was hoping for at the overlook.  The Great Smoky Mountains were living up to their name this day, and the smoke was thick.

The bunion itself is an interesting landmark, rising starkly from the lush landscape.  There were many small, gray birds there looking for handouts, but none were interested in sitting still long enough for a picture.

The return hike was all about capturing the flowers.  The bright overcast conditions were perfect for photographing this Hollow Joe-Pye Weed ...

... and another Turk's-cap Lily ...

... and ANOTHER Turk's-cap Lily.  Seriously, they were really gorgeous.

Many of the blossoms stood out strikingly from their dark backgrounds, like this Cutleaf Coneflower.

I really wasn't familiar with Ghost Pipe before this hike.  I wasn't even sure if they were plants or fungus or what.  But they were creepy and compelling.

Speaking of creepy and compelling, the "smoke" had settled into some lower parts of the trail.  So an atmospheric shot was the proper response.

Great hike to end that phase of my road trip.  Eight miles in four hours -- perfect pacing.  A long drive to Memphis still awaited me, but I was recharged and ready for the rest of my summer.

Now it's been two months, and I need another hike!

Related Links:

• Great Smoky Mountains National Park 2022, Part I
• Great Smoky Mountains National Park: Grotto Falls

Olympic Peninsula, July 2021: Tongue Point

The Salt Creek Campground is just a short walk from some popular tide pools on Tongue Point.  So once we got situated, that was where I headed.

I timed my visit at low tide so I could hopefully see some critters in the aforementioned tide pools.  And the critters that were the most obvious were California Mussels, which covered many of the exposed rocks.

The area was crowded, which was not surprising for a summer afternoon.  So when I found this composition I waited patiently for other visitors to leave the scene, then quickly shot my shot.  You can't see the steam rising off the sand as well in the image as I could in person.

I walked up to the sea stack to get a closer look, and really like this view back towards the point.

I enjoyed searching the tide pools, and eventually figured out which ones were most likely to be active.  I was mainly hoping to catch sight of starfish and anemones, and got one of the two when I spotted this Giant Green Anemone.

This pool was a delight, full of small fish and crabs.  The red item intrigued me -- I wasn't sure if it was a living creature or not.  It looked a bit like a red tennis ball that had been sliced open. Turns out that it's a Painted Anemone!

Purple Shore Crabs are quite small, and very well camouflaged against the rocks.  It was challenging to watch this one scurry about.

I never did see a starfish, but I even enjoyed just seeing the plant life growing in the pools.  I just haven't spent a lot of time on sea coasts in my life, so I found it fascinating.

I left and came back towards dusk to try and shoot the sunset.  Unfortunately, there were clouds with other plans.  This would prove to be a recurring theme on our trip whenever we were along the coast.  Still, being much closer to high tide and with a bit of a breeze the sea stack had a very different look.

The clouds grew thicker, and the scene grew creepier -- and frankly, more what I'd expected of the Pacific Northwest.  So despite the absence of the sunset I sought, I still had what I had built up in my mind as a quintessential coastal experience.

More from the Olympic Peninsula:

• Dungeness and Sequim
• Salt Creek Campground
• Lake Crescent
• Kalaloch Beaches
• Hoh Rainforest
• Rialto Beach
• Northwest Corner
• Bogachiel State Park
• Hurricane Ridge
• Camp Forever Young

Shenandoah National Park: Compton Peak

I rose early on my final morning in Shenandoah National Park, planning to get in a hike to Compton Peak before making the four-hour drive to Cuyahoga Valley National Park.

The morning was quite foggy, which made for a lovely atmospheric scene in the trees.

Early morning is when the wildlife was active, including a pair of Wild Turkeys ...

... and a White-Tailed Deer doe.

... the view from the summit of Compton Peak was slightly underwhelming.  Nature is like that sometimes!

I actually found the view from the summit back down the trail more striking.

There's another trail heading away from the summit that leads to "columnar jointing of basalt and greenstone, the result of molten lava squeezing through cracks in the earth and drying in astonishing geometric patterns" as described by OutdoorProject.com.

The formations are very similar to the hexagons at Giant's Causeway in Northern Ireland, which I'd been fortunate enough to see in person six years ago.

I believe that the universe tends to move towards chaos.  So when I see something in nature as orderly as these rocks or a Nautilus shell, I'm always amazed.

The hike covered just under three miles and took me almost exactly 90 minutes.  And with my early start, I was on the road to Ohio by 8 a.m. after a wonderful inaugural visit to Shenandoah National Park!