Atlantic Ocean waves crash to shore in Jökulsárlón, swirling their way around chunks of ice that have made their way to the beach from a nearby glacier.
There are few things that ignite as much fire in a photographer’s soul as being out on location, hunting for image compositions.
And nowhere is that fire tested more than in Jökulsárlón. Because the ice moves constantly, you can’t pre-scout the location. When that great light arrives, you have just moments to find the shots you want. It’s chaotic and anxiety inducing, but it’s also peaceful and invigorating. Because there’s something about being lost in those few minutes, deep in a photographic trance.
On this particular morning, I arrived late and saw approximately 189 photographers running around like chickens with their heads cut off trying to capture the perfect shot (and avoid getting soaked).
Soon I was among them, getting lost in the ice and fire.