To see and photograph this small cousin of our common red fox has been a dream of mine ever since I first saw a picture of an arctic fox. One of the places where it can be found in relatively large numbers is the North West of Iceland, a destination that I have been dreaming about for a long time too. At the beginning I had been planning to spend a couple of weeks looking for foxes in the area over the summer, the only time when the Hornstradir peninsula is accessible to visitors. Unfortunately the rest of the family does not share my enthousiasm for the arctic fox (or indeed any other animal) nor do they have the patience to search for them. I don’t mind travelling on my own, but planning a trip to such a remote and inhospitable place did seem rather daunting. Hence, when I came across Phil’s (Explograph) photographic workshops I grabbed the opportunity to join one of them. On top of that, the trip was planned for February, a period when the arctic foxes wear their most beautiful winter coat. What more could one ask for?
This is my first trip of this kind, I have absolutely no idea what to expect, I know neither Phil nor any of the other group members. Given the unpredictable icelandic weather conditions I have planned to arrive a day earlier in Reykjavik. That way I am sure not to miss the internal flight the next morning.
In the evening I meet two of the other members of the group, Jacques and Frédéric. Knowing that I was on my own, they kindly suggested I join them for dinner in a local restaurant. A hell of a lot better than spending the evening in my room eating a sandwich! I am relieved to find that my new travel compagnions are nice and have a great sense of humour.
The next morning we head to the airport for our internal flight to Isafjördur. Seeing the tiny plane that is meant to take us there is a bit of a shock – Jacques assures me that icelandic pilots are the best in the world, but I am definitely not convinced. Nevertheless the wild beauty of the snowy peaks below us makes me occasionally forget the scaryness of the bumpy ride. Looking out the window as the pilot prepares for landing I begin to understand why flights to Isafjördur are regularly cancelled. The town is situated in a narrow valley, flanked by abrupt cliffs and during strong winds manouvering a tiny plane safely seems a bit of a challenge even for an experienced pilot.
At the airport Phil is already waiting for us and we also meet the remainder of the group. We are a surprisingly international mix: 2 French, 1 English, 1 Australian, and a Kuwaiti.
We spend our first day in and around Isafjördur, starting with a visit to the nearby Arctic Fox Centre (http://www.melrakki.is/) where we learn more about the foxes’ biology and history. In the afternoon we hang around the surrounding hills some time, scanning them for ptarmigan, in vein, although quite common, today they don’t seem to be willing to play ball.
After a night in Isafjördur we set off for our final destination the following morning. Our base for the next 6 days is just over an hour’s boat ride away, luckily the sea is calm. Like most of the old farm buildings dotted about either side of the wild and rugged coastline of the fjords, our home for the next few days was abandoned by its owners in the 1940’s. During that period virtually all the farmers of the area moved into town in search for a better and easier life, leaving behind memories of an eternal struggle for survival in such a remote and inhospitable part of the world.
These days a growing number of farmhouses, often still in the hands of the same families, find a new life. They are being used as holiday homes over the summer. Our house is no exception, it belongs to the family of our host Runar, he spent 4 years restoring it and turning it into a beautiful, comfortable little gem in the middle of a white paradise. There are no roads to get here, and no neighbours. No landing dock, the only way to get from the boat to the beach is by zodiac. And as the house is situated on a rocky outcrop, high above the beach, the first thing for us to do is to carry luggage, provisions and photographic equipement up the steep snow covered slope.
We have barely arrived when the first fox appears on top of the cliff to observe our doings. Very encouraging for the rest of our stay!
I have to say that we couldn’t have found a better place to stay. Phil is always cheerful and ready to help with good advice. The house is rustique but very comfortable and Runar is the perfect host. Every day he prepares us the most delicious dishes, much appreciated after many hours outside in the freezing cold. The foxes have the rather annoying habit of showing up precisely when we are about to start eating, as if they had smelled the soup. Luckily Runar is not the type to get grumpy when everybody abandons lunch and lurches outside at those times!
Around here there is no mobile phone network and no WIFI. Most of us appreciate this as part of the charm of a perfect getaway, but I get the impression it is unbearable for one of the group members, our only social network addict.
No TV either in the house, but with the clear and sunny weather for the first two days we have high hopes to see some Northern lights in the evenings. Sadly towards the end of every day the clouds arrive and spoil the view. Jacques and Frédéric were lucky enough to see some during their few days in Iceland prior to the beginning of the workshop. Frédéric is the only one who has the courage to get up on an hourly basis during the night to check the skies. And he has promised to wake us in case of any interesting developments !
I had tried to prepare for photographing in these extreme winter conditions as best as possible. My main worry were frozen toes, but in the end it was my fingers that suffered most. Even when the sun is out, the freezing wind turns them into icicles in no time. Some members of the group have special gloves developped for photographers, but I didn’t feel particularly comfortable with them – too thick and bulky to be able to control the camera efficiently. And in any case, even with the big gloves my hands were still freezing. In the end my most reliable ally was a small rechargeable handwarmer in my pocket. Staying reactive under those conditions is a challenge, the foxes can show up very suddenly and from anywhere. It is also advisable to check on batteries and memory cards when inside the house, there is nothing worse than having to change them outside in a rush, especially with frozen fingers.
On our fourth day the blizzard outside is blowing so hard that we have to spend the day inside the house. Some die-hards attempt to go out, but under the circumstances (winds blowing at 110km/h) they quickly give up. In any case the foxes are not mad enough to waste their energy, in this weather they would have found themselves a safe and sheltered spot to wait for the storm to pass. The waste water pipes have frozen, we have to use the dry toilets in the little hut outside. Makes you think twice about having another cup of tea or coffee!
A whole day locked up together in a small house, there is hardly any better way to test the cohesion of a group. But despite our linguistic and (sometimes surprising) cultural differences everybody gets along fine and the day passes quickly. Phil entertains us with various anecdotes and technical advice, and needless to say Runar’s regular culinary delights lift our spirits.
The next morning we wake up to yet another unpleasant surprise : After the waste pipes, the drinking water supply has now frozen too. At high tide there is no access to the small river near the house, Runar has to melt snow for hot beverages whilst we wait for the tide to go out. Only then can him and Phil go down to fill a barrel with drinking water. Hauling it up the steep slippery slope to the house demands a considerable effort, even for 2 people with a sledge. At the very last moment, only a couple of meters from the top, a certain member of the group quickly hands his Gopro to Runar to film him pulling the toboggan as if he had been the one doing all the work. If only his facebook fans knew the truth…..
Today is our last full day, the weather has improved slightly, even if the wind is still strong and snow is swirling through the air. The ground around the house feels like a skating rink and you need to watch your every step. I wish I had spikes for my boots. Heavy gusts of wind try to blow us off the top of the cliff. I negociate my way down to the beach, but the steps that Phil carved into the snowdrift for the last meter have disappeared under the new snow. But before I can investigate any further the cantilever of the snowdrift caves in under my weight (no doubt a result of Runar’s delicious meals) and I find myself head first on the beach below. Luckily Frédéric has seen my misadventure from above and rushes to extract me.
For Phil and Runar the hard work is not nearly over yet. During yesterday’s blizzard the zodiac has disappeared under a thick layer of new snow. Not only do they have to find it, but they also have to dig it out in order for us to be able to leave tomorrow.
Yes, unfortunately tomorrow is already our last day, the days here have flown by quickly, too quickly. I certainly would not be unhappy if we were to find ouselves stuck here for a little longer…
Our last day today, the boat is due to pick us up in the afternoon. We make the most of our last few hours, the foxes are around, I really don’t feel like leaving. Just as we are loading the zodiac we spot one of the young foxes curled up in the snowdrift overlooking the beach. He is watching with one eye, seemingly unimpressed.
As the boat pulls away I watch with a heavy heart as the house gets smaller and smaller until it disappears in the distance. We had such a wonderful time here, I will definitely have to come back another time. And I already have two very valuable excuses, we didn’t get to see any Northern lights and no white fox either.
After another night in Isafjördur our morning flight back to Reykjavik is delayed. The wind is too strong, nobody wants to take any risks. Our flight is finally rescheduled for early afternoon. Another nerve-racking hour in the air and we touch down in Reykjavik where we all go our separate ways. I have another day in the capital, Jacques and Frédéric head off for another few days touring the island, and the others have to rush to catch their return flights.
A very big thank you to Phil and Runar for a truly fantastic trip!
