Iceland: Mission Accomplished despite poor weather

When I booked this holiday for one, I had visions of calm seas, sunny skies and whales galore – as well as a whole bunch of photogenic avian species as a supporting cast. As I write this now (4th April), all my nightmares seem to have come true – horizontal rain and gales are all I’ve seen for two days on the bounce. The boat hasn’t even set sail yet, so zero chance of any whale-watching. The drive north on the Sunday (2nd) was nice enough; funny how dry and calm the weather was back then! And on 3rd there were moments of drier conditions when I could dash out with my lens up to nearby Rif to catch the hordes of white-winged gulls there, as well as Raven and Red-throated Diver. (I may also have spotted a couple of Long-tailed Ducks on the drive up, and there are plenty of Common Eider, Fulmar and Kittiwake around.) I even saw a Black Guillemot on the sea at Rif, albeit a distant individual, and a couple of Great Northern Diver (I think) from my bedroom window overlooking Olafsvik harbour. The best moments so far were point-blank views of Red-throated Diver on the pool to the east of Rif and a spell of flight-shot photography from the most northerly point of Rif, just west of the boulder breakwater.

Tuesday 9am update: Harlequin Duck! Just spotted one close to the boulder breakwater – from my bedroom window! Yes, it’s distant, and no, I’m not going to venture out on the boulders in this weather to capture it on film… but it’s still a nice bird to spot. (I assumed they would all be up in the north of the country and that I’d have no chance.) There is also a nice pair of Glaucous Gulls on the rocks below me. Maybe I should spend all day just staring out of the window! Even better news was that the boat was scheduled to run this afternoon, after 3 cancellations, but not until 2pm, so I decided to go back to Rif. And I got more than I bargained for. I began with some lovely confiding Redwings pecking around on the ground like Blackbirds do in the UK; views were stunning in the bright sunshine. I then walked round the corner (due west and got cracking views of Shags and Cormorant in gorgeous light, posing on headland rocks. These were especially photogenic, and I enjoyed composing my shots and studying the diagnostic differences between the two species. With much brighter and slightly calmer conditions, the absence of gulls here today was noticeable. I chose to retrace my steps and then head west along the harbour pier, keeping the breakwater boulders on my left. I caught sight of a distant flock of geese passing by, which proved to be Russian White-fronted Geese, but I could also see a huge flock of Eider over the boulders but needed to walk almost to the end to get decent views – my intention was to scan the flock just in case… I didn’t have to wait long: tracking back and forth through the mele I eventually found was I was hoping for (although I never really thought it would happen): a stunning adult drake King Eider!

This may well be the bird I saw here when I first visited Iceland a few years ago; a resident bird perhaps but still a great find. Initially, it was some way off, and the flock seemed to be drifting further away towards the open sea. But then, as luck would have it, they decided to turn back and head closer to shore. This time it was now in photo range, and I managed to get a few nice record shots. But then things got even better: as I scanned the flock to line up my sights for the King Eider, I noticed a huge dark shape just behind the flock; in fact, not one but two – my instinct said Humpback Whale, and sure enough, the photos proved this to be the case.

Surely, this must be wildlife watching at its best; who would have imagined Harlequin, King Eider and Humpback Whale being added to the trip list – without me even stepping on a boat? Anyway, I watched in awe as the two massive animals cruised past, breaching a couple of times, and showing enough for me to get a record shot. Wow! (This was my first ever land sighting of this species.)

Anyway, I needed to leave the Eiders and the whales and get ready for my first boat trip. I didn’t really know what to expect having half expected the boat to be cancelled again, at the last minute, and with the water being so choppy, would we see anything at all? I needn’t have worried. We began with Humpback Whale (what a surprise!); and almost certainly the same two I’d seen earlier that morning. Views were excellent, although it was hard to hold on with the conditions being so rough. But we got pretty close to them (5 in total during the trip, I think), and I’ll never get bored of being so close to these huge beasts. The experience takes your breath away. You can’t quite get over the size, which comes across also in their ponderous movements and the way they slowly haul themselves out of the water and then plunge below the surface again. But let’s be honest, this wasn’t what we were here for. The ‘O-word’, however, was taboo, it seemed; there was no mention by our guide if any of ‘them’ had been seen on previous trips recently, no hint as to what we might see today, nothing. Nobody dared ask. Nobody wanted to tempt fate. And this air of mystery continued, even when, after a good half an hour of searching, we eventually heard over the speaker system: “OK, so I think we might have some tall black fins up ahead…” You could hear the collected gasp of excitement; we all knew what this meant… but I, for one, didn’t really believe it: the spotter had probably made an error in a fit of wishful thinking. But no, even I could see something odd but vaguely familiar, albeit some way off – it looked like a tall black stick or the sort of thing you get on top of a buoy, swaying in the rough water. As we approached, the ‘stick’ turned side on, and this was undoubtedly the tall dark dorsal fin of my first ever Killer Whale! What a thrill! I was speechless – with joy, relief and excitement. But in a moment, the thing had vanished, and I began to wonder: Was that it? No performance, no close views, no photos… We waited, and the calm, dulcet tones of the guide were reassuring. No sense of panic. The crew were clearly confident this wouldn’t be the end of it. And sure enough, moments later, there it was again – a huge adult male Orca! Oh, yes. And now the photography could start.

The rest, as they say, is history… I can’t possibly remember and recount every jaw-dropping moment over the next hour or so; suffice to say, we saw a good 20+ individuals if I recall correctly and had great views of most. We saw them in twos or threes mostly, and some surfaced parallel to the boat, only about 10 yards away, if that. It was mind-blowing. And better still, I got some pretty satisfying images; not quite the poster pictures I was dreaming of, but not bad for a first stab. Most of my ‘viewing’ of these creatures was through the lens of my camera, and I reminded myself afterwards that I need to spend more time just watching and enjoying them. This isn’t, after all, a spectacle that I’d be experiencing too often in my lifetime; they are indeed magical animals and lived up to the hype in every way. As with the Humpbacks earlier, it’s the sound that hits you, something I hadn’t imagined until I saw and heard them in the flesh. As they surface, which they need to in order to breathe of course, they eject a spray of water droplets, clearly visible with the naked eye, and with this comes a powerful rush of air, easily audible from some distance away. To cut a long story short, the rest of the 3-hour trip was spent in pursuit of Humpbacks and Orca various, and we were rarely waiting around for more than 10-15 minutes before the next sighting. Apparently, we were also lucky today; the rough conditions made the Orca surface more and raise their bodies higher out of the water – in order to see over the waves. Clearly, this made it easier for us to observe and photograph them.

The following day, because of the previous cancellations, I had got myself onto both morning and afternoon trips; and the same was also true on the Thursday. The weather was perhaps a little calmer on Wednesday but still pretty wild by all accounts. By now, I had established a routine and knew the best place to be – the front of the boat (so I could see animals up ahead and get panoramic views, port and starboard) but on the lower of the decks (to get ‘eye-level’ shots). The platform I’d chosen also meant that others couldn’t get in my way when the whales/dolphins switched from one side of the boat to the other. Anyway, to cut a long story short, we saw more Humpback Whales (3-5 per trip, except on one of the trips where we say none) and more Orca (10-30 on every trip, much to my delight and surprise).

The best day was probably the Thursday when calm seas (and blue skies in the afternoon) meant for much easier viewing; but you could also hear the Orca far more clearly. Indeed, watching these magnificent creatures cruise through the flat water and listening (with the boat engine turned off) to their exhalations, as water vapour was sprayed into the air above them, with stunning scenery as a backdrop, was simply magical. True, the rougher weather forced the Orca to lift themselves further out of the water (giving better ‘face’ shots), but the calmer conditions later in the week made for a more serene atmosphere and enabled me to get some more wide-angle shots to include some of the dramatic setting. So, rough weather produced the best close-ups (see below); calm weather the best atmospheric images (above). Whatever the conditions, I was in heaven. By the end of the fifth boat trip, I felt I had well and truly ‘done’ Killer Whale, and this former bogey-list baddie had been elevated to the highest echelons of my all-time greatest experiences, alongside Bengal Tiger, Leopard, Resplendent Quetzal, King Eider, Capercaillie, Andean Condor, my first Humpback, Toucan, Motmot, Manakin, Parrot… It was a disappointment in a way that these ‘Killers’ seemed in the end so ‘easy’; I certainly didn’t expect to spot Orca on all five trips. (I recalled that this was my third or fourth attempt to pin down Orca.)

In terms of birds, there were bits and pieces around, but the windows of opportunity were few and far between, with poor weather and Orca trips limiting my chances of bird spotting and photography. I made the most of Thursday (the best weather day), driving south at 6am to scan the ‘lochs’ along the southern shore of the peninsula. Here, where it was still drizzly, I didn’t find the Great Northern Divers that a fellow birder had reported, but I did find a beautiful female Ptarmigan by the side of the road (always a treat, and a shock to someone used to seeing them on snowy mountain tops and nowhere else), a nice pair of Slavonian Grebe in summer plumage and plenty of Whooper Swans. I returned to Olafsvik just before my first boat trip and took some nice shots of c.100 Purple Sandpiper – always a nice bird to see - on the rocks below the cliffs.

I had a lovely time on the Thursday afternoon making the most of the best of the weather, about ½ mile east of Olafsvik, down on the beach, at the bottom of the river cutting through the cliffs (best accessed from the bridge). Here, the birds (mainly Fulmar and Northern Eider) were feeding frantically amongst the flotsam and jetsam on the shoreline, dodging the waves and avoiding the marauding Glaucous Gulls. I chose to focus on the Eider, and it was only afterwards that it occurred to me that these were likely to be of the borealis race, a real rarity in Britain. In fact, the mini sails on the birds I was watching stood out enough for me to notice them and made me wonder whether they were present on Common Eider (which they are not, of course). Anyway, I spent a very happy couple of hours here trying to capture the beauty of these birds as they searched for shellfish in the shallows – in the most gorgeous of light.

Friday proved to be the worst day of the week by far with gale force winds and heavy rain making birding virtually impossible. I did manage to venture down to the ‘beach’ again, and got distant views of Harlequin, and a lone Common Sandpiper, but I spent most of my time trying to prevent the rain and sand getting to my lens and to avoid being blown over. Most of my day was spent editing photographs and re-packing.

Before heading south on the Saturday, I decided to check out the small forest just east of Olafsvik and here found more Redwing (singing) and a small flock of Redpoll. I’m not clear what (sub-)species this was, and the picture around ID here is a complex one. I found this on the Internet: The Icelandic Redpoll (A. f. islandica) is a common breeding and wintering passerine in Iceland. Three plumage forms have been described: a ‘pale’ form, characterized by whitish rump and underparts with moderately streaked plumage; a ‘dark’ form, with boldly streaked plumage and a lack of white rump; and the ‘indeterminate’ form, which has a whitish rump and relatively streaked plumage (Herremans). I then took a detour to Hellnar, on the south coast of the Snaefellsnes Peninsula, for no other reason that it seemed the only place likely to be sheltered from the strong south-easterlies. I was very pleasantly surprised when I got there. I ended up spending about 4 hours here. Not only was it a pretty little place with an impressive seabird colony (mainly Fulmar and Kittiwake), which you could observe from below and above, but I also noticed a decent raft of seaduck, which proved to be Harlequin. Better still, they seemed to want to hang around the relatively sheltered cove here and when the rain eventually stopped, I ventured down to the harbour wall and once the tide had receded, chanced my luck on the concrete platform overlooking the inner bay. Pleasingly, the birds came ever closer such that they were within about 15-20 yards, sometimes less. I spent a couple of hours here (and on the opposite side of the bay amongst the boulders lining the shore) trying to capture the activity and the beauty of these stunning creatures. The light was never quite right, unfortunately, but I still got some very satisfying images experimenting with different backdrops.

The three-hour drive south was uneventful. I found Greylag Goose and Pink-footed Goose in small numbers but nothing else. Other than struggling to find the car rental place at 4.30am on the Sunday (I resorted to flagging another car down!) - and the luggage labelling machine not working and the flight being delayed by an hour! - there was nothing else to report. It had been a very successful trip, especially on the Orca front, and this was, after all, my key target species this week. Yes, it would have been nice to have better weather to search for Arctic Fox and the Northern Lights, but apart from this, I couldn’t complain.