BEHIND THE LENS: Thom Tammaro ON “Calved Glacier Chunk, Jökulsárlón Glacier Lagoon, Iceland”
Say azure. Say cerulean. Say turquoise. Say maya. Say cornflower. Say ice blue.
We approached Jökulsárlón Glacial Lagoon as we drove west, on the last leg of a nine-day drive around the Ring Road (about 850 mi.) that circles the island of Iceland. You will find the lagoon about five-hours (235 mi.) east of Reykjavik. The lagoon—Iceland’s deepest lake at 930 feet—is difficult to miss, as the Ring Road bridge carries you directly over the lagoon, which is then easily accessible, just a short walk from the car park. There is no admission. Consequently, it is one of the most popular tourist stops in Iceland. But don’t let that hinder you from going there. With its milky-white-and-blue coloring, the lagoon is one of the most stunning landscapes in Iceland. Say azure. Say cerulean. Say turquoise. Say maya. Say cornflower. Say ice blue.
Lagoon icebergs, varying size in the seven square-mile area of the lagoon, are made of 1,000-year-old ice. The lagoon forms naturally from the melting water of Vatnajökull, Europe’s largest glacier. If you are vigilant, you will see giant blocks of white ice “calve” from the glacier tongue as they begin their drift along the 1.5 mi. watery journey that gradually narrows then empties into the Atlantic Ocean. Once they leave the glacial tongue, their color turns milky-white or a brilliant blue. Glacier density—combined with air bubbles trapped within the ice and the dance of light and ice crystals—absorbs all colors of the spectrum except for blue. Some “calves” can reach well-over 100 feet high and just as wide. If you are lucky, you’ll witness huge melting chunks tip over as the warmer water melts the underside of the iceberg as it makes its way to the Atlantic Ocean. And if you’re even luckier, you’ll delight in watching seals swim among the many calved chunks and leap on and off temporary ice floes.
As the ice chunks move toward the Atlantic, wind and warming temperatures sculpt them into abstract shapes. Ocean waves polish some of the chunks to a crystal clear finish, while others turn into blue gems. The tides tow them back to the black volcanic sand shoreline, called Breiðamerkursandur—Black Sand Beach. The contrast of the crystal-clear ice chunks resting on the black sand beach gives the beach its more recent name—Diamond Beach. Most striking, however, are the blue ice chunks against the black sand.
As I strolled the black sand beach that mid-September day, I made this photo. The tides and winds were rather brisk, so there was a great deal of action as the waves slammed against the stranded ice chunks. I wanted to capture the halo-like spiral patterns of the spray. I made this image with my iPhone 8 (having left my Canon back in the SUV). I made several images, as I waited patiently between the ebb and flow of the tide and the waves smashing against the ice chunks.
The overall experience of Jökulsárlón Glacial Lagoon is breathtaking. Lonely Planet describes the Jökulsárlón Glacial Lagoon as "a ghostly procession of luminous blue icebergs." Words like “other-worldly” and “surreal” come to mind, but don’t do it justice. Instead, say azure. Say cerulean. Say turquoise. Say maya. Say cornflower. Say ice blue.