The Call to Iceland


Anyone who's dipped their toes in landscape photography knows places like Iceland are at the pinnacle of the genre. With vast open landscapes, countless waterfalls, 30 active volcanoes, glaciers, icebergs, black sand beaches, natural geothermal spas, and a breed of Icelandic Horses known only to the small island nation, there are framable images literally around every corner. Add to the fact that when you're there, you feel like you've stepped into another world. It's hard to convey the scale and strange beauty of the place through stories and photos alone. This is just somewhere you need to go see for yourself.


To celebrate 40 trips around the sun, Katie asked what I wanted to do. She knew a photography trip was on my mind as I had suggested going on a guided tour to her before. Friends and family of ours had recently visited Iceland and all gave it raving reviews. So for us, the decision was easy. We'd make plans to visit the otherworldly Nordic country of Iceland in the Fall with camera, drone, and sense of adventure coming along for the journey.

A Landscape Like No Other


When I say it's hard to describe Iceland, what I mean is there's no place on Earth (at least that I've seen) that combines volcanoes and vast lava flows covered in green moss butting up against massive glaciers that began forming during the last Ice Age 34 million years ago. Add to that towering waterfalls, canyons, black sand beaches and often a sense that you and your travel mates are the only ones on the island. On several occasions driving across this wild terrain, there were no other cars on the road with us for miles in any direction. No other people or built structures within site. And it felt like we were the only people left on Earth.


Depending on the time of year, the sun barely rises over the horizon, hanging low all day and giving you hours of that golden glow most of us chase for an hour or so during sunrise and sunset. In Iceland, there are times where you can photograph all day and enjoy soft dramatic light that gives your images a sense of calm and clarity that can be hard to replicate anywhere else. Capturing stunning images is almost too easy.


The High Point and the Doubt


For 10 days, Katie and I hiked, explored, and experienced so much of what Fall in Iceland had to offer. The photos I was capturing of this place were incredible and there was very little I felt I didn't see. As a photographer, something I enjoy is always pushing myself to get better. Learning something new that will improve my photography and visual storytelling. A new way to compose an image with all the right elements. A new way to capture a moment in 1/2000 of a second that's in focus, properly exposed, and engages the viewer in a way that's both arresting and inspiring. Photography in Iceland provides this and more.


So, then what's the trouble? It sounds perfect. And in many ways it was. But a few weeks after returning home, after I'd gone through all the images, made all the Instagram posts, organized a photo book, and ordered wall prints, I began to feel like this was a photography trip I'd never be able to top. And if I can't top it, if I can't improve and grow, will I end up unfairly comparing images from my next trip to those I created in Iceland? Had I prematurely hit my landscape photography peak?

Reconciling with the Journey

In the more than a year that's followed, I've begun to reconcile a few truths about myself that aren't limited to photography. This photographic experience in Iceland, and the feeling of peaking that followed, helped me realize deeper personality traits that suggest I can be perhaps both achievement oriented and restless at the same time. That I can sometimes be a novelty seeker, more interested in the pursuit of something than the thing itself. This experience forced me to take a deep look inwards to solve this mystery.


Because how could this be when it comes to travel and photography? These are two things I love independent of each other - and I still felt drawn to after the trip. And when combined, there's no greater experience. The feeling I get each time I get a great shot and share it with others - or just keep it for myself - is a rush. But this is sense of accomplishment, I've realized, can fade in the blink of an eye and be quickly replaced by the next one. And the next one. And the next...


After Iceland, I returned to Chicago and barely picked up my camera for weeks. I had hit the ultimate creative block. I shared this strange experience with Katie, (who I think was more confused than I was), and began to dig deep to understand why this was happening. 

Where I Go From Here


If you keep up with me at all on Instagram (Oh, Instagram...), or Facebook you'll notice I've jumped back in the metaphorical saddle. After a brief hiatus following Iceland, I've photographed Grand Teton, Yellowstone, Chicago, Houston, The Colorado Rockies, Los Angeles and Southern California, and several other locations. I've captured wildlife photography, street portraiture, and begun to learn the art and skill of studio photography and lighting. Something I was very intimidated by at first but am now much more comfortable with. 


I've even formed a photography and videography LLC and have begun orienting my skillset towards local commercial clients on a part-time basis, (I've not gained much traction here...but more on that later...). 


What I learned about myself following Iceland, is to be present in the moment and content with what you've accomplished...you're on a journey and this is a waypoint. Enjoy the house you've built, and don't always have your eye on the horizon daydreaming about the next thing. While it's great to have ambition, goals, and a desire to continue learning and growing, it's important to realize life is full of peaks and valleys. And just because you've reached a peak on your journey, doesn't mean you've peaked. And like many things in my photography journey, this experience has helped be a better, more present photographer on every trip since.


"The grass is greener where you water it" is a phrase I've come to adopt and try to live by, although I still have room to improve, thanks to my experience in Iceland. And my photography, and interest in deepening this skillset, has greatly improved as a result.