the dailypic 5621 yr16 142 Vestrahorn 012725

My latest trip to Iceland revolved around one location: Vestrahorn.

On my first visit with family in 2017, we skipped it, only viewing the mountain from outside the access road. It’s privately owned road, gated, and at the time, paying a fee to see “one more mountain” didn’t seem necessary—everything around us was already stunning. How much better could the so-called “toll mountain” be?

Fast forward to my next trip, when I traveled the south coast with a group of photographers. This time, we had access to the road, though only for a brief stop. That short visit was enough to captivate me. Ever since I’ve tried to work Vestrahorn into every Iceland itinerary, but it never quite fit. It’s a seven hour drive from the airport with no stops, and with so many breathtaking sites in between, it took me over twelve hours to reach it.

This time, I decided to stop overthinking and just go to that spot instead of fitting it in. That’s how trip number seven to Iceland happened—one destination, one goal: to see Vestrahorn in every possible light.

I stayed in the small village of Höfn, just 20 minutes from the access road entrance. Day one was all about getting to Hofn. Day two was dedicated entirely to Vestrahorn. Sunrise was at 9:48 AM, and by 9:30, I was at the Viking Café, grabbing a ticket for the road and an incredible waffle dish that I wish I had gotten again before I left. Though just yards away, the mountain was completely hidden behind low clouds. The kind woman at the counter reassured me: “Head in and wait—it’ll be worth it.”

After a 5-hour flight and a 12-hour drive, there was nothing else to do but wait.

I explored a small section at the base of the mountain—a Viking movie set, which was interesting but not my focus. Pretend old buildings, a pretend Viking boat. As I absentmindedly snapped a picture I’d probably never use, something changed. The sunlight broke through—just for a moment—illuminating the highest peak. No one else was around. It was just me and the light. I captured the shot above, then stood in awe as the light faded again. At that moment, if that had been the only glimpse I got all day, I would have been content.

But it wasn’t.

Over the next 90 minutes, the scene transformed dramatically. The mountain revealed itself in glimpses, teases of what was to come. Then, perfect light—so breathtaking that you could hear other photographers gasp as we all watched together. The light reflected in the ocean, light shifting to dark as a massive snowstorm rolled in, followed by sunset and fog. And then, as if the day hadn’t already delivered more than I could have hoped for, the sky erupted in northern lights—so vivid it’s still hard to believe.

Fourteen hours of changing light, and yet my favorite moment might still be that first shot—the fleeting glimpse that hinted at what was to come.

I’ll return to Vestrahorn. I don’t know when, but I will see it again. Perhaps in summer, under an entirely different light. But it will be hard to top January 28, 2025—the day Vestrahorn gave me everything.

tr/trp