One photo per day. No skipping days. The photo is usually taken that day, but not always – today it was processed.

I developed a few rolls of film I shot this week. I had space for one more in the container, so I grabbed one from the pile of found film — rolls I discovered while cataloging the cameras a few months back. This was a C-41 black-and-white roll. No idea what was on it, I only knew it was mine, some belongings to people who donated cameras.

Turns out it’s from 2021. This frame 5A was taken exactly five years ago today, May 22, 2021, during my trip to Iceland. The rest of the roll over the week-long trip. I have no memory of taking a film camera on that trip. I’m not even sure what camera these were taken with – my guess would be a Canon AE-1. I must have opened the camera and exposed the roll before it was done.

I only have 10 frames, then I ruined the negatives. Judging by the frame numbers and my memory of the trip, frame 5A was taken after midnight – 20 hours of daylight this time of year. I camped at that spot after my hike to the plane frames 3A and 4A. I have a color version of the waterfall taken with the Nikon hanging in my living room, called Skógafoss at Midnight. This might be my favorite photo I have taken of Skógafoss. I think I will print it tomorrow.

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I don’t print for myself often enough—I should, but I don’t. Yesterday, I made the time. Dug out my favorite fine art paper, Hahnemühle Photo Rag Baryta, and ran some high-end prints. The texture of this paper is something else—not just a print, but a piece of art itself.

I’ve had a box of it sitting for years, waiting for the right subject and time. Vestahorn Mountain in Iceland was it. Spent a full day there in January, watching the light shift 20 times over 12 hours. Picked my favorites, printed them, and made a book calling it ‘Vestrahorn in a Day of Light.’ Love how it turned out. Need to do this more. Just need to find the next subject that deserves it.

Made a quick video of the process (inspired by one I saw by photographer Glyn Dewis)—because watching an image come to life on paper never gets old.

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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.

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Back to Iceland in photos from the morning of day one. The drive from Reykjavik to Vik. I started in the dark and watched the light slowly come up, creating incredible colors and textures.

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I try to convince myself not to stop whenever I see Icelandic Horses. I pass more than I don’t; this trip, I did stop more than on past trips. This group was the best. Hanging on the side of the road, waiting for passersby. They were curious, came to greet me, and posed like a boy band. I had a few minutes with them before others started to show up, too. They remind me of my dogs. I always thank them. They truly seemed to enjoy their session.

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