Witnessing a Volcanic Eruption in Iceland - Sundhnúkur 2025

Introduction: Chasing Fire

Ever since my first visit to Iceland, I’ve been fascinated by its varied landscapes - towering waterfalls, dramatic coasts with unusual rock formations, and vast moss-covered lava fields. With each trip, I discovered something new: a hidden waterfall, a dramatic viewpoint, the way seasons transformed familiar places into entirely different worlds.

But one experience still eluded me: witnessing in real time a force that continues to shape Iceland’s landscapes - an erupting volcano.

This fifth journey was planned with that singular purpose, days after volcanic activity began on the Reykjanes Peninsula. The dynamics of these events are highly unpredictable - some eruptions last only a few days while others continue for months. I was fully prepared to land in Iceland and learn that the activity had ended.

The Journey

A wave of excitement washed over me as I boarded the flight late Friday evening - taking off without knowing exactly what awaited on the other side. Having been to the area before and followed previous eruptions on Reykjanes, I knew the hike to the crater would be challenging, with Iceland’s rugged terrain and unpredictable weather.

After only a few hours of sleep - or as close to sleep as an airplane seat allows - we landed in Iceland. We picked up our car and headed straight to the volcano, ready to improvise the rest of the day from there. Within minutes on the road towards Grindavík, we could see a plume of smoke rising above an old lava field - a clear sign that the eruption was still alive. Suddenly it all felt real.

The rocky trail wound through old lava fields, now covered by moss and other vegetation. As we drew closer though, newer fields came into view - deep black, jagged rock stretching towards the horizon. These remnants of past eruptions, including the very recent ones, were a stark reminder of the area’s ever-changing and unstable nature.

With each step bringing us closer to the heart of the eruption, my anticipation grew. Finally, nearly 5 kilometres into the walk - over rocks, mud, and into the wind - we saw it. Across a vast field of hardened black lava rose the crater, with red-hot liquid splashing inside it like a cauldron, and a column of volcanic gases rising from within.

The Eruption

We climbed a nearby hill for a better view. The sight was awe-inspiring. I had seen countless images of eruptions by now, even of this very one just days earlier, but nothing compared to witnessing it with my own eyes. The wind howled, but in calmer moments you could hear the rhythmic splashing of lava inside the crater - like waves hitting coastal rocks. The brilliant orange and red glow of the lava contrasted sharply against the dark volcanic landscape.

Take a piece of Iceland home - view prints here

This crater was about 2 kilometres from our vantage point - clearly visible, yet still at a relatively safe distance. The hard black rock between us made it look approachable, but this recently solidified crust was fragile - red molten rock was still cooling underneath, making it dangerous to walk on.

I launched my drone, a DJI Mavic 3 Pro, and flew it toward the crater, keeping high enough to avoid the intense heat and low enough to stay clear of any manned aircraft overhead. The above shot was captured with the drone's 3x zoom, equivalent to a 70mm full-frame lens.

Standing there, I was struck by the eruption's sheer power - how it was actively reshaping the landscape before us, and the astonishing fact that the liquid flowing across the field and splashing in the crater was molten rock, something we normally encounter in solid form. At temperatures of over 1,000 degrees, it radiated intense heat, which we could feel as we approached the edge of the black lava field.

The winds were strong, the weather constantly shifting, and grey clouds gathered above the crater and desolate field. With my camera drone hovering between me and the active crater, I captured the below image of the entire scene. A desolate landscape seemingly scorched by fire, yet alive and dynamic, with new earth forming right before our eyes.

Down on the lava field, glowing orange-red cracks appeared in the rock, constantly shifting as lava poured from the crater and spread across the vast expanse towards us. To the left, a river of lava split from the main flow, tearing through the hardened black crust. Fragments of rock were breaking free and drifting downstream, carried effortlessly by the glowing current.

We made it out to the volcano three times during this visit to Iceland - the first two on foot, and the last by super jeep. By then the weather had turned miserable, and the trail had deteriorated in heavy rain, but the ride cut the journey to about a quarter of the time.

Each time we returned, the scene had changed: crater activity rising and falling, lava flow patterns transformed, and the character of the landscape shifted with different weather and light. On the second day, we watched part of the crater wall collapse, unleashing a fresh lava flow that spilled over it and into the field below.

The Hazards (Reality Check)

During that second hike, about a kilometre in, I suddenly began coughing. Water did nothing to ease it. Realizing the wind was blowing from the crater towards us, and recalling a warning I'd seen on the Icelandic Meteorological Office website - I knew the culprit had to be sulphur dioxide (SO₂). Even at low concentrations, this volcanic gas irritates the throat and lungs, which is why staying upwind of the plume is always advised. Knowing the levels we were encountering were unlikely to cause lasting harm, we pushed on into clearer air.

Bring this landscape home - view prints here

The winds were fierce, and I was grateful for the stability of the larger DJI Mavic drone, which I knew could withstand the gusts. Even so, the grey clouds and threat of rain kept me on edge. By now, having spent some time out here, I had a better sense of the eruption's rhythm and felt more confident flying closer to the crater - still mindful of the heat, gases, and the risk of not making it back quickly enough if the weather worsened. The battery drained much faster than on previous flights as the machine fought against headwinds.

The crater was still very much alive, bursting with lava that I was able to freeze in time with a fast exposure, its glow contrasting sharply against the black crater walls and surrounding lava field. The stark expanse of rock already hardened over past days had been awakened by the fresh flow, laced with glowing fissures that revealed the intense heat still living beneath. From an adjacent vent within the same crater - fully active just days earlier - volcanic gases still rose into the sky. This scene captured both the eruption's raw power and the landscape's gradual, unstoppable transformation.

A Chapter in Iceland's Volcanic Saga

What we witnessed was just one chapter in Iceland's long history of volcanic activity. Positioned along the Mid-Atlantic Ridge, where the North American and Eurasian tectonic plates meet, Iceland's eruptions have shaped its landscapes for millennia - and will continue to do so. This was almost certainly not the last eruption on Reykjanes Peninsula, and I hope to return one day to witness another.

The 2025 eruption at the Sundhnúksgígar crater row began on July 10 and ended on August 6, just days after we returned home. I felt incredibly fortunate to have finally seen this remarkable natural phenomenon in person - and to have captured it to share with you.

I shot the final image on my Nikon Z7ii during our last visit to the eruption site at Suðurnúkur. Fierce wind and torrential rain swept across the lava field, suppressing much of the crater’s smoke, with storm-darkened skies amplifying the fiery contrast of the lava.

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