What is Jim doing?: Iceland 2026

My hunt for arctic fox began in early 2024 when Nick (my adult son) and I were part of a small group of photographers driving Iceland’s Ring Road. During that tour our guide talked often of seeing arctic fox. Nick became obsessed. Alas, none were to be found that trip. In the intervening two years we talked often of returning with the rest of the family to Iceland to photograph arctic fox. At the urging of my daughter, Helen, I started planning a family trip to Iceland. As a professional geographer she had keen interest in the natural history of Iceland. And key among those interests were wildlife, the most important of which were puffins and the one mammal that is native to Iceland, the arctic fox.

On our second full day in Iceland, we were staying in the Hellnar area on the Snæfells Peninsula. Earlier in the day our family group had stopped at the gestastofa (visitor center) at Malarrif, centered within the Snæfellsjökull National Park, to learn about the geography and geology of the area. Walking into the visitor center I noticed a sign just outside the entrance which admonished people to not feed arctic foxes. When I asked the ranger at the desk about the sign she stated there was an arctic fox in the area who could be seen frequently in the vicinity of the Visitor Center. She stated that early mornings were best but that the fox had been seen at other times during the day.

We spent the day visiting several scenic locations around the Snæfells Peninsula. By late afternoon Nick and Helen were talking about re-visiting the Malarrif visitor center in hopes of sighting the arctic fox. I was skeptical and told them so. The odds of seeing such a wild creature in a parking lot of all places, and in the middle of the night just didn’t seem, contrary to the ranger’s comments, highly probable to me. In the end further conversation convinced me to give it a try so following dinner and a short nap we were on the road to Malarrif. Although they were very excited about the prospects of seeing the fox (me; not so much), they were at the same time trying to dial back those expectations given my pessimism.

Malarrif Light was just a few miles from our hotel, and we pulled into an empty parking lot at the visitor center. Helen was armed with a Nikon Z6 with a 24-120mm lens while Nick was loaded with a Nikon Z8 and a 70-200mm lens. As usual I carried my Leica M10R onto which a 50mm lens was affixed. As we were standing in the lot, enjoying the extended golden hour lighting on a beautiful late evening (2200 or so) we discussed the game plan. Helen elected to walk a hundred yards or so into the grasses as she believed the fox was (1) probably denning somewhere in that area and (2) it was a better location for the fox to find small critters to chow on. It sounded like a good idea, and she walked into the field. Nick walked along the small access road to the left of where Helen was going while I remained in the parking lot.

A few minutes later I spied Helen in the field, facing me, her arms waving frantically over her head. She was pointing off to her right as she had clearly spotted something. I called to Nick and as we looked to where she was pointing, I saw a small white mammal coming my way. Had Helen found an arctic fox? It was too far away for my 50mm lens, so I watched as it came closer. At first, I thought it a lamb. As it got closer, I realized it was too small to be a lamb. By then Helen and Nick had cameras to their faces and were busy clicking away. It was at that point I realized that the creature Helen had spotted and that was trotting my way was an arctic fox! I couldn’t believe it. I remember thinking the gait of the fox was unusual as it seemed to be bounding. It also appeared to be a scene directly out of Monty Python as the fox bounding directly towards me didn’t seem to be getting any closer. Lots of movement, not much closing distance. Before I knew it, the arctic fox, in transition from winter to summer coat, walked towards me out of the grasses. At that point I could see it clearly, raised my camera and began shooting images. Helen and Nick had also moved closer and were busy taking photographs. Three cameras were aimed at the fox, and the sound of multiple shutter activations was music to my ears.

The fox walked across the small access road, walked up to the door of the visitor center, then began a slow circumnavigation of the parking lot. I don’t recall it ever looking at any of us. Clearly it felt no threat.

At some point while it walked a large loop around me, I became quite emotional. The idea of seeing an arctic fox had been discussed at length for nearly two years and it was on the bucket list for this trip. I knew how much they both wanted to see this animal. To have that event materialize right in front of us, in this parking lot, on this midnight sun evening, with no one else around for miles, was too much for me. Tears began streaming down my face and I laughed out loud as I watched the fox and Helen and Nick as they photographed it. I was so happy for them.

In due course the fox completed his circumnavigation of the visitor center and parking lot and trotted back into the field in the direction from which it appeared. As we kept snapping pictures, we unconsciously closed ranks nearer the van. A few moments later the fox was out of view and as we lowered our cameras, we looked at each other. A moment of silence, then we erupted in excited conversation about what had just occurred. Our faces were buried in each other’s camera’s LCD, and we couldn’t believe what we were seeing in those images. The laughter and the excitement were palpable. And while Helen and Nick congratulated themselves on the well-planned expedition, I silently repeated my oft used Dad-ism, “better lucky than good!”

The Malarrif Gestastofa at Snæfellsjökull National Park