Iceland has been on my list of places to photograph for many years, but the idea of coming here had gained momentum after I discovered a passion for capturing people in otherworldly locations. Iceland is a place where movies are filmed to ensure the audience is transported to another world so it should surely work for me as well? I’ve been incredibly fortunate to be able to visit some remarkable places in the past few months and to be honest I thought I was done with my trips for this year but the network effect of having creative friends found me booking tickets to Iceland the month before.

I was holding my phone when a WhatsApp notification appeared on the screen from Elena. “We’re downstairs!” It was a dark and rainy morning in London, a perfect way to leave for a warmer island. I got in the front next to the driver and simultaneously greeted Mark and Elena behind me, whilst also apologising for the early start. Our final moments in the UK were spent in Gatwick airport sharing a homemade cheesecake that Elena had brought. A nice symbolic gesture, but also an indication of how we were all going to enjoy spending time together. Afterall, you can do anything with people that you have shared a cheesecake with before 6 am in the morning.

I was already awake when my alarm went off but it startled me all the same. I’d been awake for a while now, sleep had been elusive since coming to California as I take ages to acclimatise, but this morning was special and my brain had been busy imagining the day ahead. It was 5 am and my body still ached from being in the car for the last two days as we drove from the Bay Area to Death Valley.

My camera bag was at the foot of the bed along with my clothes ready for me to quickly get going. In the room next to mine I could hear the faint movements of life from my neighbour and shooting partner; Sirena. We’d briefly met the night before after she too had driven from San Francisco. She had greeted me in the lobby of the hotel with a massive smile and an enthusiastic hug, any signs of being on the road for eight hours had evaporated.

I arrived at Gran Canaria airport late on Saturday afternoon on a flight from London. It was March 2nd and I had left behind a British winter that seemed to never run out of rain so the heat of this Spanish island was a welcome respite. Somewhere in the arrivals hall was Cristina, my model and traveling companion for the next week, who had also just arrived from Rome.

We had been chatting about this trip for the past two months but had never met before. We shared selfies via WhatsApp so as to be easier to identify in the busy airport. Cristina was born in the Ukraine, but has lived in Italy for the past nine years and to my untrained ear sounded more Italian.