Gígjagjá, the cave in Hjörleifshöfði

Twelve kilometres east of Vík, Hjörleifshöfði rises out of the black desert of Mýrdalssandur like an island left behind by the sea, which is exactly what it is. Low on its western flank a cave called Gígjagjá opens in the rock; from inside, the opening frames the plain in a shape people recognise from a film and now call the Yoda Cave. The floor is soft black sand, the walls are ribbed brown rock, and the outside world appears as one bright cut-out shape.

The picture is a silhouette-or-not decision. Expose for the couple and the opening burns out into pure white; expose for the plain and they go to a clean black shape inside the hood. Both are good, and the second is the one people ask for. Light comes in from the west, so late afternoon and evening push it deepest into the cave — in June that means a session at ten or eleven at night, in December a narrow window in the early afternoon before the light goes.

Getting there is the part to plan. A gravel track leaves Route 1 and runs a few kilometres across the sand to a small parking area, then a short walk over loose black sand and a slope to the cave mouth. The track is passable for normal cars in summer but it is sand and it drifts; after storms or in winter conditions it can be a bad idea in a two-wheel-drive car, and this coast closes roads for wind more often than most visitors expect. Check road conditions the morning of the shoot.

The cave is a natural, unmanaged place: no rails, no lighting, loose rock at the edges, and a floor that is easy to walk but soaks shoes. Nothing about it is dangerous if you stay off the steep sides and keep out from under the overhang's crumbling lip. There is no shelter on the walk in, and the wind across Mýrdalssandur carries sand — bring a bag that closes for the gear and a jacket you do not mind sandblasting.