Jacob Cook PhotographyPhoto essays from the margins of the map by Jacob Cook, a Montréal-based travel photographer drawn to off-season coastlines, small towns and wild weather.2026-11-12T00:00:00.000Zhttps://jacobcook.photo/Jacob Cookhello@jacobcook.photoBenches Worth Remembering2026-11-12T00:00:00.000Zhttps://jacobcook.photo/fieldnotes/benches-worth-remembering/Unless you're in a plain city park, there's typically something pretty cool to see right in front of wherever someone's decided to place a bench. Rather than focus exclusively on the subject, I like to see empty benches as a kind of still-life reminder; that someone liked this spot enough to give it a place of comfort, and to share it with others.
This is a growing collection of benches that have stayed with me, each one marking a moment worth remembering.
Guglionesi, Molise, ItalyApple iPhone 14 ProiPhone 14 Pro back triple camera 6.86mm f/1.786.86mmƒ/1.781/2732sISO 64
On a family trip, where we were desperate for a break, I ran into these two, locked in a battle for longevity. I'm not sure which of them is more stubborn.
Grundarfjörður, IcelandCanon EOS R6RF35mm F1.8 MACRO IS STM35mmƒ/4.001/160sISO 100
At the quiet fishing port of Grundarfjörður, this bench offers a break with a decent view of Kirkjufell, the most photographed peak in Iceland. This is my humble addition to the collection.
Trøllanes, Faroe IslandsCanon EOS R6RF24-105mm F4 L IS USM24mmƒ/4.001/8000sISO 3200
The loneliest bench of the collection. The next land mass in this direction is Svalbard, a good 2000 km away.
This is a field note—an ongoing collection that exists independently of specific journeys. The benches shown here were photographed during various trips between 2021—2025.
]]>Pause here, look at this, take your time.Kalsoy is Truly the Edge of the World2025-11-11T00:00:00.000Zhttps://jacobcook.photo/journeys/kalsoy-edge-world/The weather in the Faroe Islands is anything but predictable, especially in November. I tracked the government weather office website every day for three weeks prior to the trip, like it was part of my usual social media feed, to the point where I started recognizing the Faroese words for "wind" and "clouds" and "stay away, it's clearly gross and rainy".
Two or three days out, I could tell that the first day of the trip was likely to have the best weather, so I seized on this opportunity to plan and book an excursion to the northern islands. There's a well-known hike here to a lighthouse with incredible views, so I wanted to make sure the weather was good for this visit. Turns out to have been one of the best decisions of my life.
The days are quite short in the Faroes in November, so heading out before sunrise isn't quite as impressive as it sounds. But given the jetlag I was fighting, it felt like an achievement. In a quiet parking lot in Tórshavn, I loaded my equipment into the car in about 2°C, as most people were groggily arriving at their downtown jobs. I felt nervous to take my first adventure in this new and unfamiliar place.
Approaching Hvannasund, Viðoy
I headed for the 10 a.m. ferry that departed from Klaksvík, the Faroes' second-largest "city", with the idea that I'd cram in a visit to another beautiful northern island first. The first of many one-lane tunnels led to Viðoy, the northernmost of the islands. A breathtaking view over the first small town of the trip, each one anchored to a church and some dramatic cliffs. Heavy clouds hung over the mountains, yet to be burned off by the sun, which still sat low in the sky — just about 9 a.m. at this point.
My first time getting out of the car, I slung my camera over my shoulder and grabbed my drone pack in a manoeuvre that would quickly become routine. The musty sea breeze was even stronger here than back in Tórshavn, and the mist pelted my face, but I didn't care. This is exactly what I came here for.
I was the only one here, an experience that would persist throughout most of the trip. Climbing down the path towards the sea, next to the village church, I found a good spot for drone piloting so I could capture mist running off the cliffs and the mountain looming over town.
Viðareiði, ViðoyCanon EOS R6RF24-105mm F4 L IS USM24mmƒ/4.001/320sISO 3200
I packed up quickly and headed back to Klaksvík — I had a ferry to catch, and the next one wasn't for five and a half hours. A quick stop at the local grocery store to grab some lunch for my upcoming hike, and I got in line with the six or seven other cars making their morning commute to the island.
Aboard the ferry to KalsoyApple iPhone 17 ProiPhone 17 Pro back triple camera 6.765mm f/1.786.76mmƒ/1.781/741sISO 64
After unloading, I quickly drove up to the northernmost point of the island, through narrow one-lane tunnels and incredible cliffside views, to a village called Trøllanes. At this point the sun was about as high in the sky as it was going to get, and I was ready for my first hike of the trip.
As I climbed the muddy tracks toward Kallur Lighthouse, I looked back at the town. Its few dozen residents must feel like they are permanently clinging onto the side of the mountain to keep from falling into the sea. Or maybe it's the namesake trolls that are putting in the work to hold the town in place, who knows.
I was rewarded with damp ground for hiking but a beautifully clear sky, indeed the best weather of the whole trip. It was a slow trudge through mud and grass, and the constant need to dodge sheep droppings was an unwelcome experience. Luckily I had some hiking poles with me to help stabilize and avoid the worst of the mud. But what I was about to see would make it all worth it.
Borgarin, KalsoyCanon EOS R6RF24-105mm F4 L IS USM24mmƒ/4.001/2500sISO 3200
The mountain Borgarin showed its face, and I spent my time taking a couple dozen shots of it jutting out of the fog, each one more spectacular than the last. Wallpaper material.
I was still completely alone in one of the most spectacular places on the planet, and I could hardly believe it. I had to work hard to keep my footing and not slip, as I was about two big steps from a sheer drop into the sea no less than 200 metres high.
Borgarin, KalsoyCanon EOS R6RF24-105mm F4 L IS USM33mmƒ/4.001/8000sISO 3200
In the shadow of Borgarin is a lighthouse called Kallur. I ran into a couple of other tourists here; we didn't need to speak the same language, as our gobsmacked expressions told exactly how we felt in that moment.
The other tourists left after I helped them take some photos. I'd run into them again on the return ferry, but for now I was completely alone. I continued to shoot Borgarin and the lighthouse as fog drifted amongst them, to create even more interesting angles of light and obscurity, then proceeded to roam the site and take another couple hundred photos. I will likely be posting different angles and takes of this spot for years to come.
Kallur, KalsoyCanon EOS R6RF24-105mm F4 L IS USM24mmƒ/4.001/6400sISO 3200
I found a dry spot to sit and ponder life for a while, and have a quick bite to eat. Seagulls and all manner of seabirds were swirling around the cliffs below as the waves thundered against the rocks. The temptation was strong to find an excuse to try and stay here forever. But I decided to practice gratitude in the moment, happy to just have been able to experience this once, and to commit it well to memory in case I'm never able to return.
Coming back down off the hike, I loaded myself and my gear into the car again and, careful to not get mud everywhere (impossible task), drove back halfway down the island to its largest settlement, Mikladalur.
The breaks in the clouds that blessed me at Kallur were a distant memory now, the weather being completely different on this side of the Djúpidalur ridge. I made my way down some exceedingly slippery steps, dropping down the side of the cliffs below town, on my way to meet a local legend.
Kópakonan - The Seal WomanCanon EOS R6RF24-105mm F4 L IS USM24mmƒ/4.001/3200sISO 3200
The Seal Woman continues to stand guard along the coast, enforcing a tragic and complex curse on the residents of Mikladalur. Perhaps it was no coincidence that I saw not a single person in town that day?
I flew my drone around for a bit and enjoyed the last half of my lunch before it was nearly time for me to catch my return ferry to Klaksvík.
Cliffs at Mikladalur, KalsoyDJI FC730320.7 mm4.49mmƒ/2.801/50sISO 100
The little ferry ride is only about 20 minutes from Kalsoy back to Klaksvík, but it was enough time to kill most of the already sparse light that remained. I sped off the ferry dock to scale a hill outside of town, as I wanted to get just one more drone flight in and capture an incredible view of Klaksvík harbour as it said goodbye to the day.
Feeling like I'd just finished a grand adventure, I peeled off my wet hiking gear and enjoyed a nice steak dinner in Klaksvík before taking the (long) drive back to Tórshavn. While this may have been the most striking and atmospheric day of the trip, the Faroes weren't yet finished with challenging me for amazing photos.
]]>On the first day, I encountered one of those otherworldly places that you remember for the rest of your life.Prelude: Oslo2025-11-10T00:00:00.000Zhttps://jacobcook.photo/journeys/faroes-prelude-oslo/Travelling to a Nordic country in November means your low-light photography skills need to be on point. Shooting at night isn't my specialty, but with only a 24-hour layover in a completely new city (and country) to me, I wasn't about to miss my chance to take a few photo walks.
I had arrived at Gardermoen around midday, fresh from a quick Swiss flight from Zürich, and stale from a longer one from Montréal. After a critically important nap, I bundled up to discover what there was to see.
The architecture is spectacular, as I had expected. It was 18:30 and already pitch black, but it was a Saturday night, so local couples and groups of teenagers were milling about, all around and on top of the stunning Opera House. There is ample lighting integrated into the building but no lamp posts, so despite the groups of people around it was dead silent, and seemed like we were all intruding on the building's privacy.
I grabbed a bite to eat in Aker Brygge, and given the smooth glass facades, integrated benches and boats tucked in every which way, it's easy to understand why the city is reputed to be so expensive. It reminded me a lot of my native Seattle, along with the late-season humid cold that pierces your bones in a way that makes even Montréal feel balmy.
Akershus FortressApple iPhone 17 ProiPhone 17 Pro back triple camera 6.765mm f/1.786.76mmƒ/1.781/9sISO 640
From Akershus Fortress I walked past bars and typical Saturday night activities, people bundled up to their chins. I also weaved around the royal palace and parliament to get in as many sights as I could, though they weren't particularly photogenic this late at night.
Being a big fan of mulled wine, I was overjoyed to stumble onto the very first night of the local Christmas market, which honestly made the layover worth it on its own. Something about observing families starting to get into the festive spirit made me feel like even more of an outsider here.
I found Norwegians to be good humoured and kind, warm in their own way. After returning to the hotel bar for a nightcap, the bartender encouraged me to try Norway's version of akvavit, which is enjoyed side-by-side with a light beer. I had to Google it afterwards to be sure she wasn't making a joke at my expense, because it was honestly terrible.
Sunday morning in Bjørvika was pretty dead, and the daylight brought a very Norwegian-looking sky. In need of coffee, I grabbed a cappuccino and what was quite possibly the best, most well-balanced donut I've ever had.
After a quick scamper up Ekeberg to see the famous view that inspired Edvard Munch's "The Scream", it was time to head to the airport.
The flight from Oslo was uneventful, and probably about two-thirds empty, but the excitement was truly building at this point. Viking music was playing in my head when I saw the feet of Tindhólmur emerge from under the clouds. In this part of the world, mountains don't always show up peak-first...
]]>Oslo is not off the beaten path, but it set the pace well for a trip to the rugged Faroes next door.
