Iceland review - 2013, Síða 64

62 ICELAND REVIEW
One Saturday morning, still in my bed in
Skriðuklaustur, I looked around my room. All
week I had worked: this time it was physical
labor instead of the computer stuff I do at home. Still half asleep,
I fantasized about staying in bed or a welcoming cup of coffee
delivered to my room and then lounging about all day. It was
Saturday, after all.
Then I heard the breakfast crew in the kitchen and soon the
splash of bathroom showers. Today our entire group was hiking up
to a waterfall. Like the dawn, I’d better arise.
If you like waterfalls Iceland is the place to be. The action of gla-
ciers and tectonic plates over the course of centuries has made the
country prime property for waterfalls. Coming home that week, at
times I could look out the window to see three waterfalls at once
cascading down the hillside.
Not far away was Hengifoss: at 128 meters (419 feet), it is the
second tallest waterfall in Iceland. The Hengifoss trail is 2.5 kilo-
meters (1.5 miles) of footworn path up a hillside, often very near
the cliff edge, but a favorite of hikers.
The younger folks in our group (that’s everyone but me) sped
up the trail like rockets. Already tired from the previous week, I
soon found myself walking slowly in last place. When I looked up,
everyone else was so far away they were miniatures. Dear god,
did I feel old.
In circumstances like these, it’s outright stupid to try and catch
up with people already well beyond where I stood. So I just kept
walking. Since my head was down looking at the path anyway, I
started looking a little further afield.
Beneath my feet, just over there on the left and the right, were
small beautiful things. Tiny cream colored blossoms I recognized
from my time in Austria—edelweiss—bloomed next to the path.
Arctic vegetation in many shades of green and gold grew small
colorful flowers as it ran riot over the hillside.
Turning around, I could see the dazzling landscape of the
Lagarfljót Lake along the Fljótsdalur valley. They say a monster
lives in the lake—a relative, supposedly, of Scotland’s Loch Ness.
Today no sign of Lagarfljótsormurinn’s serpent humps disturbing the
placid surface of the lake.
Halfway to the top, I stopped as Litlanesfoss came into view.
Smaller than Hengifoss above it, Litlanesfoss is spectacular for the
basalt rocks surrounding the actual falls. While the falls on its own
are beautiful, the basalt rock around it cooled in prehistoric times
into distinct vertical columns.
I secured my camera around my wrist and crawled to the edge of
the cliff. There I aimed into the ravine, snapping photos of moving
water as it splashed over and beyond the green moss of the rocks
below.
Soon I began climbing again. Funny, it seemed everyone now was
a bit larger than when I looked before. They were taking photos, but
they were also running low on energy and slowing down. I recalled
the proverb: ‘Old age and treachery will overcome youth and skill.’
Perhaps it’s true. Maybe everyone, including me, would arrive on
the same day.
Hengifoss loomed ahead. The waterfall is dazzling, but the runoff
below has to be crossed if you want to reach as far as the actual falls.
I decided just to sit and observe it with dry feet.
Uniquely, Hengifoss is surrounded by rock formations which
make it worth the trip up the mountainside. Dark grey basalt stone
alternates with horizontal strips of bright red clay, layer-cake fashion.
This affords more contrast to the rushing white water cascading
down to the ground below. For a long while I sat there taking it all
in: the crash of falling water, the beauty of the rock cliff, the fact that
I was here just like anyone else on the same day I started out.
Hey, I made it to the top! I signed the visitor’s log at the bottom
of the falls and stamped the waterfall’s name on my notebook. This
was something to write home about—and best of all, the trip back
was all downhill.
Everyone else, sooner or later, had slowed down to rest and catch
their breath again before we all returned to the valley below. I
wanted to see more of Iceland, and at Hengifoss I could think of no
better way to begin. 
Deb Smith recollects a hike to Hengifoss while working
as a volunteer at Skriðuklaustur, East Iceland.
PHOTO ON OPPOSITE PAGE BY PÁll STEfÁnSSon
Waterfall rush
hengifoss by an unknown photographer.
the photo appeared on a postcard in 1917.