Behind The Photo Iceland Glymur Waterfall
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SkyHigh Showers
Through rushing water, up rocky mountainsides, and teetering on the edge of crumbling cliffs all to get the shot.
It was hard to choose just one picture among the many awe-inspiring locations Iceland is famous for; however, this one in particular stands above the rest thanks to the gravity-defying journey it took to get there. While this may not be the incredible grandiose setting that first comes to mind when thinking about Iceland, sometimes the old cliché really is true. The journey is better than the destination.
In the early hours of a late summer morning, I arrive at the Glymur parking lot. Being my last day in Iceland on a long, exhausting, yet equally rewarding trip around the island. I was looking forward to seeing what my final adventure here has to offer.
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Due to the early hour, I was luckily the only car in the parking lot, and as I got out, I was greeted by a beautifully lush rolling valley. Steep plateaus on either side show this area is one of many carved and altered by Iceland’s ever-changing environment.
I grab my camera and head off on the trail to the falls. Just starting off, the trail is a simple and flat path passing through tamed brush and lowly trees far from fully grown. Looking through the thick brush, I see something that catches my eye. Tiny scattered pockets of wildflowers just beyond the trail. Their vibrant yellow and purple plumes stand out among the more subdued surroundings.
After walking for a mile or so, the path splits, one direction leading out onto a large rock overlook, treating me to the first glimpse of the falls. This natural viewpoint provides a perfect view of the entire scene. The towering waterfall tucked inside a green equally impressive gorge. As well as the resulting river running towards me and bending just around the overlook approximately 30 feet below.
While the other path takes a pleasantly surprising turn, following the river upstream, the trail leads into a hollowed-out rock formation. With loose gravel lining the floor, I cautiously step through this makeshift tunnel, feeling the walls smoothly carved from wind or high river currents long ago until I emerge from the tunnel at the banks of the gentle river.
Seemingly the perfect opportunity, I grab my bottle and head to the water. Crystal clear water fills my bottle, so clear and pure it is as if I had just bought filtered water from a store.
Continuing along the river, I come to the next point of interest, the river crossing. Weathered stones piled on both sides firmly cut into the current, funneling the water under a single thin log bridging across.
I make my way to the banks over the slick, uneven rock piles and onto the log, ready to cross. The first thing I notice was how the gentle rapids just downstream have now been transformed into a rushing rapid. I carefully make my way across the log mere inches above the river as ice-cold water splashes up onto my legs and the already slippery surface, reminding me how much I don’t want to fall in. Thankfully, I’m able to make it across without trouble, and continue towards the falls.
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Although the trail along the gorge is predominantly uphill, it wasn’t until I turned around that I realized just how far I had traveled.
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Leaving the extensive and memorable view behind, I continue up the mountain, determined to reach the falls. I only get a few feet when I reach one of the main reasons that transform this spot into something truly special.
Jutting out from the cliffside, a precariously perched lookout point just begging to be explored. Too tantalizing to resist, I make my way out onto the natural platform, and I’m instantly rewarded with a view that will last a lifetime.
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Immediately, I’m met with a fierce wind threatening to blow me straight off the rock face. Now off balance, I keep daring closer and closer to the precipice. Pieces of stone begin to fall away, giving another warning that I have ventured far enough. However, it’s too late to heed the environmental cautions. I made it this far; I must get the view I came for.
Peering over the edge straight down hundreds of feet with the relentless wind howling in my ears, surprisingly, doesn’t bring fear or nervous anxiousness but quite the opposite. I close my eyes and feel the environment around me. The power of the wind, the roar of the falls echoing down the gorge, the crumbling of rocks beneath my feet, even the smell of fresh, untampered Icelandic air, all coming together to create something undeniably one of a kind.
There’s a certain sense of serene calmness that only a closeness with death can provide, but here, in this instance, with these circumstances, the experience is elevated in a way I’ve never felt before. Even though I am just a slight step or a single strong gust of wind away from plummeting to the end, I have a feeling of freedom. A feeling that this moment, in this exact spot, is the only thing in the world that matters.
A strong gust snaps me out of my trance and back to reality. I set down my bag and grab my camera. It takes many painstaking attempts to capture the photo due to the relentless push of the winds shaking myself and the camera about. Finally satisfied with a shot, I gather my things and once again head up the mountain towards the mouth of the falls.
With every step closer to my destination, the landscape transforms. The rough rocky trail begins to soften as the ground morphs into a grassy dirt path. The steep up-and-down nature of the hike starts to level off, shifting into more of a plateau. Most notably, the powerful sound of water that was once an afterthought is now unmistakably intense.
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I sit and again close my eyes and listen to the thousands of gallons per second reach the cliff’s edge, then take the plunge to the ground waiting 650 feet below.
Up here at the summit, the tone seems to shift. What sounded like the ultimate force of nature echoing throughout the gorge, now at the top, sounds like a peaceful stream floating through the country without a care in the world.
Seeing this abrupt change seems like a microcosm for the rest of Iceland’s constantly changing environment. Stark, harshly colored landscapes clash with flourishing, vibrant plant life. Calm and pleasant surroundings suddenly turn unforgivingly violent, then continue peacefully as if nothing had happened. Monstrous formations reach into the clouds, coupled with areas dripping in the finest of detail.
Remembering why I came, I open my eyes and snap off a few more pictures (which were much easier without the forceful wind blowing me around) and start to explore the top of the falls.
Most waterfalls in Iceland follow a confined rushing rapid without much area above to walk around and explore, but Glymur, on the other hand, is quite the exception.
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While walking around, I quickly noticed a series of rocks sprinkled within the river. Flat rocks just peeking above the water create what looks to be a path to the other side of the river, where a large overlook sits directly behind the falls. Looking like the perfect picture opportunity, I attempt to make my way across.
I jump from rock to rock, careful not to slip on the soaked stones. About fifteen jumps in I come to a standstill. My hop along makeshift path comes petering to a halt thirty feet short of the other side.
Well, I’ve built up a bit of a sweat from climbing the steep mountainside, even in this crisp air, I could use the chilled waters to cool off. I take one step into the shin-deep waters; so far so good. Another step, and it hits me. The bone-chilling glacier water shoots waves throughout me, turning my overheated body frigid in a matter of seconds.
The sensation of tiny pins poking my feet and legs becomes increasingly overwhelming. As badly as I want to take in one of the tallest waterfalls in Iceland from a new, exciting perspective, the slightly above-freezing water just doesn’t seem worth it, especially without knowing if the river gets any deeper.
Wisely, I turn around, getting out of the water as quickly as I can. I take one last look around the vast open fields and the waters of the Botnsa River, throwing itself off the edge of the abyss. Then begin my long trip back down the mountain.
I must have been up there longer than I thought because my early morning secluded spot has turned into a popular mid-day attraction. I can see a number of cars pulling into the parking lot and a few small groups of people scattered about the gorge.
There’s one couple attempting to make their way out onto the lookout point I had dared to explore just a couple of hours earlier. They ease their way to the ledge, the wind still as heavy as I remember. Already looking unsteady, a large gust blows them backward while stealing a wool hat from one of their heads. The hat lightly flutters to the floor far below, telling them that maybe retreating to safer ground would be a smarter idea.
As I make my way past the steep inclines and declines of the mountain, past the single log river crossing, past the smooth carved out tunnel, and past the thick, prosperous brush, I can’t help but think how rare and wonderful places like this are.
With the world rapidly expanding, people crammed into city streets, new buildings taking over once peaceful landscapes, it is a welcome change of pace to see a place immune to those changes. A place where greatly different environments clash to create something in perfect balance. A place full of twists and turns for you to explore. A place natural and free from human interference.
A place that can only be found in Iceland.
Glymur Waterfall
Thank you for an unforgettable experience
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