In the Highlands

Prehistoric trout and char in Iceland's wild interior

by Earl Harper - Tuesday, Jan 8th, 2019

Images: Earl Harper and Chad Shmukler. Words: Chad Shmukler.

The Icelandic Highlands is a wildly diverse, almost entirely uninhabited region that covers the majority of the island nation's interior. Never settled, due to invariably rough terrain and unrelenting, harsh winter conditions, the highlands are the largest undisturbed natural area in all of Europe. Though predominated by expansive desert—where, despite regular precipitation, rain and snow drain so quickly through the region's black, basaltic, volcanic glass sands that vegetation can't take hold—the highlands' bleak expanses of rock and sand are frequently punctuated by Iceland's raw geology, creating some of the most dramatic landscapes found anywhere on earth.

Pocking Iceland's wild interior are enormous glaciers, volcanoes both dormant and active, geothermal hot springs, towering rhyolite peaks, limestone fields and, of course, ancient rivers that paint vibrant green brush strokes on the charcoal landscape and cut dramatic canyons through the volcanic desert.

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A quick on-road pit stop to check tires and make sure rods are securely rigged before descending to ford a river on the outskirts of Vatnajökull National Park (photo: Chad Shmukler).

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Though our destination in the highlands can be reached with relative ease via the southern route from Reykjavík, we embark for the highlands from Iceland's northern coast, after a couple of days spent casting to plump brown trout amidst the verdant greenery that drapes the banks of the Big Laxa River. We head south on the Sprengisandur Route, watching the lush vegetation and farmland of the northern coast disappear after putting little more than 15 minutes of dirt road behind us. Only minutes later, the route ascends sharply and turns into what it will be for the next five jarring hours: a rough, boulder-strewn trail that takes us south through the northern desert, and where we'll encounter only two other souls before reaching the ranger station more than 200 kilometers later (photo: Chad Shmukler).

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The route is accessible only in the summer and only by 4WD vehicles that have the clearance required to ford the multiple rivers along the way. Sprengisandur is an ancient pass and a historically important route between the north coast and southern portions of the island which Icelanders have been traveling for well over 1,000 years. Its name originates from the word "sprengja" which, in Icelandic, means "to exhaust." Long ago, the northern desert was thought to be a bastion of elves, giants and bandits, leading the few travelers who would brave the route to ride their horses to exhaustion for fear of slowing down or stopping.

The Vatnajökull ranger station is the first sign of humanity in hundreds of kilometers. Combined with the moss-covered rocks that line the river we'll ford below, it is an oasis after hours of barren moraine (photo: Chad Shmukler).

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In its upper reaches, not far from its headwaters, the Kaldakvísl River courses almost undetected in the landscape. From Sprengisandur, the eye stretches in every direction, spying only boulder and gravel. In the distance, however, the Kaldakvísl hides in plain sight, sculpting gentle, shallow valleys in the volcanic rock and soil (photo: Earl Harper).

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Trout food. Despite long, severe winter conditions, life abounds in the Kaldakvísl. Summertime awakens a cacophony of bug life which bring the river's brown trout to the surface in search of a meal. Even more important to the Kaldakvísl's trout are year-round residents like the one seen here, the Icelandic stickleback (Gasterosteus islandicus), which are prolific throughout the river (photo: Earl Harper).

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Find a pattern that the Kaldakvísl's ice age trout take for a stickleback and it's likely to produce a connection with a brown trout that won't go forgotten anytime soon (photos: Chad Shmukler).

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As the river descends the highlands, it quickly increases in volume and power, carving deeper into the landscape and producing numerous dramatic waterfalls like Fagrifoss, seen here (photos: Earl Harper).

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Below many of the Kaldakvísl's falls, the river cuts dramatic canyons through igneous rock which often feature deep, glacially-tinged pools (photo: Earl Harper).

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Where one might just find brown trout sipping on mayflies in the pool's placid currents (photo: Chad Shmukler).

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Fording rivers isn't just a requirement on the Sprengisandur route, it's a requirement up and down the Kaldakvísl and virtually everywhere throughout the highlands (photo: Chad Shmukler).

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Farther south on the Kaldakvísl, near where the river dumps into Lake Sporðöldulón, the hillsides begin to glow with more greenery and flows tumble over the waterfall Nefji, one of the most dramatic in all of Iceland (photo: Chad Shmukler).

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Fishing can be good even right below the falls, where moderately sized brown trout and char congregate in the shelter beneath the tumbling waters (photo: Earl Harper).

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More distant from the chaos of the falls, larger trout take up residence and patrol prime water. They are opportunistic feeders, plucking midges, mayflies and caddis from the surface when present or gorging on sticklebacks and nymphs below when not (photos: Earl Harper [top], Chad Shmukler [bottom]).

From its headwaters to its mouth where it debouches into Sporðöldulón, the Kaldakvísl is fished by only a handful of anglers each year, due to its remoteness and the fact that—like virtually of Iceland's rivers—the Kaldakvísl is private. For hundreds of years, the entirety of the river has been owned by a farming cooperative. For generations, anglers hoping to fish its waters needed to seek permission from local farmers. Today, anglers that ply the Kaldakvísl do so through Fish Partner, an independently-owned outfitter out of Reykjavík who holds the exclusive fishing lease on the river.

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Just south of the Kaldakvísl in the highlands is the Tungnaá River. Though the waters of the Tungnaá, like the Kaldakvísl, are surprisingly diverse even over short distances, the Tungnaá has distinct features and a character that is all its own (photo: Earl Harper).

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The Tungnaá's char are particularly plump and shouldered and, even in midsummer, never fail to put on a color show (photos: Earl Harper).

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Even after a lifetime spent musing about one day setting foot on the arctic island, exploring its well known rivers and geologic marvels from afar, it's impossible to prepare oneself for being in Iceland, for experiencing landscapes so extraterrestrial and unique. Hours spent tumbling over rough terrain, scrambling down hillsides, bushwhacking through fields ablaze with lupine, tip-toeing along canyonsides like the one seen here on Tungnaá, and dragging gear through long hike-ins all pay off in incalculable ways (photo: Earl Harper).

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Months later, proofing images is an endless source of bewilderment, even for those of us that were on the ground. It's futile to try to convey Iceland using words, images or even memories (photo: Chad Shmukler).

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Only returning will do (photo: Earl Harper).

Fishing leases on both the Kaldakvísl and Tungnaá rivers are obtained exclusively through Fish Partner.

Photography

Iceland

Brown Trout

Arctic Char

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Comments

Steve D replied on Mon, 01/14/2019 - 13:53 Permalink

Awe

That's all I got. Awe at the place, vistas, and opportunity you all had.

Bob Fornadley replied on Mon, 01/14/2019 - 15:56 Permalink

Icelandic Rivers and scenery

Very, very well written descriptive report introducing me to a place I've often wondered about fishing. Good browns and char and affordable to get to from my city.