by Landry Harlan

Originally published in Go World Travel

Everything was in its right place. Even now almost a year later I can recall the scenes in remarkable detail. I can feel the cool mist caress my face, hear the thunderous roar of water pummeling the earth, and see volcanic landscape unmarred by human touch. Cold. Harsh. Alien. Iceland.
 

A Suburu Legacy would be our steed. Honestly, it was a heap of junk. Faded purple on the outside and an engine backfire to make sure you didn’t doze off. It was only fitting that we rented it from a company called SAD Cars. Yet, it had not failed us. The past few days included trips to the famed Geysir (a “geyser” to us Yankees that hurled boiling water over 200 feet in the air) and the remote Snæfellsnes Lighthouse (bright orange against the melancholic landscape). What was once considered a deathtrap we now trusted wholeheartedly.

Along for the expedition were my travel companions Jenna and two New Zealanders, Vera and Jerry, we happened to be Airbnb’ing with. Gas (petrol, sorry) was expensive so we welcomed fellow travelers/króna (Icelandic currency) sources. After packing the usual excess of layers and balogna sandwiches (we were college students after all) we set off through the haze of early morning Reykjavík.

 

Driving in Iceland is glorious. I’m not just talking about the stunning scenery that causes you to stare out the window mouth agape. Maps are practically unnecessary to get to most landmarks. It doesn’t matter if you are traveling up the west coast, inland, or the southern coast when leaving Reykjavík. You’ll be taking Route 1 (or the “Ring Road”). Route 1 is the national road of Iceland (that’s a thing?) and traverses the entire island. There is even an annual bike race that follows it. If you’re lucky enough to travel during the offseason like us traffic will be minimal as well. Don’t worry; there are places to pull over every few miles for photos. Icelanders know why you’re there.

First stop, Seljalandsfoss. Just stop for a moment and try to say that word. Whatever you blurted out is wrong I assure you. Took me days to even master “Hello” (sæll, {pronounced sight-l.}. Lucky for us English was spoken almost everywhere, but I digress. Seljalandsfoss is a waterfall (you guessed it) about two hours drive from downtown Reykjavík along the south coast. It is impossible to miss and never denies an opportunity for a photo op.

Can a waterfall have a personality? If so, Seljalandsfoss is the playful child. The sun seems brighter in the reflections scattered by its mist. It only feels natural to run toward its plumes and embrace them. Tourists giggle and yank out their iPhones to catch the dance of colors that refract through the spray. Seljalandsfoss giggles and strikes its best “Blue Steel”.
 

We gallivanted around the waterfall and surrounding landscape until midday quickly passed. After agreeing that we had all successfully taken perfect profile pictures, it was time to press on. But first, one last long look. “I love you Seljy, I’ll visit again soon I promise!”

Iceland has incredible music. Bjork, Sigur Ros, and Of Monsters and Men are just a few of the brilliant acts that have made it stateside. It probably would have been more appropriate to listen to them as we drove along the emerald green pastures. Sometimes though, you just need T Swift. Finding her on the radio didn’t take long. Our host had told us that many Icelandic teenagers practice their English by listening to American pop music. Windows rolled down and “22” on the stereo. Paradise. Even the horses (we call them “emo ponies”, see photo for evidence) gave us a smirk.

Long before anyone can remember, part of the coastline in southern Iceland began eroding and receding seaward. As this occurred Mother Nature flexed Her fingers and clawed her fingernail into a cliffside. The nearby Skógá River had waited for this moment for eons. Now it could return to its source. It stampeded to the cliff and dove into oblivion. A thunderous roar emerged from the earth. Skógafoss was born.

 

If Seljalandsfoss is the child, Skógafoss is the world-weary grandfather. He has seen it all. In the span of His lifetime humans are but a mere leaf in the wind. He has become hardened. He turns away the fool who treads to close to His wake yet, to the respectful traveler He will unearth His secrets and true beauty.

Silence falls over our group as we amble towards the falls. The karaoke session is far-gone. In the presence of Skógafoss’s enormous power it feels as though we are walking into a church. Near the alter we halt. Do we dare step any closer? Jenna is the first. The spray grows stronger. The roar grows louder. She slips behind a rock. The rest of us join her. No turning back now. At this point we have no choice but to embrace the torrent. Clear eyes, full hearts! We rush in. 
 

laugh rises above the cacophony. We’ve done it! We earned Skógafoss’s trust. Drenched and relieved, we look to the side of the falls and see steps. Skógafoss urges us to climb. “You’ve seen nothing yet,” He bellows. We climb the hundreds of steps with a spring in our step. Gazing up into the searing white sky, it seems we will summit in the heavens. I’m not so sure we didn’t.

What words could I use to describe what we saw there? They would all ring hollow. Perhaps I could compare it to the first experience of a Mark Rothko painting? A Martha Graham dance performance? Mahler 8? They come close, but humans are still the creator. The beauty before us emerged from a realm beyond our understanding. Awe was the only appropriate response.

Have I gotten too philosophical? My apologies. We, of course, quickly seized the opportunity to be ridiculous. Skógafoss didn’t mind.

The hours slipped by without any hint they had gone. Exploring an alien planet will do that to you. Unfortunately the drive back would be several hours and a change of clothes was increasingly welcome. We slowly walked back to the car with constant last looks over the shoulder. Wait! We didn’t have a group photo yet.

That’s better. The rest of the group quickly drifted into sleep to the soft patter of rain on the windshield. A smile swept across my face. I looked out the window and the gentlest calm washed over me. I had not a care in the world. Perfect harmony. Everything in its right place.
 

So much else followed. A magnificent glacier (Snæfellsjökull) on the western peninsula, chasing seals just outside of Black Sand Beach, a Reykjavík night out full of Viking beer and fish stew…but that’s another story. For now I will just leave you with one final glimpse of Iceland’s transcendent splendor. We weren’t lucky enough to get the perfect weather to view them, but even behind thick clouds the Northern Lights are beyond compare. Maybe you’ll just have to go see them for yourself.