Lake Hítarvatn July 6th, 2018

Problem with the waders.

Here are the fishing companions setting off on their hike. The lake is mirror-smooth, and trout could be seen rising all across the water. In the middle of the lake, a group of swans basked in the sun. The cliffs on the right, down by the water in the center of the image, are called Stóruklif.

A friend of mine called me on Wednesday to see if I had time for a short hike on Friday. I reckoned I did. We knew the route well, having trekked several times to the Suðurdalsá river at the northern end of the lake. We have had some good fishing there over the years—even legendary at times. But in fishing, nothing is ever guaranteed; one can encounter anything, even mishaps. As it turned out, mishaps were to be my lot on this trip.

Here you can see the waterfall in the Suðurdalsá river. On maps, I can see two abandoned farms marked in this area: Gínandi, located at the northwestern corner of the lake, and Bjúgkot, which sits by the middle of the lake. I have also heard the name Tjaldbrekka mentioned, though I don’t know exactly where that farmstead was situated.

The sun has been a rare sight in the south of Iceland in recent months. So rare, in fact, that one has to look back to 1914 to find such a lack of sunshine in the southwest. The same can be said for the relentless rain; you’d have to search back a hundred years to find a comparable stretch of foul weather. It was, therefore, quite remarkable that the blessed sun warmed us as we prepared for our hike. Due to the recent weather, the lake’s water level was higher than we had ever seen before. The surface was mirror-smooth, and a multitude of swans basked in the gentle weather out in the middle of the lake.

A short break at Stóraklif, which is essentially the only part of the hike that involves an incline. At a rough estimate, the trek is 7.5 km each way and not difficult at all.

Shortly after we reached the far end of the lake, the sun tucked itself away behind the clouds and stayed there for the remainder of the trip. The wind picked up, leaving us struggling to cast our flies against the southerly breeze. My misfortunes began almost the moment I waded in. Water started streaming into my waders from several spots. The influx was such that I might as well not have been wearing them at all. Before long, the cold became unbearable, as the waters of Hítarvatn are frigid. I did manage to land one Arctic char before deciding to start the slow trek back. Still, I couldn't resist casting occasionally where small streams flowed into the lake. I hooked one decent char in the northwestern corner, but the beauty got away. As a small consolation, I caught and landed a one-pound brown trout. Otherwise, I just sloshed my way along the 7.5 kilometers by the Vatnshlíð slope until I reached the car. Meanwhile, my companion managed to pick up about ten trout back at Suðurdalsá."

Vöðlurnar sem brugðust mér svona illa í þessari ferð fékk ég í fimmtugsafmælisgjöf. Það mælir varla með þeim að þær hafi byrjað að leka eftir tæplega eitt sumar í veiði. Eftir fyrstu viðgerð bættust bara við ný og ný göt. Ég velti fyrir mér hvort maður eigi bara að gefa goretexið upp á bátinn og snúa sé að neophrane vöðlum aftur. Maður er hvort sem er alltaf í vatnaveiði. Eða á ég bara að dröslast upp á háaloft því þar eru gamlar goretexvöðlur sem ég keypti í Nanouq fyrir löngu síðan. Ef til vill halda þær vatni.

I believe this is the northern end of Fagraskógarfjall mountain. A little further down the valley—though not far off—the largest landslide to occur in Iceland since the settlement fell. The cause can be traced back to the persistent rains of May, June, and the early part of July. The debris blocked the Hítará river, forcing the water to carve a new path around the slide. It will be fascinating to observe how nature responds to these cataclysmic events.