Icelanders have a phrase that is telling for our volatile climate: veðurgluggi; literally, it means weather window. It describes a relatively short period where the weather is surprisingly good, and you are almost duty-bound to take advantage of it. My friend and I, Martin Schulz, enjoyed this during our August visit to the remote and mysterious Múlagljúfur. On our trip, we had already explored Rauðibotnand Langisjór.
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Testing our luck
Múlagljúfur is a short distance from Fjallsárlón lagoon, nestled right beneath the massive Vatnajökull glacier. When we started from Vík towards Múlagljúfur, we were not optimistic about being able to see much of the canyon since the weather forecast was all about rain and clouds. Nevertheless, we decided to test our luck and see what we could see.
Silly antics in Skaftafell
There was hardly any rain on the way, and we had a pleasant drive past Kirkjubæjarklaustur and Skaftafell. We stopped at the road junction where the twisted remains of a steel bridge reminded us of the torrent from the Skeiðaárjökull flood in 1996. I climbed to the top of the mangled steel structure and encouraged a young man to do the same. He made some half-hearted attempts to climb up there with me but got more serious when I told him I was almost fifty and asked his age. He told me that he was twenty and finally got up with me. He, however, refused to slide down as I did. Well, he has his whole life ahead of him to do fun and silly things.
A dream comes true
When we got to Múlagljúfur, it was more overcast, but no rain. The clouds were high, so it all looked good. We followed the trail, which was messy since the ground was wet and muddy, and there were some streams to cross. But the weather was good, and it was warm on the way. I got gradually more excited as we approached the canyon. I had wanted to visit Múlagljúfur for years, and here I finally was. And even if it was overcast, it added to the dramatic environment. I think that it is pretty rare to come to Múlagljúfur to find it bathed in sunshine. The neighboring giant of a glacier regularly sends down fog and rain to hide its prized possession.
Discovering a new favorite waterfall deep within Múlagljúfur canyon
I am not a good enough writer to describe the grandeur of Múlagljúfur. Of course, it looks like a dragon’s lair from the Lord of the Rings universe or the home of a wildling tribe in Game of Thrones. But such tired metaphors do not do it any justice. The canyon is deep and has an aura of foreboding around it. It is a wild and dangerous place. The sheer height of the canyon is probably about two hundred meters or even more. It has two impressive waterfalls, Hangandifoss waterfall, which you see immediately when you come up to the canyon. But deep within is the stunning Múlafoss waterfall, now one of my favorite waterfalls in Iceland.
The daredevil sheep of Múlagljúfur canyon
What astonished me was the sheep that had created paths on the opposite near vertical wall of the canyon. They seemed content enough to meander in the nearly vertical canyon wall. Perhaps the grass is extra good there? in any case, those wooly daredevils did not seem to care about the drop resulting from a misstep. We met two young ladies from Germany who raised an interesting question. Who exactly goes after those sheep during the yearly round-up in the fall? I said I didn’t know, but it would not be me! If somebody sent me on a sheep round-up trip in this vast canyon, I would just break down and cry.
Testing the limits of my vertigo
While Martin took pictures (I am afraid you are stuck with my sub-par photography in this article), I noticed people at the top of a rocky hill cresting above the canyon. I decided to check out whatever they were checking out, and after a short hike, I reached the hill and peaked over the top, and my legs just turned to jelly. A bit of fog was creeping from the glacier above the canyon, and I could see from my vantage point how the canyon bends from its origins down to where I had come. And I could glimpse the foreboding glacier above. I did my best to take pictures, but every nerve in my body did not want to stand close to the edge.
When I came back down, the weather window was shutting. It was beginning to rain, and more fog was creeping down the canyon. It was time to go. On the drive back, I thanked the universe for creating Múlagljúfur canyon and giving me the chance to see it in its glory.
