THE MYSTIC BLACK BEACH AND THE MAJESTIC SECRET WATERFALL
We fueled our bodies with the great breakfast spread at the Fosshotel and then set off for the adventure of the day. We were heading south to see the black sand beach of Vik. Just last year the Travel Channel had named Vik’s beach as one of the top ten beaches in the world and also the only non-tropical beach to get that recognition. Leaving Reykjavik we followed the one highway that meandered along the edge of the whole country- Route 1.
The flat blue horizon stretched out in front of us like a pale canvas. With hardly any cars on the road, it seemed like it was just us driving limitlessly towards this vast expanse.
As we drove further away from Reykjavik, we began to see green pastures with the indigenous wooly sheep peacefully grazing and watching us with bored attention. Further in the back stood majestic ice capped mountains.
The land we drove on was flat and unobstructed. Halfway to Vik we suddenly see the vision of a tall, sinewy waterfall in the distance. We were so excited to finally see Seljandsfoss.
As we drove up to it, we saw many other cars and four-wheel drive vehicles parked almost in front of the falls. It was a pretty impressive sight to see the 200foot drop of the cascading water. After taking several pictures we went up a slippery, muddy path along the base of the falls that snaked around to the back of the falls and it was an amazing experience to be drenched by the cool spray foaming majestically in front of us.
At the parking lot there was a café-food truck as well as a small store selling Icelandic wool. While admiring the lovely wool blankets and sweaters we struck up a conversation with the owner of the shop who not only was the knitter of the wool garments but also the owner of the land. She told us about a secret waterfall called Gljufrabuifoss just a few hundred feet away that was not known to all the tourists.
Excited by the idea of seeing a concealed landmark, we drove just down a little path, parked the car and walked up to the cave from which the river was gushing out. Walking precariously along the river on one side and the jagged cave walls on the other, we carefully stepped in and gingerly walked inside into the dark cave with only the sound of thundering water to guide us.
Suddenly we stopped and gasped in astonishment – the cave roof gave way to the sight of crashing water pummeling the rocks right in front of us. It was an incredible sight and it truly was a secret waterfall because from the outside you have no idea about the majesty of the thrashing waters just behind the cave. Of course we tried to take pictures but I don’t think we could capture the moment or the wonder of the majestic sight.
Thrilled with our secret encounter we left energized and invigorated. After just a short drive we came across the mighty Skogarfoss, another lovely waterfall about 200 ft high and slightly horse-shoe shaped at 80 feet wide. It boasted an awe-inspiring splash as it thundered down in a perfect cascade.
To the eastern edge were several hundred rough steps leading up to the top of the waterfall and we joined the other visitors trudging their way up. Even though our legs complained by the non-stop climbing, simply stopping to catch a breath and watching the misty roar was enough to energize us to keep climbing. We were not disappointed when we finally reached the top and were rewarded by the beautiful vistas. The falls plummeted into the Skogar river that snaked its way to Atlantic ocean just ahead of us. Behind us were green lush meadows that were the perfect backdrop for a quick rest under the blue skies.
The sights from the top of the falls were just as memorable as the view of the falls thundering in front of us at the bottom. We treated ourselves to a nice cup of coffee sitting in the coffee shop and looking at the falls through the wide glass windows. Further down the road we stopped to have local fish and chips at a food truck owned by a lovely mother-daughter team.
Back on the road we saw several slivers of waterfalls as we passed the sea cliffs on our left. We reached Vik, the southernmost tip of Iceland and drove around the small town.
Even though the black sand beaches that had put Vik on the map were accessible from any part of the town, we wanted to experience the raw beauty of the black beach with the majestic cliffs in the background- called Reynisfjara.
To get there, we back tracked for a few miles and turned off the ‘highway’ to route 215 and drove on until we reached the pounding waves of the Atlantic Ocean. It was an awesome sight –on one side were the jagged basalt cliff columns stacked on top of one another and resembling organ pipes.
The black beach was blanketed with inky-grey cobbles smoothened out by the wind and sea into polished ovals and rounds. Closer to the thrashing North Atlantic waters, the pebbles were crushed into smaller granules and right by the breaking waves they were pulverized into black sand.
Further out from the beach were the fabled basalt sea stacks called Reynisdrangar. Local folklore claim that 3 trolls were engrossed in pulling a ship to the shore but lost track of time and were frozen in place as daylight broke and there they stand, spikily jutting out of the sea.
Still ahead was an intriguing cave with glittering basalt formations all over the ceiling of the cave resembling jagged, clinging, angular mussels.
Standing on the beach and facing north we could see the iconic sight of Dyrholaey ( which literally translates to the hill-island with the door-hole). The famous arch under the perpendicular cliff looked forlorn and mysterious as it stood solemnly in the dark waters.
We went back on the road and veered off again to drive on to the top of Dyrholaey in the hopes of seeing nesting puffins. From the high vantage point we could easily see the black beach we had just come from and the stark silhouette of the jagged troll-rocks.
Satisfied with our exploration of the sourthern part of Iceland, we headed back to Reyjkyavik. It was past 9pm and we still needed to stop for dinner. After about an hour of driving we pulled into the driveway of the Ranga hotel situated alongside a salmon river.
The manager of the hotel Ingi Por Jakobsson met us warmly and found us a lovely table by the windows. The ambience of the lovely hotel rivaled the fresh gourmet food we tasted. The highlight however was the lively tales and entertaining stories that our dynamic manager regaled us with.
Here is where I sampled the famous (infamous!) Hakari. How could we not taste the traditional dish of cured-for-months shark meat? The rest of the group were coaxed into it and we all bit into the fermented, smelly meat and washed it down with the crisp and strong Brennivin- the local Icelandic liquor that literally meant burnt wine but was also ominously known as the Black Death.
Having had a good meal, a great conversation, and earning bragging rights for eating rotten shark, we were pleased by how much we had achieved in the day and finally at around midnight, we were ready to drive back to Reykjavik. It was still bright outside and there was this ethereal mist swaying in and out and making the landscape seem even more mysterious on the uneventful drive back to Reykjavik , the northern-most capital in the world.
