Edward Hancox: Hvalreki
Hraunfossar is something else. Not really a waterfall, but a series of small tumbles in parallel. The Hallmundarhraun lava field drops by a metre or so across approximately 900 metres, meaning that a line of waterfalls suddenly appears and trickles beautifully into the bright aquamarine Hvítá river. The falls are brilliant white and with the river being such a dramatic blue, it was quite surreal, as if viewed in HD. People began turning up all around me, and some bright spark had set up a sandwich stall. I didn’t mind sharing the site, but I fervently hope it doesn’t get spoilt. Barnafoss (or as some would have it, Bjarnafoss) is just a few hundred metres away. It’s the same Hvítá river, but nothing like as serene. These falls are squeezed through a dark lava canyon, causing the blue water to thrash around on itself, like your worst nightmare fairground log flume. Water spray hung in the air. It wasn’t the only thing hanging in the air there, either. The place was tinged with sadness. Barnafoss is named after two children who, according to local folklore, were left to play at home one Christmas while their parents attended Christmas Mass. For some reason, the children decided to leave the farm and follow their parents, taking a shortcut across this very stretch of river, over a natural rocky archway. The footsteps in the snow ended there, and it is 13