Laxá in Laxardalur: Iceland's Hidden Brown Trout Paradise

By Rasmus Ovesen

Image by Rasmus Ovesen // Martin Ejler Olsen

WHIRLING SNOW FLAKES blindly collide onto my glistnening wet clothing. One freezing weather front after the other screeches and drifts through the valley catalyzed by hoarse northern winds, which nestle seamlessly upstream like a heavy, unwelcome, and ice-cold expiration from the Arctic realm. It is almost impossible to keep warm!

The steep cliffs that tower majestically over the river‘s meandering branches downstream are clad in an increasingly nuanceless whiteness, the sky is the colour of lead, and the trembling air that hangs above the river‘s fleeing water masses is like a grainy fog that flickers before our eyes, repealing all depth of field in the otherwise contrastful and saturated lava landscape.

The season has just been kicked off here at Laxá in Laxardalur, Iceland‘s perhaps best – and certainly most overlooked brown trout river. It‘s June, it‘s light out all day, and early in the summer – a time of year that offers notorically unpredictable and skizophrenic weather in Iceland. During last year‘s season opening week, the guests at the lodge were fishing in t-shirts and rolled-up sleeves. This year, well... it‘s an entirely different story.

THE RIVER‘S ICY WATER licks ceaselessly up against my legs, the wind rips relentlessly at my flapping wading jacket hood, and the cold and wet snow flakes that crash against the exposed skin of my face send shivers through my entire body, while I step further downstream along the seam that I‘ve just covered.

I squint my eyes, shiver, and try to find a little warmth in the knowledge that – despite the weather - my buddy, Martin, and I have had incredible fishing the last two days. Having landed several well-built 2kg+ brown trout and more than a handful of fish in excess of 3 kilos, we are in no position to be complaining about the weather. By now, however, there is an undeniably appealing warmth and comfort in knowing that we‘ll soon be on our way back to Scandinavia, where it‘s actually summer.

I scan the water to pick a new spot to cast my streamer at –if my frozen hands and fingers are capable of another cast, that is. The fly hisses reluctantly through the air, and after a couple of blind casts it collides onto the water a couple of meters beyond the seam that I‘ve picked out. A bit further downstream, approximately where the fly will soon be passing over, there‘s a depression in the bottom and a promising holding spot with relatively slack water.

I MEND THE LINE somewhat mechanically upstream, to give the zonker fly a moment to sink towards the river‘s dark and secretive bottom. I then proceed to retrieve the fly, incorporating small jerks and longer strip bursts along the way to make the flies‘ hair materials pulsate enticingly.

It doesn‘t take long before I feel the strike. It is brutal and heavy as lead, and my blunt strip set it met by an immediate series of deep, convulsive shakes that permeate through the fly line via the fly rod‘s crooked carbon fibres and straight into the cock handle. The slack line now starts fluttering through the fly rod‘s guides and, shortly after, when it finally runs out – and direct contact is established between the fish and my fly reel‘s drag mechanics - each of the fish‘ ensuing pulls and jerky escape attemps downstream are accompanied by an exact correspondance of hoarse drag noises. I suspect it‘s a solid fish. And once it changes tactics and starts cartwheeling out of the water in a series of acrobatic jumps that send spiralling cascades of foamy lead-grey water drops into the air, my suspicion is confirmed.

AFTER 30 YEARS OF FLY FISHING, I‘m still at a point where I forget things on shore. My landing net for instance. I‘m in the middle of the river, the fish is propelling itself irresistibly downstream, and I find myself flushed with these horrifying visions of the barbless hook being spit or the fickle 0.18mm leader breaking before I ever get anywhere near the landing net.

Luckily, my buddy, Martin, is within relatively close range and he has already taken note of the drama that is unfolding. He rushes to get the net, and when I finally approach the river bank with the fish thrashing maniacally around at the end of a short line – a great deal further downstream from where it was hooked - Martin is right there with the net.

The majestic fish finally starts showing signs of tiring, but it hasn‘t quite given in yet – and it certainly doesn‘t like the shallow water along the river bank. It rushes off into deeper water three times in demonstrative spurts of pure muscle and anger. And it isn‘t until the fourth of fifth attempt – after having balanced nerve-wrackingly on the net frame several times, that Martin finally slides the net under the fish, bags it, and tows it triumfantly towards the bank.

IT IS TRULY BIG. The measuring tape shows a whopping 70 centimeters, and the scales in my McLean-net, which reveal a weight of a solid 4 kilos, bear witness to a mastodont of an old brown trout with dark-brown colorations, an enthralling blue sheer across the almost steel-like gill plates and incalculable amounts of ink stainlike spots, which – along the flanks – are meticulously encircled by irridiscent hues of silver. The magnificent fish is released back into the river after a few, quick photos. And then the trip is over.

We‘re both somewhat shell shocked as we follow the river back to our car. Ahead of us is a gruelling 7-hour drive underneath the drousy floodlight of the low hanging midnight sun. We have to make haste to reach our early morning flights to Copenhagen and Oslo.

We have burned our candles in both ends, but our madness has paid off. And with plentiful amounts of adrenaline pumping through our vains, a whole tank full of fuel, a bag full of Red Bull and lots of stories to disseminate after 2,5 hectic and memorable days along our new favourite river, we‘re hopeful that well make it to Reykjavik unscathed.

We can always sleep when we get old...

The Laxá River drains out of Myvatn; the sixth biggest lake in Iceland. The river meanders a little less than 100 kilometers downstream through undulating terrain in Iceland‘s Nordurland district some 500 kilometers from the capital, Reykjavik. Laxá means salmon in Icelandic, and it is essentially a salmon river - but a dammed one. And this, at least in part, explains why the brown trout fishing is soo good. The dam, which is situated 20 kilometers from the ocean, effectively prevents the salmon from traveling futher up the rivershed, thus providing the brown trout with a perfectly suited and protected habitat all their own.

Laxá‘s brown trout fishery is divided into two different beats; Laxá in Myvatnsveit and Laxá in Laxardalur, which comprise

more than 30 kilometers of perfect and crystal clear brown trout habitat. Laxá in Myvatnsveit is the upper beat, and it consists of myriads of pools, pockets, lava shelves, back waters and riffles, which are interruptet by one island and gravel bar after the other.

Laxá in Laxardalur, on the other hand, is more sedate and wide – not unlike many of Iceland‘s famed salmon rivers. This part of the river, which is found immediately below Mavatnsveit, is more than 300 meters wide in certains spots. However, there are very few sections of the river that can‘t be crossed in a pair of waders – and the bottom, which primarily consists of fine lava sediments and gravel, is unproblematic to wade.

Licenses for Laxadalur‘s beats include lodging. The lodge is called Raudhólar and it is an ambient full-service lodge situated conveniently on the eastern shores of the river. It was completey refurbished in 2019, and it accommodates 10 fly fishermen, which are offered their own private rooms with modern bathrooms, central heating and comfortable beds. The lodge is run by Reykjavik Angling Club (https://www. svfr.is) and is administered by Bjarni Höskuldsson, who has fished the river since he was a child, and who is a wealth of knowledge about the conditions in- and on the river.

The fishing is split into two sessions. The first one is from 8:00 – 14:00, and it is followed by lunch at the lodge. The second session lasts from 16:00 – 22:00, and it is concluded by dinner at the lodge. The season runs from May 29th until August 28th, and prime-time is from the beginning of July until the middle of August. (This is when the dry fly fishing is typically at its best).

Mandatory catch and release practices were introduced in 2017. Before then, between 1600 and 2000 fish were killed every season. Since 2017, the numbers and size of the fish in Laxá have exploded, and the average fish in the river is now somewhere in the vicinity of 60 centimeters. Every year, multible fish exceeding 70 centimeters are caught, specimens up to 76 centimeters have been caught on dry flies, and fish up to 84 centimeters have been caught on streamers.

Because the fish are generally well-nopurished and in fantastic ovarall condition it‘s not uncommon to catch brown trout over four kilos, and the biggest fish in the river probably weigh around 7 – 8 kilos. For an arctic river with a native and self-reproducing strain of brown trout, this is very impressive in deed!

If you visit Laxá in Laxardalur early in the season, you might also find yourself catching big land-locked arctic char, as these fish migrate downstream from Myvatn during the winter months. Otherwise, there are no other distractions from the brown trout fishing. The brown trout are numerous. And they feed actively and intensely throughout the whole summer.

There are many fish in Laxá in Laxardalur, but you shouldn‘t necessarily expect to catch a lot of fish there. For that, the water is, quite simply, too clear and the fish too savvy. 2 - 3 fish per day is what you can realistically expect to catch – if you fish hard all day, that is.

Laxardalur is divided into six smaller beats, encompassing both the eastern- and western shores of the river, and they are rotated among the lodge guests on a daily basis. There is nearby parking at the best pools and runs, and every beat offers more water than you could possibly fish in a whole day. However, in stead of letting it all overwhelm and stress you, it‘s a good idea to stay calm and fish the most promising holding spots with great care and patience.

Early in the season, you‘ll be concentrating on covering water effectively either with weighted streamers, which are swung cross-current at a sedate pace with frequent upstream mends, or with indicator nymphs. Some of the most popular patterns include Zonker TC streamers from Fulling Mill in sizes 6 – 2, Grey Ghosts and Rabbit Zonkers. With regards to nymphs, especially size 1018 jig-nymphs in natural colours along with red or orange Squirmy Wormies, are safe bets. These flies can be bounced along the bottom, and they‘re easy for the trout to see and pick up.

As the season progresses and summer arrives, Laxardalur‘s trout turn their attention increasingly towards the surface, and here they typically rise to different midges and sedges. At this time of year, most people completely switch over and focus on sight-fishing with dry flies. For this type of fishing, 9‘ 4-weight fly rods, WF floating lines and 5 – 6 meter long leaders, which can be mended and manipulated; and which are tapered to a 0.14mm tippet – are typically used. For streamer- and nymph fishing, on the other hand, heavier equipment is used: 9‘ 6-weight fly rods, WF floating lines with short and powerful tapers and 4 – 5 meter long fluorocarbon leaders with 0.20mm tippets.

The weather in Iceland can be unpredictable, and some of Laxardalur‘s guests have experienced waking up to 20 centimeters of snow in the middle of July. That should amply underline the importance of packing warm- and weatherproof clothing. Additionally, the water temperatures are quite moderate all year round, so you‘ll need up to three wool layers or a thick fleece layer (for instance Simms‘ Fjord Pants) in addition to a pair of wool core bottoms. Also, make sure to bring warm upperbody layers – preferably wicking ones, since you‘ll be alternating a lot between mobile and stationary fishing.

A Gore-Tex shell jacket, which breathes and – more importantly –creates an effective barrier against wind, rain, and snow is essential. Furthermore, it is highly recommended to bring wool fingergloves, a beanie, and a fleece Buff to keep your neck and ears warm, when the winds are really howling.

There are many convenient flights to Iceland; a place that is generally well-connected to the rest of the world. Icelandair offers flights to the capital Reykjavijk all-year-round at very favourable prices. If you book well in advance, you should be able to find return tickets in the 200-250 Euro range, and there‘s always the possibility of doing a stop-over in Iceland for a bit of fishing, if you‘re traveling elsewhere. Additional information about Icelandair‘s flights to and via Iceland can be found here: www.icelandair.com

In order to drive along Laxa in Laxardalur and get to the individual beats, it‘s definitely an advantage to rent a 4x4 of a certain size – one that, as a minimum, matches a Duster Dacia.

GoIceland (www.goiceland.com) offers a wide selection of 4x4‘s, and they can help you find just the right car. Schedule for an approximately 7-hour drive from Keflavik to the river. It‘s a 500 kilometer drive, but many of the roads are relatively small and winding.