Hengifoss

I'd been looking forward to most: hiking to Hengifoss, then heading out at 9pm to see puffins at Borgarfjarðarhöfn. The weather cooperated — blue sky, scattered clouds. Hengifoss doesn't have the name recognition of Iceland's headline waterfalls, but it was the one I wanted to see most, because of a single photo angle I'd stumbled across on Instagram — a shot looking down over the falls from above. I got obsessed with finding that exact rock. I went through every geotagged photo on Google Maps I could find, then cross-referenced them against satellite imagery to pin down the rock's coordinates. I searched hiking blogs and trip reports and found only two relevant posts, both on Reddit. Where does the route up start? Where does the path go? I studied aerial imagery for hours before picking an entry point — most of my "research" came from staring at satellite photos rather than reading anyone else's guide, because almost no one seems to have gone up that way. I love hiking, even though I don't get to do it often. But my experience with wild, remote destinations is: if you don't hike, you miss the best views — and the best views are almost always from the top. So that day, with my travel companions and no real trail data to go on, we started climbing. The first half overlapped with the official trail — about 1.3 km with roughly 180 m of elevation gain, steep enough that it noticeably thins out the crowds compared to Iceland's easier stops. The entrance point turned out to be exactly where I'd guessed from the satellite images. After that, it was all route-finding: the faint traces of other people's footsteps were hard to follow, so we aimed for the coordinates I'd marked, crossing two waterfall streams, picking through boggy grass, and scrambling up rocky, steep sections, checking our position against the map as we went. We climbed one steep slope thinking we'd finally see the falls — nope, another slope behind it. One of my companions said, "There's nothing to see up here." I told her to keep climbing in that direction; it had to be there. And then I heard her shout. Both of my friends were thrilled. I knew they would be — and when I finally saw the waterfall from the top myself, I nearly teared up. It was that beautiful. At only 128 m tall, Hengifoss isn't Iceland's biggest waterfall, but its striped cliff of basalt and red clay is genuinely one of a kind among the waterfalls I've seen — I'm not aware of another waterfall with quite this same "layer cake" of lava and red clay strata. All told, we covered about 6.5 km with over 420 m of elevation gain — moderate-to-difficult, and really only suitable for people with decent hiking fitness and outdoor navigation skills. This route is not for casual visitors. Getting back down was harder than going up — route-finding downhill is always trickier — but we made it down safely and grabbed a couple of shots from the base too, from the angle most hikers get on the official trail. That evening at 9pm, we made it to Borgarfjarðarhöfn to see the puffins. Countless little ones scattered across the headland, sometimes within a meter of us. Easily the cutest bird I've ever seen. Hiking to Hengifoss Official trail: From the car park, the marked path runs about 2.5 km each way (5 km / 3 miles round trip), taking roughly 1.5–2 hours round trip. It's a steady, moderately steep climb — the terrain itself is fine underfoot, but the elevation gain is the main effort. Along the way, you'll pass Litlanesfoss, a smaller waterfall framed by dramatic hexagonal basalt columns, well worth stopping at even on its own. From the main viewpoint you can also see the cave behind Hengifoss. Off-trail overhead route (advanced, not official): For the elevated, symmetrical angle looking down over the falls, you'll need to leave the marked path entirely, cross streams, and navigate open, uneven terrain using GPS and your own route-finding. This adds significant distance and elevation gain, is unmarked, and should only be attempted by experienced hikers comfortable navigating without a trail. Given how few trip reports exist for this route, go prepared and don't expect signage or cell signal. Frequently Asked Questions How tall is Hengifoss? 128 meters (420 feet), making it Iceland's third-tallest waterfall. Why are there red stripes in the cliff at Hengifoss? The red bands are ancient clay and oxidized iron deposited between black basalt lava layers from past volcanic eruptions. Geologists have also found fossilized trees in the layers, evidence of a warmer climate in that period. How long is the hike to Hengifoss? The official round-trip trail is about 5 km (2.5 km each way) and takes 1.5–2 hours at a moderate pace, with a fairly steep initial climb. Is Hengifoss hard to reach? The official trail is moderate — steep in places but well-marked and manageable for anyone with reasonable fitness. Reaching the elevated "overhead" photo viewpoint, however, requires off-trail hiking and real navigation skill, and isn't recommended for casual visitors. What else is near Hengifoss? Litlanesfoss waterfall (on the trail itself), Lake Lagarfljót, and — further afield — Borgarfjarðarhöfn, a well-known spot to see puffins up close in East Iceland.