9 minute read
Iceland: The Viking Seatrout of Battle Hill
By: MATT HARRIS
I’ve enjoyed some wonderful days teasing out fish with riffle-hitch tactics and calling out salmon to my friends using ‘walkie-talkies’ from canyon ramparts high above the water. However, my one reservation has always been the relatively modest size of Iceland’s salmon. To my mind, when it comes to salmon, big is beautiful. No doubt a psychologist could point to some sort of Freudian inadequacies on my part, but I know that I am not alone in liking my salmon big and nasty. Outsized brutes that do their level best to drag you into the river.
I was chatting to my old Icelandic mate Kristjan Raffnson one evening over a few glasses of beer and Brenevin. We first met on the Kola Peninsula and we both share a passion for big Atlantic salmon. The drink had loosened my tongue, and I had taken to mischievously teasing my friend about the relative size of the fish in his native homeland.
Kristjan gave me his lopsided grin and without a word, pushed a picture under my nose that shut me up in an instant. I was looking at a truly stupendous fish. Twenty-five pounds of brutish muscle wrapped in a dazzling chrome-silver paint job, peppered with black spots and replete with a monstrous spade of a tail. It was a magnificent sight.
Iceland does have some truly gargantuan anadromous fish running its rivers, Kristjan confided, but mostly, they are not salmon. They are seatrout. “Interested?” He grinned. He already knew the answer.
Viking seatrout
Long before the Norwegian Viking Ingolfr Arnarson came marauding across the wild north Atlantic to settle in Iceland way back in the year 874, the magnificent indigenous sea-run brown trout of this wild and bleakly beautiful island were rushing in from the ocean to invade its rivers and streams.
In a remote corner of Southeast Iceland close to the half-forgotten little town of Kirkjubæjarklaustur, the Skafta river bounces down off the vast Vatnajokull glacier and meanders across the petrified Bruna Hraun lava field, part of one of Iceland’s three UNESCO world heritage sites. Above these endless moss-covered flatlands, an extraordinary upland landscape crowds the horizon, with craggy cliffs, vast glaciers and countless waterfalls everywhere you look.
The Skafta is a big river, a milky torrent of opaque glacial meltwater, but from those same sheer mountains above, a clutch of crystal streams come tumbling down to meet it. At the junction of these various streams, the rivers combine to become the Vatnamot, (roughly translated as “waters meet” in Icelandic) and there are few if any finer sea trout fisheries in the Northern Hemisphere.
In autumn, as the moss fades to a washed-out rusty golden hue, and soft mists hang on the spectacular crags, this remote land is a breathtakingly beautiful place. At night, a million stars sparkle in the crystal skies, and if you are lucky, the Aurora Borealis may also paint its freakish magic across the heavens.
From August until October, legions of broad-shouldered sea trout ranging from lithe little beauties to hulking leviathans of close to thirty pounds come charging up the Vatnamot and then into the limpid waters of the Fossalar, the Horgsa and the Geirlandsa.
These three rivers are all bewitchingly beautiful, but the upper Geirlandsa is out on its own as perhaps the most spectacular sea trout fishery in the world. This beguiling little gem splashes off of the southern highlands before spilling over Hagafoss and into a canyon full of vast boulders and enchanted waterfalls. It is a surreally beautiful valley with an otherworldly quality that would make Tolkien blush.
Aggressive anadromous fish
By mid-September, in the cold, clear pools, double-figure sea trout collect in numbers prior to spawning, and they can be caught with everything from riffle-hitched Sunray Shadows to big streamer patterns to tiny nymphs. There are few more beautiful places on earth in which to catch big sea-run fish on fly tackle.
Although the Geirlandsa is to my mind the undoubted jewel in this remarkable fishery’s crown, the Fossalar too is a sea trout fishing wonderland in its own right. Rising from a cold clear lake set high in the glacial moonscape to the north, it snakes under spectacular cliffs before meandering across the lava field and finally meeting the Vatnamot. The Fossalar offers countless pools that are often stacked with prodigious sea trout. After rainfall, the fish become rabidly aggressive and will smash big streamer patterns with gusto.
A sanctuary
Kristjan has made it his mission to protect and nurture this special fishery. Since acquiring the fishing rights over the last couple of years, he has imposed a strict 100 per cent catch and release policy and the already impressive catch numbers are set to burgeon in the years to come.
Kristjan has centred the fishing around a converted farmhouseBattle Hill Lodge - which is Iceland’s first lodge dedicated specifically to sea trout fishing. The lodge is beautifully appointed just a stone’s throw from the Fossalar and it offers a comfortable base from which to access the fishing.
The lodge is named for Battle HillOrustuhóll in the native tongue. This little geological oddity is typical of Southern Iceland’s eccentric topography: a tiny hill that sits all alone in the vast Bruna Hraun lava field. Orustuhóll is named for a long-forgotten tenth-century skirmish where a notorious Viking warlord, Hróars Tungugoði came to grief. It is a spectacular spot. Just to the east, the gargantuan Vatnajokull Glacier looms over the sprawling lava field, and on a clear day, it sparkles in the autumn sunshine.
The lodge offers easy access to the Fossala, Vatnamót, Geirlandsa, Jónskvísl, Tungulækur and Grenlækur rivers, which are all capable of throwing up twenty-pound searun brown trout, as well as char and salmon, which are almost considered a nuisance when targeting the big sea-run trout.
The lodge is not fancy by Icelandic standards, but it is comfortable and has an easy, convivial atmosphere that I really enjoyed. Breakfasts are a hearty affair that leave guests well-fortified for the long day ahead. Evenings are spent recounting the stories of the day over rib-sticking suppers and a few bottles of something good, punctuated by dashes into the yard to watch the Northern Lights dancing overhead.
Sensational battles
In my three visits to Battle Hill, I’ve experienced some sensational battles with these indomitable fish. One wild evening on the lower Vatnamot, fishing with Kristjan Raffnson springs to mind...
Kristjan was standing on the high cut bank nursing a hip flask - MY hip flask! - while I was wading the wide waters of the river. We were trading banter and enjoying the atmosphere of the evening when suddenly, I experienced a wrenching take, and a huge, silver sea trout clambered into the darkening autumn sky.
“Run!” shouted Kristjan. I laughed. “How’s that going to work?” I countered. “I’m up to my waist in the river!” I was, too - in the fast-flowing waters of the icy Vatnamot river and fully twenty yards from the riverbank.
The big chrome fish threw another big cartwheel in the crisp autumn air. Then he turned tail and headed for the sea. I watched my fly reel emptying fast. Very fast.
“You have to get out of the river and RUN!!” urged Kristjan. He was serious.
I stumbled precariously to the shoreline and slithered up the treacherous black sands. With the rod still bucking wildly in my hand, Kristjan pulled me unceremoniously up onto the high flat plateau five feet above the river. Then we were running breathlessly downstream in pursuit of the fish.
“Backing was still cascading wildly from the big reel”
Backing was still cascading wildly from the big reel and I glimpsed the metal arbour through the rapidly thinning gel spun. “It’s going back to the sea!” I spluttered, as I stumbled and fell. “I know!” laughed Kristjan as he helped me up. “That’s what they do! Welcome to sea trout fishing in Iceland!!”
These fish do not disappoint - they are spectacular fighters and almost invariably jump the moment they are hooked. If you hook one when it’s fresh from the sea, it will be ocean-bright and chrome silver, but the fish very quickly colour to a deep mahogany to blend with the black sand that carpets the river bed, making these magnificent fish look more like outsize resident browns.
I carefully cradled the beautiful hen for a quick picture, and then, as I relaxed at last, she twisted abruptly out of my grasp and was gone. I felt utterly elated. I thanked my old friend and we celebrated with what was left of the Tullamore Dew in the flask.
Then we bounced back over the moonscape in Kristjan’s Land Cruiser as the stars started to sparkle like diamonds in the darkening sky, and arrived back at the lodge to find that talented Czech guide Maros had topped my fish with a twenty-one pounder on his afternoon off. What a place!
While I was admiring the pictures of Maros’s fish, two other brilliant young guides, Jerome and Mats casually sauntered in and declared that the Northern lights were dancing across the sky. As I stood in the old Battle Hill farmyard with a big glass of single malt and a bunch of kindred spirits, sharing banter and laughter as the Aurora swirled overhead, it was hard not to pinch myself. Never mind Salmo Salar. South East Iceland is a seatrout fisher’s paradise.
Contacts:
Matt Harris will be hosting two weeks at Battle Hill Lodge in September and early October 2025. If you are interested in fishing with Matt, get in touch via mattharris@mattharris.com
Matt Harris’s new book “The Fish of a Lifetime” is a 656 page collection of flyfishing stories and images from around the world. It is now available at www.thefishofalifetime.com
