SOURCE-TO-SEA

THE MARKARFLJÓT RIVER SOURCE-TO-SEA

Suðurland, Iceland

Story & Images by Joey Schusler

“Markarfljót. Markarfljót. The Markarfljót River, in Iceland, you know?” Mason butchered the name repeatedly over the phone, with different, likely very wrong, pronunciations each time. A sourceto-sea packrafting trip was his latest brain child for our next grand adventure together. We’ve been doing these incredible adventures on a variety of magnitudes together since we were 5 years old - making him my longest standing friend. His younger brother Spencer comes in at a close second.

The three of us are going on 25 years of friendship and crazy times together. Each year as we grow older, we always seem to carve out some time for another grand adventure. It’s something we grew up doing together, so now it just feels natural to keep the tradition alive.

Mason and Spencer have been lifelong river rats, growing up doing river trips, kayaking the gnar, and now both practicing river management and water engineering for their careers. Meanwhile, I’ve only fallen in love with the ways of the river in recent years, first starting out in a packraft and expanding to all sorts of adventurous river travel since. Mason and Spencer have been incredible teachers and guides along the way.

I immediately committed to the Iceland trip with the two of them. I knew this would be one for the books, and after an online search of the Markarfljót River, I was taken with its beauty. I was a little apprehensive of being the green paddler in a crew of incredible experienced river runners, but I didn’t let that stop me. I

knew we would be able to figure things out as we went - despite the daunting waterfalls, deep all committing gorges, and sharp volcanic rock ready to chew away at our packrafts. Luckily we had the new PVC constructed Recon packrafts. Some of the pointiest and sharpest volcanic rock I have ever seen, especially a concern in a low volume river, would really put the packrafts to the test.

And with that, we set out. A public bus would take us from Reykjavík, the country’s capital, right to the heart of the Icelandic highlands in a region known as Landmannalaugar. Rolling hills, painted with a rainbow of minerals, neon grasses, and jagged otherworldly rock outcroppings, with mist rolling in and out of the landscape, only added to the mysticism and daunting nature of the adventure that lay ahead.

In our research online, we found no trip reports, no route descriptions, and for all we knew, this would be a first source-to-sea mission on this river.

The trip started with perhaps the pinnacle moment of comfort - a natural hot spring with a soft sandy bottom. We took a soak, and warmed the bones for the chilling adventure ahead. We then set out overland hiking to find the source of the river. Our packs were loaded with ten days of food and supplies for any sort of unknowns that lay ahead.

Following only the GPS, we headed higher and higher into the thick mist. I could see how easy it would be to get lost out here, and even in summer it was bone chillingly cold. The wind picked up more and more until it was such a struggle we would have to scream at one another to communicate - we were in the thick of it, with the hot springs far behind. Icy rain pelted our faces.

Eventually we set up camp in a rock outcropping for wind break, right at the very headwaters of the Markarfljót river. We had found the source, but it was still merely a trickle, and not nearly ready for us to float in. We hoped the levels would rise without too much more hiking.

The next day we set out on foot again, and thankfully were treated with two large tributaries flowing into the main channel. There was now enough water to float and get the burden of weight off our backs! We started paddling. We were out of the wind, and all was good again after the previous days struggles. There is nothing better that realizing that the pull of the river carries the weight off your back, and will slowly take you to where you need to go - in our case the coast of the Atlantic in Southern Iceland.

Along the way, we would dive in and out of the unknown - of fear and joy, pain and pleasure. Dark bottomless gorges where the sun barely shines full of class 4/5 whitewater, beautiful open flood planes amidst neon green peaks, free-soloing sheep high on the cliffs above, water so clear, so green, so turquoise, so red, and so black, camping in beds of loam so soft.

The Recon is the go-to boat for larger water and sharper surroundings, where failure is not an option and weight isn’t as paramount. The PVC construction is so incredibly bomber. It allows for higher pressures, which increases overall performance. And there were SHARP rocks in Iceland, so this was truly a testament to the quality of the boats.”

- Joey Schusler

It was a beautiful experience. A true challenge, a test of all the adventures I have ever been on to travel through such rugged terrain. It was a trial of constant judgement and decision making, which is the basis for a true expedition into the unknown. It was where friendships are forged so deep and so strong. Throughout the process, my childhood wish of having brothers seems to have been finally granted. A stark contrast of visual delight with a heavy dose of cold, hunger, utter dampness, and a polite wish for the wind to stop for just a few minutes.

Days melded together. We committed to running some gorges after long side hikes searching to see what lay beneath the rim. That turned out to be some of the rowdiest paddling I had ever done. Needless to say, I swam more than once, but it was reassuring to have the Lacy bros close at my side to manage the risks. Eventually, we were spat out wet, tired, and cold, in perhaps the most otherworldly and incredible place I had ever seen - Thórsmörk. Jagged volcanic incisors, coated in fluorescent green, formed ridges up to some of Europes largest glaciated regions. They spanned as far as the eye could see. We had made it out of the canyons - boats and bodies all intact.

From here, it was another day’s float out to the Atlantic in flat water, and a miles wide maze of braided channels. From the ground, the landscape seemed moon like and bleak, but from overhead with the drone, it looked like an intricate neural network. Hours on end we paddled, recounting the stories of the wild whitewater we had navigated. It had been nearly ten days, and we were just now about at the ocean.

Upon reaching the sea, the adventure didn’t finish without one last hoorah. Mason and Spencer paddled right out into the surf of the mighty north Atlantic, only to catch a few big waves, and get slammed right back to the beach in a goofy loose fashion only the Lacy bros could pull off. We laughed, had a driftwood fire on the beach, and recounted a lifetime of adventures together - this one being really the crowning achievement and culmination of them all.

To see a river from source to sea, start as a trickle, and end with countless braided channels a mile wide was something unreal. Only through seeing every tributary and mile of the river can you really understand an ecosystem like this.

Joey Schusler is a professional adventure athlete, photographer, and award winning filmmaker from Boulder, Colorado. His adventures have taken him to some of the wildest places on earth. He’s been a Kokopelli ambassador since the early days of the brand, and has an adventure list that just keeps on growing, even as he continues to tick them off.