When I moved to Iceland more than two years ago, I settled in northern Snæfellsnes - a harsh place, nature-wise. I explored the rest of the island in summer, and for a long time I thought there was no autumn here - at least not the kind I know from Poland. People even talk about just two seasons - summer and winter - and the switch, in April and October, is celebrated. A short October trip deeper into West Iceland changed my mind - autumn here can be very bold.
Leaving Snæfellsnes, I left behind snow-covered peaks and a monochrome landscape. Then I crossed the short Vatnaleið mountain pass and, suddenly, a different world; within twenty minutes the weather shifted, the snow vanished, and the colors changed.
After passing Borgarnes - the administrative center of the Western Region - I turned left onto a road I’d always just driven past on trips to and from Reykjavík, and soon the landscape softened - trees appeared, then shrubs - and I was delighted.
My first longer stop was at the Deildartunguhver hot springs, which you can view from a boardwalk; right next door there’s a natural geothermal bath, where I decided to spend a while. I loved it, especially the lack of any chlorine smell or other chemicals - not needed when the water comes straight from a geothermal source.
After a rest, I drove to two waterfalls - Hraunfossar and Barnafoss - about twenty minutes from the springs, and it was the best decision. The shapes, the color of the water, the autumn setting - it truly knocked me off my feet.
Hraunfossar isn’t one drop but hundreds of thin streams seeping from under a lava field and flowing into the Hvítá River - in a way the “waterfall” is a long stretch of riverbank. The water is milky blue - fed by the Langjökull glacier - making an otherworldly contrast with the gold-red of autumn and the black rock.
A path runs along the bank and the feeling is hard to describe; I’ve seen many waterfalls in Iceland, but I don’t think any had this fleeting, almost elvish charm.
A few minutes' walk upstream, you can find Barnafoss - not a typical waterfall either. Here the river narrows sharply - the channel is rocky and deep - and the pent-up water roars below, shoots through rock chutes and steps, and turns into milky-blue foam.
Barnafoss means “Children’s Waterfall” - the legend tells of two children from a nearby farm who tried to cross a natural rock bridge over the rushing current and fell, and soon after the bridge was gone - a mother’s curse or an earthquake, stories differ - and today there’s a metal footbridge for visitors.
I wished I had more time! Just a few minutes’ drive away is Húsafell - a great base for nearby trails - and beyond that are lava caves you can visit, then the wild emptiness and the glaciers. All this just three hours from home - I have to come back.
I drove home happy, passing landscapes that felt calm and pastoral - without the drama Iceland so often throws at you. Once again I realized how varied this young volcanic island is. My appetite for discovering its lesser-known corners only grows.
Icelandic stories:
A year of transition - small trips and moving to Iceland
Where my home is - "Iceland in miniature"
Winter at my place - not as scary as they said
Chasing spring in Grundarfjörður
Wolf Beans: purple beauty or invasive species? A trip to Ingjaldshóll
Welcome to Mars: Kerlingarfjöll Mountains
Katla's tongue – Sólheimajökull Glacier
In the shadow of the glacier: the stunning Þakgil campsite
Moss and ice: the road east
Basalt and turquoise: Stuðlagil Canyon, East Iceland
Cracked earth - driving to Stykkishólmur
Off the beaten path: Hafrahvammagljúfur Canyon and the hot spring shower
The road to Mývatn: through rain and wilderness
Around Lake Mývatn (1) - Víti Crater and the Hverir geothermal field
Around Lake Mývatn (2) - the monochrome world of Hverfjall
Around Lake Mývatn (3) - Leirhnjúkur: a walk on warm ground
On the way home - Goðafoss, the waterfall of the gods
North Iceland - a small harbor and a basalt coast: Hauganes and Kálfshamarsvík