Testing Iceland’s First Via Ferrata
On a brisk Thursday afternoon, I find myself teetering on a slick rock face on the outskirts of Reykjavík. One misstep, and without my safety harness, I could plummet down the cliff, wishing for a swift and merciful end. Below, the valley is shrouded in mist, while above, a pair of agitated seagulls squawk, clearly unimpressed by my presence. My muscles protest, my heart races, and, if I’m being honest, I’m this close to throwing in the towel. “Find a solid spot to stand. Don’t fall off. It’d be a bit embarrassing to go out like this,” quips a calm voice beside me.
Esja Just Got Interesting Again
This reassuring voice belongs to Haraldur Örn Ólafsson, a seasoned adventurer who is my guide for the day. As he speaks, three of my Grapevine colleagues and I are tethered to a steel cable that runs along the rugged face of Mount Esja. This unique approach to hiking—transforming a familiar local peak into a thrilling experience—is thanks to the newly inaugurated Fálkaklettur Via Ferrata trail, the very first of its kind in Iceland.
Haraldur Örn Ólafsson
For those unfamiliar with the term, “via ferrata” is an Italian expression meaning “iron way.” It refers to a mountain path outfitted with metal cables, ladders, and bridges secured to the rock. Climbers clip into this cable using a special harness and carabiners, remaining securely attached throughout the ascent. These routes originated in Italy during World War I, designed to help soldiers navigate the Dolomites with greater speed and safety.
“We built it to last for 50 years, but with proper maintenance, we believe it could endure for over a century.”
“Once the war ended, these cables began to see recreational use. Suddenly, summiting mountains was no longer the exclusive domain of expert climbers,” Haraldur explains. He’s well-acquainted with such adventures; a trailblazer among Icelanders, he has conquered Mount Everest, trekked to both the North and South Poles, and hiked the highest peaks on all seven continents. Until recently, he balanced these expeditions with a career in law.
During the COVID-19 pandemic, Haraldur had a chance encounter guiding a small group of locals to Hvannadalsjökull, Iceland’s highest peak. What began as an impromptu adventure blossomed into a thriving business, with him leading tours to places like Peru, Colombia, Japan, and Nepal. This via ferrata trail represents his latest venture closer to home.
Clipped In and Hanging On
Unlike Haraldur, I haven’t hiked since last year, and climbing has never been my forte. So, standing in the parking lot and gazing up at the mountain, my confidence is a bit shaky.
“We designed this trail for everyone,” Haraldur senses my trepidation. “No special experience is required.” Sure, having some upper body strength and endurance is beneficial. But according to him, anyone from ages 14 to well into their 70s—perhaps even older, if they’re fit—can tackle the challenge.
After a concise safety briefing, Haraldur distributes our gear—helmets, gloves, harnesses, and Y-ropes with two carabiners each. “There’s really one golden rule in via ferrata: you should always be attached to the cable,” he says, flashing a reassuring smile. “If you stick to that, you’re golden.” He demonstrates the carabiners—how to unclip and re-clip, one at a time—and reassures us that in the event of a fall, a shock absorber in the harness will ensure we don’t plummet completely.
The guidelines are straightforward, and honestly, the potential for disaster is minimal—as long as you remain patient and remember to re-clip before moving. That, as it turns out, is the trickiest part.
The route starts off deceptively simple, with a 250-meter elevation gain, but soon reveals its true nature. With each upward stride, the angle steepens. The weather shifts whimsically every few minutes, turning rain into slippery rocks and muddy paths. Perched on narrow ledges, I freeze at times, uncertain of my next step. But my colleague behind me is quick to lend a hand, and when he’s not around, Haraldur discreetly steps in. Each time doubt crosses my face, he calmly guides my steps: “Left foot here, right foot there. And don’t forget to re-clip before you move.”
There’s a soothing quality in having a guide who not only knows the terrain but also understands your anxieties.
A Bridge in the Sky
Whenever I’ve managed to catch up with the group, I seize the opportunity to learn more about Haraldur’s remarkable life. He’s the sort of person who doesn’t boast; his humility is striking.
“My wildest adventure was my expedition to the North Pole,” he reflects without flinching. “My friend and I set out from Canada with plans to ski to the North Pole in two months. But shortly into the journey, my friend suffered frostbite and had to be evacuated.” Before I can inquire further, he nods, confirming that he continued solo. “We were together for two weeks, and then I was alone for 43 days, dragging my sled and hoping that no polar bears would come knocking on my tent.”
“I no longer have FOMO about not summiting—because, hey, I did it!”
For someone who has conquered Everest, Haraldur remains refreshingly modest, only revealing his record once I pry it from him. “Mount Everest is undeniably tough, particularly on the day of the summit,” he clarifies. “I would argue the most grueling day of my career was summit day on Everest, but the North Pole was challenging every single day for two months.”
After roughly two hours of climbing, we reach a 37-meter-long suspension bridge that connects two sides of the mountain. To complete the traverse, we must navigate the bridge and then descend via a different route. The gaps between the bridge’s steps and its wobbling underfoot certainly quicken the heartbeat for anyone wary of heights. Yet, the same principle of securing carabiners to the safety cable ensures our safety throughout. For me, crossing the bridge was both an exhilarating and manageable highlight of the trail. The key is to avoid glancing down too frequently, focusing instead on the horizon—the fog-kissed expanse of Kollafjörður.
“The bridge has drawn a lot of attention because of its stunning design,” Haraldur shares with a playful grin. “People assume crossing it is the biggest challenge, but honestly, the climb itself presents more obstacles. It starts easy, but there are some tougher sections higher up.”
What truly posed a challenge was constructing the bridge. “It was a bit of a mad undertaking. When we embarked on this project, none of us had built anything like it before,” admits Haraldur. His team first climbed the area to identify the best path for the trail, clearing loose rocks and drilling anchors. Some materials for constructing the bridge were airlifted by helicopter.
“Our goal was to implement the highest safety standards,” Haraldur insists. The team conducts regular inspections of the anchors to ensure their security, and inclement weather can sometimes force the postponement of tours. “We aimed for a lifespan of 50 years, but with diligent maintenance, we believe it could potentially last for a century.”
Worth Every Sore Muscle
By the time we begin our descent, my gloves are soaked through. As tempting as it is to change into dry clothes, it’s during the return journey that I finally start finding my rhythm. Discovering footholds and navigating the rocky terrain becomes increasingly intuitive. I no longer feel a sense of loss for not reaching the summit—after all, I’ve made it! While I anticipate aches all over tomorrow, my mind is already racing with plans to return.
The Fálkaklettur Via Ferrata officially opened last September with a soft launch, allowing just a month for testing. This year, the trail operates from April through October, offering both guided tours and opportunities for independent exploration—with prior booking and personal equipment required. Pricing begins at 4,500 ISK for unguided tours and 19,900 ISK for guided experiences. As Iceland’s inaugural via ferrata prepares for another busy summer, Haraldur and his climbing companions are already teasing plans for additional, more challenging routes.
“The outdoors has been my passion for as long as I can remember,” Haraldur smiles, high-fiving me at the bottom. “This is what I truly love to do.”
Experience provided by Fálkaklettur Via Ferrata.
Book your tour at falkaklettur.is
