I met Robert about fifteen years ago — maybe twenty — when he was working as a guide at the Tjuonajokk lodge, in Swedish Lapland. His trademark, beyond his qualities as a guide, is his permanent good humor, his unwavering smile, and an enthusiasm that never fades.
Today, he’s the one taking you to Iceland, into one of the island’s secret canyons. Not to chase salmon, but wild brown trout, in a river that has carved its way through lava flows and whose access is a true adventure in itself.
But what a treat it is, once you’re at the water’s edge, to fish for these impressively sized browns! One last thing: be careful not to swallow three pounds of gnats!
I hope you don’t have a fear of heights — and that your legs are in good shape… because you’re going to need them!
Deep in the Icelandic highlands, we find a river that feels untouched. A place carved over centuries into something too steep, too narrow, too wild to make sense. From above, it looks impossible. From below, it feels even more so. What starts as a careful climb turns into something else entirely. Tight ledges, blind drops, and water you hear long before you ever see it. And once you’re down there, there’s no easy way out. Just moving forward, pool by pool.
We thought the fish would be naive. They weren’t. Every trout sat deep. Every mistake mattered. One wrong step, one bad cast, and the whole canyon seemed to shut down. So we slowed it down. Changed flies. Backed off. Tried to earn every chance. And eventually, it came together. Not because it was easy, but because it wasn’t. This is one of those places that doesn’t feel real until you’re standing in it.