View allAll Photos Tagged Haifoss
Join me on Facebook | Google+ | Twitter | 500px | Instagram
~~~~~~~~~
Iceland Waterfalls are perhaps the country's most recognizable series of attractions. They're everywhere! Its collection of waterfalls rivals any other country in sheer power and raw beauty. The falls range from powerful and wide river-type monsters like Dettifoss, Gullfoss, and Goðafoss to tall and narrow ones like Glymur, Háifoss, and Hengifoss. Moreover, the country sports classic waterfalls such as the rectangular Skógafoss as well as unique waterfalls such as the trapezoidal Dynjandi. And these are just the famous ones! There are countless other waterfalls tumbling by the Ring Road as well as many more that don't even have formal names!
Seljalandsfoss is one of the most famous waterfalls of Iceland. It is a unique waterfall on the river Seljalandsá, about 30 km west from Skógar. It drops 60 metres (200 ft) over the cliffs of the former coastline. There is a foot path behind it at the bottom of the cliff, but with a thin cascade. It is the only known waterfall of its kind, where it is possible to walk behind it. The waterfall is very picturesque and therefore its photo can be found in many books and calendars. Seljalandsfoss is situated in between Selfoss and Skógafoss at the road crossing of Route 1 (the Ring Road) with the track going into Þórsmörk. The path at the bottom of the cliff allows you to walk behind the waterfall without getting wet, or nearly not getting wet. It was bit tricky to capture this shot as the water is being constantly sprayed around. I have found one spot where the wind didn't blow so intensively and managed to make 0.3sec exposure to smoothen the falling water.
Camera Model: Canon EOS 5D Mark II; Lens: EF17-40mm f/4L USM; Focal length: 21.00 mm; Aperture: 22; Exposure time: 0.3 s; ISO: 50
All rights reserved - Copyright © Lucie Debelkova www.luciedebelkova.com
All images are exclusive property and may not be copied, downloaded, reproduced, transmitted, manipulated or used in any way without expressed, written permission of the photographer.
The waterfall Háifoss is situated near the volcano Hekla in the south of Iceland. The river Fossá, a tributary of Þjórsá, drops here from a height of 122 m. This is the second highest waterfall of the island (Wikipedia)
The wide angle version of háifoss waterfall showing all 122m of cascading water of the river Fossa flowing into the Þjórsárdalur valley.
The hike down to the base of haifoss is quite an arduous experience as it winds down into the deep gorge created by the Fossa river but it's well worth the sweat and toil.
The steep sides of the gorge enclose the waterfall which in turn amplifies the noise and creates a wonderful atmosphere.
As much as I preferred the close up shots of the fast flowing water this wider scene showing the entire waterfall and rainbow does offer a sense of scale and yes i did get wet feet!
After visiting Bruarfoss we continued our journey towards another well-known waterfall called Háifoss. I was hoping to be there around sunset, because the light in the valley can be amazing around there. We managed to be there half an hour before sunset, but the sun had already disappeared and it even started to rain a bit. Then suddenly the sky started to open again and a warm glow was getting visible on the horizon. Even some fog started to roll in and I quickly set up my tripod. It only lasted for 5 minutes or so, before the fog and the clouds completely blocked the last light. While I had hoped for more direct sunlight beforehand, it turns out that I like the soft glow just as much, because this also gives a lot of atmosphere. I used a wide angle for this classic shot and even though I think there’s a lot of depth in this photograph, standing on the edge of this cliff cannot be captured with a camera. Or not by me anyway, what a landscape…
Thanks for having a look! All faves and comments are highly appreciated!
The base of Háifoss waterfall focussing on the power of the water as it descends 122m and pummels the floor and surrounding boulders.
We were fortunate to be able to get into the highlands in October of 2022. On our way, we stopped at Háifoss, a waterfall situated near the volcano Hekla in southern Iceland, and, after a short wait, the sun came out from between the clouds. Well worth the hike. 20221006 Waterfall in Highlands
Rather understandably, the steady trickle of visitors that make it to this lonely outpost tend to look in another direction. More often than not they point their cameras and phones in a southerly direction, taking in the grand vista of Haifoss and the huge canyon that leads away towards a distant coast. Here, at the edge of the place where the roads lead to Iceland's mysterious and untamed interior, you can get a sense of being completely alone, or at least you can when you choose to ignore the dozen or so other parties that came here instead of the leading Golden Circle attractions at Gulfoss and Strokkur.
Granni, the companion waterfall to the huge drop of Haifoss, is equally worthy of inspection, set under a grey moody sky against the dark brown slabs cast in sturdy layers of basalt columns. Here, the bright white cascade crashes and contrasts its way through sombre yet handsome tones towards the canyon floor. Contrasting tones that caught my eye and made me feel the shot was worth taking. Words don't really do justice to the sense of being here of course. At a right angle to the central element of your view, the preamble to the main fall is worthy of a capture in its own right, given enough time to explore the area more fully. How close you can get to it without falling into oblivion I can't say, so please don't write in if you or your loved ones suffer an unfortunate moment there.
Quite why we didn't get closer to the base of Granni during our meanderings through the bottom of the canyon tells a tale in itself perhaps. You can never have regrets, but I do wonder at the things we sometimes leave out - in this case driven by the obsession with capturing a focus stack or two from the base of the rainbow clad Haifoss. A few minutes of further clambering would have taken us around a corner and much closer to this beautiful creation by Mother Nature's architectural department at the canyon head. Even on what had been up until then a dry sunny day, we'd have probably taken a bit of a hosing by the competing drifts of spray, but if would have been a soaking worth suffering just to feel the rawness, the remoteness, and the utter grandeur of such a spectacular sight.
It was only after a period of ascent driven oxygen deprivation that we gazed back down towards the browns, greens and greys in front of us, where I took what I then saw as an afterthought - or a record shot as we sometimes like to call the creations that we don't expect to make the light of day. Of course, I took in the big view to the south - the one that features the 128 metre drop of Haifoss and the valley beyond towards the south coast. I have a small collection of raw files from there that might only produce a record shot - but then again you never know. I don't, because they're in one of that majority of untouched folders I mentioned in my last post.
So if you're heading this way and taking your 4 wheel drive across the bumpy track from road 32 to here, don't forget to take in the Lesser Spotted Granni. She's worth pointing your camera at with all manner of focal lengths. You might just be surprised to find an image that you weren't quite expecting on your SD card later.
I recently enjoyed a gentle stroll through the archives and decided to re-visit some of my efforts from Iceland three years ago (P8280109)
Check out my gallery at www.pixael.com/en/pictures if you want to see more pictures.
You can follow me on
https://www.facebook.com/giuseppemilophoto
https://twitter.com/pixael_com
https://instagram.com/pixael/
Having a great vista in front of you can be overwhelming, and makes it easy to overlook the details in the landscape. Often I do like intimate photographs even more than major landscapes, as I think they have a more timeless quality to them. But I have to admit in this case I like the grand vista from Háifoss more. Still, I like to show this dark image of one off the smaller waterfalls too. For me it has that intimate feel to it and it also complements the wide angle shot in telling a small story. Hope you like it too!
Thanks for having a look! All faves and comments are highly appreciated!
• Dieser Blick vom Háifoss ins Tal berührte mein Herz.
• This view from Háifoss into the valley touched my heart.
Ich fahre für ein paar Wochen zum Atlantik und wünsche euch allen eine gute Zeit. Bis dann...
I'm going to the Atlantic for a couple of weeks and I wish you all a good time. Until then...
Well I couldn’t resist. While I’m posting this dark and gloomy waterfall mini-series, which includes one from the Peak District that’s barely a trickle, it only seemed right to wind back the clock to another at the opposite end of the scale that’s really rather imposing. In all honesty I didn’t imagine that with four years having passed since I was last standing here beneath the mighty white curtains in my wellies, gazing up at the sheer power, that I wouldn't yet have returned to Iceland. I haven’t even finished sharing the stories from that adventure of a lifetime in September 2022, when Lee and I spent two weeks exploring Snaefellsnes, the Golden Circle and much of the south coast. And even though we had made our last call of the 2019 ring road marathon at Skogafoss, we couldn’t resist another visit. Even if we did have to use up most of our patience reserves while we waited for a gap in the human traffic that might leave only two or three people needing to be cloned out of the scene later on. Photography - it’s just one lie after another at times. At least when you’ve got your welly boots on you can shift yourself to the left a bit and screen most of the other visitors from your frame in a more honest kind of way.
Cards on the table, hands in the air and all the rest of it; I really love Skogafoss. It might be an obvious kind of waterfall to be besotted with, but I don’t really care about being predictable on this one. The first time I saw it with my own eyes, late on a July evening in the season where sun rose above the horizon barely two hours after it had disappeared the night before, I was transfixed by its film star looks. It’s not the tallest waterfall I’ve visited in Iceland - Haifoss is almost double the height of Skogafoss, but there’s something undeniably satisfying about standing at its base and watching the shards of icy white water plunging over the precipice, releasing clouds of mist that hang around the recess in the cliffs, quickly spreading a damp film over everyone who dares to wander within range.
Meanwhile behind you is another deceit in the form of an enormous car park that used to be free (not anymore), chock full of tour buses and rental cars, a hotel, a bistro, and if you're lucky, a fish and chip van, which is only “how much?” expensive. In Iceland, “how much?” expensive is a good thing, because it gets a lot worse. In fact when I come to think of it, apart from if you’re self catering, living on pasta and mushrooms from the nearest Bonus supermarket, “how much?” expensive is about as good as it gets really. Restaurant prices go right up to “I only wanted to order a burger and chips, not make a hostile takeover bid for the entire restaurant” expensive. You might need to pack a small mattress into your case and place it strategically on the ground in front of you so you can pass out without risking broken bones whenever you’re perusing a menu. But this is Iceland, resources are scarce, and it’s a long way from anywhere. You didn’t come here because you were expecting a bargain basement bucket and spade all inclusive fortnight with lashings of cheap lager did you? If anything this northern land seems to have become even more wallet sapping than ever now - but you can still make it just about bearable with a bit of advance planning.
I’m glad I had the opportunity to come to places like Skogafoss before Iceland went even further into overdrive. I took a look at annual visitor numbers because I was curious, and learned that 2022 was a low point in the trend, if you exclude the two years beforehand when the pandemic made the world grind to a halt. Since then the numbers have gradually ticked upwards again. Still, there’s a big untamed wilderness out there where you can find somewhere much quieter than the big ticket locations as long as you’re equipped for whatever the hostile Icelandic landscape might throw at you. Even right here, if you can muster up the energy to climb the stairway to the right hand side of Skogafoss, it's possible to escape the crowds and head towards the Highlands on the unpronounceable Fimmvörðuháls trail, where there are a lot more waterfalls of all sizes to see.
Háifoss is the third highest waterfall in Iceland, about 128 meters high and is located on the edge of the highlands in the south Iceland.
Háifoss is 122 meters high and is situated in Fossá river, which is a spring water tributary of the glacial river Þjórsá, Iceland's longest river.
In the middle of the photo if you take closer look you can see sheeps climbing for i don´t know what but they don´t always go the easiest way to find the perfect grass to eat
Haifoss is a 122m high waterfall situated near the Hekla volcano.
Its really worth the 10km hike to get there from the road if you dont drive a 4x4. The hike along the Fossà river, across a large scenic valley is beautifull and very quiet. It takes you first to Gjaïn wich is a little oasis and also very nice place for a short hike and then its is 8km from there to the waterfall. The hike is not that hard cause its mostly flat but its a total of 20km round trip, wich is to consider when the weather is not friendly !
All right reserved / No use without my autorisation
© Damien DESCHAMPS
Háifoss is a waterfall situated near the Hekla volcano in southern Iceland.
The waterfall Granni is next to it
The river Fossá, a tributary of Þjórsá, drops here from a height of 122 m. This is the fourth highest waterfall of the island, after Morsárfoss, Glymur and Hengifoss.
The day we moved to base camp three was always going to be a bit of an adventure. Now I look back at the notes, which confirm how long the journey was, especially in a land where the speed limits are positively pedestrian. From the Efra Sel Hostel at Fludir in the Golden Circle, we'd be driving 439km, or for five and a half hours as Google Maps informed me, eventually reaching the loneliest outpost of the trip at Stafafell Cottages, roughly halfway between the highlights on the road from Vestrahorn to Eystrahorn. Once we'd thrown in a lunch stop at Vik and decided upon which of the many interim attractions we'd visit along the way, an extra three hours or more would be added to the long day of driving ahead. We even pulled very briefly into a rammed car park at Skogafoss, just for a recce rather than anything more immersive at this stage. Here we were greeted by a rainbow that spread itself across the base of the waterfall, much as the one at Haifoss had done the day before. But unlike the far more remote Haifoss, the space was full of people, so much so that we didn't even take the cameras out of the packs. I don't think I even bothered with a phone snap.
Driving from west to east along the south coast of Iceland is an experience you're unlikely to forget, especially on a clear day when the landscape opens up ahead of you in full glorious technicolour. The further you proceed, the more magnificent it seems to become as on the left hand side mountains emerge from the horizon to greet you, ever more foreboding as you go. On this clear sunny day, we were only a few minutes out of Vik before the Vatnajokull glacier, which covers eight percent of the entire surface of Iceland rose to beckon us across the plains ahead, where it sat for the better part of two hours as we slowly reeled it in towards us. As we made the final approach, the long icy fingers of Skaftafell and Svinafellsjokull reached down towards the ground from their peaks to say hello, inviting us to stop at the latter, a decision mainly driven by the fact that we didn't have to pay to park there.
Back on the road, resisting the temptation to stop as the tell-tale single span suspension bridge announced we were passing the glacier lagoon at Jokulsarlon, we pressed on, fully in the knowledge that the chances of a sunset shoot were rapidly diminishing. It was a situation made ever more frustrating by the arrival of what might have been the most appealing golden hour we'd had so far. The last hour brought soft warm tones to the front lit mountains ahead, by which time we knew the only opportunity we'd get that evening was to head straight down the track to Batman's lair.
I'd only discovered the existence of Brunnhorn after booking our accommodation, so I was delighted to see that a lesser known highlight of the region was quite literally just across the road from our home for the next four nights. At this moment I'm going to allow you to pause for a period of up to seven nanoseconds while you attempt to deduce for yourself why it's commonly know as "Batman Mountain." Got it? We'll move on then. As you can see, by the time we finally got to our spot, we had moved convincingly into the depths of the blue hour, and although we still weren't quite over the disappointment of not having arrived even fifteen minutes earlier, there was still a shot waiting to be stolen from the approaching night. In the stillness of the evening, a long exposure delivered the reflections and soft peachy tones of the horizon that made the moment one worth recording.
In retrospect, I'm now quite content that we didn't arrive here with enough time to go elsewhere. We'd have probably pushed on to Eystrahorn, where we spent the following afternoon and evening with a degree of success. Although we came back here a couple of times as an aperitif to the main events at either Eystrahorn or Vestrahorn that would follow, I'm not so sure we'd have dedicated an entire evening shoot to it. So, in this way, Batman had his moment in the spotlight, bathed in blue reflections before the dusk vanished into darkness. After all, there's always a positive to be found when you reflect on things later.