Wind, Rivers, and the big green mountain
- Matt McGee
- Feb 22
- 6 min read
Updated: Mar 9
I've wanted to visit Maelifell, also know as the big green mountain in Iceland, for years. It's striking in all the photos I've seen of it... imagine brilliant solid green pyramid/cone jutting out of a black sand plain that stretches for miles in all directions, and it's standing as a sentinel guard to the Myrdalsjokull glacier behind it.
The problem is getting to the dang thing.
Iceland has many beautiful and diverse landscapes all contained on a relatively small location considering it's all on an island. While these locations require a ride in some sort of vehicle for anywhere from 1 to 6 hours, you're on a paved road, and always not far from a warm hotel room and a helping of skyr or some arctic char. If you're going to Maelifell, this is not the case.
My journey to Maelifell began with an Instagram DM to my friend Joe Shutter. Joe and I share a passion for adventures in remote and cold locations, watches, and 80's hair metal. But more importantly, Joe has a modified 4x4 vehicle capable and driving off road, crossing rivers, negotiating rough terrain, and it looks bad ass while doing all this. Vehicles headed to Maelifell will be in for quite the journey, and need to be equipped to traverse the challenging terrain. You need high clearance vehicle with a snorkel (a modification that moves the vehicle's air intake from under the hood to above the roof, which allows you to drive in the rivers and cross them), and Joe's Defender had both. I set a date, we set an itinerary, and I booked my flight to Iceland.
Upon arrival, Joe met me at the airport in Keflavik, and after a brief stop at the duty free shop for Woodford Reserve bourbon, we were off.
You should know that Maelifell is only accessible in summer, usually between July and September because the conditions of the roads make them pretty much impassable for even the most well equipped vehicles and skilled drivers. We planned our journey near the end of February so that the snow had melted, but before it started accumulating in the fall.
We headed east for a few hours along the ring road in Iceland. This part of the journey was on the paved roads, but once we started to head into the interior of the country, our journey on the F Roads began. The F-roads (Fjallvegir) are unpaved, mountainous gravel roads primarily providing access to the remote highlands and interior. Before heading off the paved road and onto the F Roads, you first let some air out of the tires to increase their surface area, which in turn gives them more grip, and it also make the drive a little more comfortable while driving across washboard surfaces.
The F Roads had us bouncing in our seats and bracing for impact as we crossed the uneven landscape with Motley Crue and Van Halen and a backdrop soundscape while our innards were jostled and rattled. Eventually we came to our first impediment... a river.
Rivers in Iceland restrict limit access to many locations in the highlands and interior of the country to those traveling in a vehicle equipped to cross them, with a skilled driver at the helm who has the skill, knowledge, and grit to navigate a raging river. Every year someone (usually a tourist) thinks they can cross one of these rivers, and ends up literally in over their head and, well, let's just say they won't be on their return flight home. So you must be careful and smart.
Joe pulled the Land Rover to the waters edge, and put it in park. He surveyed the river looking for patterns in the water that would indicate a large rock below the surface, areas that would be too deep for his vehicle, and checking the opposite shore for tire tracks indicating a previous crossing and a path of exit. Once he had a path in mind, he popped the clutch and crept forward into the racing torrent.
When I saw that crossing this river was once of the most jarring experience I've had in any vehicle, I'm including the Scream Machine at Six Flags Over Georgia and the crossing from Florida to Grand Bahama Island in squall that tossed this ship all over the place. It was impossible to keep my bearings and everything that wasn't tied down was strewn all over the car as the water outside was creeping higher and higher until it was almost even with the window. Joe kept his eyes fixed on the opposite shore, and wrestled with the manual transmission as he traversed the river. Soon the level of the water began to lower, the vehicle began to stabilize, and the water poured off the vehicle. We were back on terra firma.
This process was repeated a few times interspersed between miles of bumpy roads, but the big green mountain was still nowhere to be seen. At one particular crossing, this time only a small stream, we had to stop and put the drone in the air to document us crossing over the top of a waterfall!!! So cool.
Eventually, the green cone because visible on the horizon, growing larger and larger and we moved towards it is if pulled by an invisible force like that tractor beam in Star Wars.
Maelifell stood like a pillar of green fortitude rising from the black earth below it. The contrast was stark and palpable. It has stood there through the ages stoic and unflinching not caring if any being was there to observe its tenacity and beauty.
Once we were close enough, I got straight to work. The buzzing of our drones filled the air, and momentarily again silent as the flew into the sky and out of earshot. The view of the majestic landmass from the perspective of the air was inspiring to say the least. I had finally stood in the presence of and taken in the enormity of its presence.
The light grew scarce, and it was time to set up camp for the night. Maelifell has stood for eons, and would be waiting for us again in the morning.
We found a nice flat patch of land on top of a small hill, and decided this would be great to rest and reflect on the day. Joe pulled out a Heimplanet tent, which essentially is an inflatable igloo both in form and in function, and would serve as my housing for the evening.
Soon the sizzle of steaks and the roiling boil from a pot filled the air. You know how people often say that food tastes better when you're camping, well, that night was dinner at a Michelin star restaurant. Simple yet succulent was the meal, and the vibes at this "restaurant" were top tier.
As night set in, an oil lamp lit our encampment, and the mood was unrivaled, it was then that I decided some of the Woodford Reserve would be perfect. I poured the aged liquid and felt the warmth spread through my chest.
I crawled into the Heimplanet, and into my not-warm-enough-for-these-conditions sleeping bag. Outside the winds began to organize, as winds in Iceland do, and blend into a tempest. Soon the rain, or was it sleet now, began to pelt against my inflatable shelter. The walls compressed in on me as the howling winds swirled through the camp.
You might think that I am crazy for not only willingly, but intentionally doing something like this. Yes, it was col. Yes it was uncomfortable. Yes I had to cross those treacherous rivers again to return to civilization. And, no, I didn't get much sleep, I never felt more alive. As I lay there freezing, I thought to myself "this will be a great story one day." Give me moments like this any day over a 5 star resort on the beach.
It's moments like this that you'd better take mental note of because it is special. Joe and I (plus maybe a few other people in one other vehicle we saw) were the only people on earth to experience this place at this time and under these circumstances. The majesty of Maelifell, the journey to get here, the food and drink all came together to make moments like this become highlights in our lives. Take note. Etch this moment into longterm memory. And, yes, when I returned I had created some amazing images and video. They are what remain of monumental experience.
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