Clocked Out, Clipped In, And Climbing Mt. Esja

Testing Iceland’s first via ferrata

One Thursday afternoon, I find myself balancing on a slippery rock somewhere on the outskirts of Reykjavík. One wrong move and, if it wasn’t for a safety harness, I’d be tumbling down this cliff, hoping for a quick and merciful death. Below me, mist drapes the valley. Above, two noisy seagulls shriek, reminding me I’m not exactly welcome on their territory. My muscles ache, heart is beating faster, and if I’m honest, I’m this close to giving up. “Find a nice place to stand. Don’t fall down. A bit embarrassing to do it here,” says a calm voice right next to my head.

Esja just got interesting again

The voice belongs to professional adventurer, and today my guide, Haraldur Örn Ólafsson. As he speaks, both of us, plus three of my Grapevine colleagues, are clipped to a steel cable running along the side of Mount Esja. This rather unusual way of hiking this local favourite, been-there-done-that mountain, is thanks to its newly opened Fálkaklettur Via Ferrata trail, the first of its kind in Iceland.

Haraldur Örn Ólafsson

For those of you who haven’t heard this Italian-sounding phrase before, “via ferrata” (which is, indeed, Italian) translates to “iron way.” Quite literally, it’s a mountain path made of metal cables, and sometimes also ladders, and bridges that are secured to the rock. You clip to the cable using a special harness and carabiners, and stay attached this way for the entire climb. The first via ferrata routes were built in Italy during World War I to help Italian soldiers navigate the Dolomites faster and more safely.

“We built it to last for 50 years, and we actually believe it’ll last for 100 years with some maintenance.”

“After the war, people started using these cables for recreation. You no longer had to be a super good climber to get up the mountain tops. That’s how it all started,” Haraldur explains. He’s no stranger to these sorts of adventures. One of the first Icelanders to summit Mount Everest, Haraldur completed expeditions to both the North and South Poles, hiked the highest peaks of all seven continents, and until recently, worked as a lawyer.

Sometime during Covid, Haraldur got a chance to guide a small group of locals to Hvannadalsjökull, Iceland’s highest peak. This rather unplanned endeavour turned out so successful that he ended up building a company around it. These days, he spends much of the year leading tours abroad to places like Peru, Colombia, Japan and Nepal. This via ferrata trail is his newest local venture.

Clipped in and hanging on

I, unlike Haraldur, haven’t hiked since last year — and climbing? Never exactly my strong suit. So standing in the parking lot, looking up at the mountain, let’s just say… I’m not feeling super confident.

“We built it for everyone,” Haraldur catches my hesitation. “You don’t need any special experience.” Sure, having some arm strength and stamina helps. But according to him, anyone from 14 to well into their 70s — maybe older, if they’re fit — can take it on.

We start with a short safety briefing, as Haraldur hands out the gear — a helmet, gloves, a harness, and a Y-rope with two carabiners. “There’s basically one rule in via ferrata — you should always be attached to the cable,” he says with a smile. “If you follow that one rule, you’re good.” He shows us how to use the carabiners — unclip and re-clip them, always one at a time — and explains that if you do fall, a shock absorber in your harness will kick in and keep you from plummeting all the way down.

The rules are simple, and honestly, there isn’t much that can go wrong — assuming you stay patient and remember to re-clip before moving. That, it turns out, is the hardest part.

With an elevation gain of 250 metres, the route starts off deceptively easy — but it doesn’t stay that way for long. The higher we climb, the steeper it gets. The weather keeps shifting every few minutes, and soon enough, rain slicks the rock and turns the trail to mud. A few times, perched on a narrow ledge, I freeze up, unsure where to put my foot next. Luckily, my colleague behind me is quick to help, and when he’s not there, Haraldur steps in without missing a beat. Every time doubt flickers across my face, he calmly points the way: “Left foot here, right foot there. And don’t forget to re-clip before you move.”

There’s something calming about having a guide who knows what they’re doing — and knows what you need to do, too.

A bridge in the sky

Whenever I’m not trailing behind the group, I try to ask Haraldur about his life. And let me tell you, this modern-day Shackleton doesn’t exactly like to brag.

“My craziest adventure was the North Pole expedition,” he says without hesitating for a moment. “My friend and I started out from Canada and the plan was to ski to the North Pole in two months, but, unfortunately, my friend got frostbite on his fingers and had to be evacuated.” I open my mouth to ask if he continued alone, and Haraldur nods, “We were together two weeks, and then I was alone for 43 days. Just pulling my sledge and hoping no polar bears would come knocking on my tent.”

“I no longer have FOMO about not making it to the top — because hey, I did it!”

For someone who’s been to Everest, Haraldur is humble enough not to mention it until I pull it out of him. “Mount Everest is really hard, but mostly hard on the summit day,” he says. “I would say the single most difficult day in my career has been the summit day on Everest, but the North Pole was difficult every day, for two months.”

It takes our group about two hours to reach a 37-metre-long suspension bridge connecting two sides of the mountain. To finish the route, you have to cross the bridge and take a different path down. There are gaps between the bridge’s steps, and it wobbles underfoot, which definitely gets the heart racing for those of us not so fond of heights. But the same principle of clipping carabiners to the steel cable ensures you stay safe throughout. For me, it was one of the easiest and most exciting parts of the trail. The trick is not to look down too much but to focus on the horizon — the foggy blue of Kollafjörður.

“The bridge got a lot of attention because it’s a really beautiful bridge,” says Haraldur with a cheeky smile. “People think that [the bridge] is the biggest challenge, but actually the climb is more of a challenge. It starts easy, and then there are a few more difficult sections in the upper part.”

What was truly challenging, though, was setting up the bridge. “It was a little bit crazy. When we started this project, we had never built anything like this before,” Haraldur admits. He and his friends first climbed the area, scouting for the best parts to set the trail. They had to clean it up, remove loose rocks, and drill the anchors. Some of the equipment needed for the construction of the bridge had to be flown to the top by helicopter.

“We wanted to do this with the highest safety measures possible,” Haraldur says. The team regularly inspects the anchors to ensure they’re secure, and occasionally, bad weather forces them to reschedule tours. “We built it to last for 50 years, and we actually believe it’ll last for 100 years with some maintenance.”

Worth every sore muscle

By the time we start making our way down, my gloves are soaked through. As much as I want to change into dry clothes, it’s on the descent that I finally feel like I’m getting into a routine. Finding gaps and footholds between cracks starts to feel more intuitive. I no longer have FOMO about not making it to the top — because hey, I did it! And while I know my whole body will be sore tomorrow, I’m already planning to come back.

Fálkaklettur Via Ferrata opened last September with a soft launch — barely a month of testing. This year, the trail is set to run from April through October, with both guided tours and a chance to do the trail on your own — under the condition that you have your own equipment and book the time in advance. The prices start at 4.500 ISK for an unguided tour and 19.900 ISK for a guided experience. While Iceland’s first via ferrata is getting ready for its first operating summer, Haraldur and his climbing buddies are already teasing additional, more challenging routes in the making.

“The outdoors, for some reason, has been my passion my whole life,” Haraldur tells me as he gives me a high five at the bottom. “This is what I love doing.”

Experience provided by Fálkaklettur Via Ferrata.

Book your tour at falkaklettur.is

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