On Location with Mackenna Stang in Iceland

The Mýrakvísl canyon is one of the most remarkable places I’ve ever had the opportunity to chase fish. It winds through the northern landscape of Iceland, with water so clear it’s hard to tell where the shallows end and the depths begin. Bright green moss blankets volcanic rock, creating a surreal contrast of colors that makes you feel like you’ve stepped onto another planet. You have to sneak around carefully here because these fish spook easily. And from July to September, there’s a narrow window to target Iceland’s infamous Atlantic salmon as they move upstream to spawn.

I’ve fished the Mýrakvísl before for native Icelandic brown trout, but this was my first year chasing Atlantic salmon. As you walk along the canyon, the walls drop steeply around you, forcing a more technical approach. In some spots, a rope is the only safe way to reach the lodge-marked pools. Moving slowly and staying hyper-aware of your surroundings is crucial; one careless step can blow an entire pool.

My most memorable catch of the trip came when we spotted a small group of salmon from above on a bright, sunny afternoon. The fish were big and easy to see. But unfortunately, they were holding dangerously close to the rope descent. Climbing down to the pool would have spooked them instantly. I thought we were out of luck.

That’s when my guide, Isak, suggested an alternative. A narrow lip on the canyon wall (a spot few people had ever fished from) offered a chance. The only issue: it was barely wide enough for me, and I am not someone who thrives at heights. I hesitated.

But then I thought, “When will I ever get this chance again?” Opportunities like this are rare, and the fish don’t wait. So I swallowed my nerves and followed Isak down to the canyon’s edge.

Reaching the ledge took a slow, careful serpentine and a few deep breaths. Once I steadied myself, Isak handed me my setup: the 10’ 8-weight Redington EDC, paired with the 7/8 Ace reel. I’d been grateful for that 10-foot rod all trip, but never more than in this moment. From this position, I needed reach to cast downstream and across the canyon. The extra length of the EDC made it possible to roll cast cleanly, mend over awkward current seams, and keep my line off the canyon wall.

We started with a floating Red Francis on a micro-treble. The fish noticed it, but it wasn’t getting deep enough to truly tempt them.

Heart racing and trying not to slip, we switched to a weighted fly called The Friggi. Because I was so high above the river, moss kept catching on both my fly and line, forcing me to rethink my approach. Eventually, I decided to drop the fly straight down below me, and added a few stacked mends to let it sink and swing toward the salmon.

And then… BOOM. The fly stopped dead. For a split second, I thought I’d snagged a rock. But after setting the hook, the rod tip lunged toward the canyon and I realized it was a fish. My knees nearly buckled.

The excitement was immediate, but so was the fear. Now what? Fighting a salmon from a cliff is not a scenario you rehearse. I froze, terrified of losing my footing.

My dad and Isak coached me from above, encouraging me to slowly retrace my steps back up the canyon wall. It felt impossible. But with their help, and a lot of shaky breaths, we made a plan. Isak scrambled down the rope into the pool with the net. My dad positioned himself above me, ready to take the rod so I could move safely. I eased the EDC toward him, careful not to give the fish too much slack. The Ace reel’s drag stayed smooth and steady, keeping the pressure perfect.

By the time I reached my dad, Isak yelled up: he had landed the fish! A beautiful, powerful Atlantic salmon. Victory.

Adrenaline still surging, I shakily climbed down the rope to meet them. The salmon thrashed in the net, full of life, with a fierce kype and the unmistakable build of a territorial male. It was surreal. One of those rare moments when everything you’ve poured into this passion comes together.

A lot of pieces had to fall into place for this catch. My dad and Isak kept me calm, helped me move safely, and worked as a true team. But my gear mattered as well, and I don’t say that lightly. Fishing from a cliff, targeting a species I’d never fought before, demanded equipment I could trust.

The 10-foot Redington EDC was a lifesaver. That extra length gave me the control, reach, and leverage I needed; not just to make the cast, but to fight the fish without leaning dangerously over the edge. Paired with the Ace reel, which delivered smooth, steady drag at a critical moment, the setup handled the chaos better than I could’ve predicted.

When I first posted a clip of this catch, most people were supportive. But a few asked why I’d “risk my life” for a fish. My honest answer? Life is short. If you never step onto the ledge, literally or metaphorically, you may miss out on experiences that can change you.

I’d do it again in a heartbeat. That’s what fly fishing is all about: the thrill of pursuing elusive fish, the wild places it takes you, and the stories you never forget.