... it would be you, Hafrgilsfoss. With a name like that, I might even run for office.

I woke up with the sun (as if she ever went to bed) and started my day as giddy as a puppy swimming in a pool of bouncy balls. This section was beautiful. Stunning. Like nothing I’ve ever seen. Jökulsárgljúfur National Park – from the Asbyrgi Cliffs down to the famed Dettifoss. I skirted a furious silty river canyon through a volcanic maze in complete confusion. Why is it so sunny out? Shouldn’t I be trudging through snow and sleet?

It was impossible to stay focused… Every angle held a postcard view. A 7 rainbow kind of day.

I heard something raging inside the mountain. It wasn’t an echo… there had to be a waterfall hidden inside. A little ford where the pentagonal basalt columns came crashing across the river… what a delight.

And then I saw her, in the far distance, mist roaring above the canyon cracks… She was big, she was mighty, she was everything I wanted to be. All alone, not a soul in sight. I climbed up close for a midday shower. Life is complete.

I thought this was Dettifoss: Europe's most powerful waterfall located in Iceland's Northeast. I was a mile off, but I liked her better. Hafraglisfoss doesn't get the same expression of reverence as her big brother upstream. She is harder to reach (and pronounce). You have to climb to get to her. There's no parking lot or footpath easing the way. It's not that she's neglected, no, she's doing just fine on her own without the extra attention. A secret little gem. She's moving the same water down the same river; she's getting the job done. A nice reminder that we don't have to be the biggest, we don't have to be boastful, we don't always have to be number one.