Within the span of a single hour, I’ve seen him scream, laugh, throw gear, and become engulfed in a full-blown temper tantrum all while standing knee-deep in the river. 

Thor is pissed—disappointed, confused and verging on berserker rage. It’s not the anger of the mythological, thunder-cracking, Old God of the North, but the head-shaking WTF of a 15-year-old, 16^th-generation Icelandic farmer named Thor. He can’t believe we are letting go of one of the most beautiful sea-run brown trout he’s ever seen. Waves of disbelief flow from him—that fish could feed his family plus a guest or two. Catch and release sounds like a fool’s folly while we stand in the middle of his river, in the middle of his valley, in a far-off Icelandic fjord…

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above There are some moments in Thor’s valley when the weather is crystal clear. Other times, a thick layer of ominous fog rolls in and makes this already dramatic landscape even more breathtaking.