Reserved for our subscribers
Report “The Messengers of the Forest” (3/6). While the northern European island has suffered from intense deforestation over the centuries, Icelanders are struggling to reforest between the volcanoes.
Route number 1, leading out of Reykjavik and into the south of Iceland, is a journey in itself. Geothermal fumaroles, lava deserts, glaciers and volcanoes follow one another to form a lunar-like landscape. It is home to some of the island’s most famous volcanoes, such as Eyjafjallajökull, which erupted in 2010 and blocked part of European airspace. The slightest heartbeat from its neighbor Hekla, one of the most active in Iceland, is also closely monitored.
Over time, like frozen rivers of stone, their ancient lava flows were covered with intense green lichen and moss, mingling with the purple blooming Alaskan lupins. Fighting against the wind, elegant terns fly across the road at full speed. Highlight of the show, lush waterfalls rise from the volcanic heights and add to the postcard appeal.
But one element plays the main role in this Iceland road trip: In the valleys at the foot of the glaciers nestle small forest areas, which we call “groves” or “woods”. They seem so rare and so fragile in this volcanic desert environment that they seem to have been placed here and there almost by accident. On this southern stretch of road number 1, around the Systrafoss waterfall, the village of Kirkjubæjarklaustur is home to a small massif on which stand the tallest trees in Iceland. Sitka spruces peak at nearly a hundred feet.
Elin Anna Valdimarsdottir lives right next to these big trees, in the oldest house in the village, built in 1885. Every day she trudges with a sporty step along the steep forest paths that cling to a cliff. “My father was a farmer and belonged to the small community that planted these spruce trees in 1949,” she says, touched. In front of a juicy smoked trout and homemade whipped cream, she proudly comments on old, faded family photos.
Elin Anna Valdimarsdottir (left) and Elisabeth Bernard, in the forest of Kirkjubæjarklaustur (Iceland), May 31, 2022. VASSILI FEODOROFF FOR THE WORLD
Elin Anna Valdimarsdottir, born in 1952, therefore grew up with these trees. “Finally they’ve grown a little bit better than me! ‘ she corrects, scoffing at her small size. “Icelandic forests are ‘human’ forests in that they are filled with the memory of those who planted them. They are not abandoned or disembodied spaces. They have even become places of great social importance over time,” analyzes Elisabeth Bernard, a young French anthropologist working in Iceland in the forest sector.
You have 66.92% of this article left to read. The following is for subscribers only.