Iceland, Here I Come

Nine years ago Randy and I took an unforgettable journey to Iceland, a country that had long captured my imagination. On a bit of a whim, we decided to take a four-day horseback-riding tour not far from Reykjavik. An avid rider in my youth, I had not been on horseback much in the nearly twenty years since leaving home for college. Randy’s exposure to horses was limited to one year of jumping instruction just after college. It was our last exotic trip before becoming parents: that fall we would travel to South Korea on the greatest adventure of all – to meet Kun-Woo.

We rode on the famed Icelandic horses, descendants of those first introduced by the Vikings over one thousand years ago. By 1100, in an effort to prevent the spread of bubonic plague, all further importation of livestock was banned. Because of its isolation, the breed is one of the purest in the world: like the country’s cows and sheep, these horses suffer from few of the infectious diseases that threaten horses elsewhere. The flies are not known to carry disease. Therefore, if an Icelandic horse is exported to another part of the world, he may never return to his home. In fact, visiting riders must bring new or disinfected boots and other equipment, so that no foreign organisms are introduced. The Icelandic horse is renowned for its levelheaded disposition, its flowing and luxuriously thick mane and tail, and its five natural gaits. Not only do these equines walk, trot, and canter like other horses, but they also tölt and pace. It is the celebrated tölt that allows for wonderfully smooth, long days of riding. In this four-beat gait, the hooves move in the same pattern as in the walk, but at variable speed. One or two hooves are always on the ground, so there is no suspension, resulting in a smooth, virtually bounce-free ride.

If you have read this far, you are wondering, “What does this have to do with sheep, this is the Baablog after all?” Well, the answer is clear. Icelandic horses love to work, and perhaps their most important job is rounding up the sheep each autumn, bringing them back to the farmers after a summer spent in the country’s interior. Iceland is a little like our Wild West. Large flocks and herds still range freely. Horseback riding is much more macho, in fact, it strikes me as male-dominated in Iceland – and the Icelanders remind me a bit of cowboys. The réttir, as the roundup is called in Icelandic, is a cultural event of great importance, held on September weekends so that people can return to their childhood villages to help and celebrate. It was traditionally men’s work, but now many more women join in. Not so long ago, when the villagers were more isolated, réttir was often the place to meet eligible members of the opposite sex.

You have probably heard that sheep far outnumber humans in Iceland, by a margin of 4 to 1. (Human population is only 319,000.) People and their domesticated animals live mainly on the coasts, with the highest concentration in the south, where as much grassland as possible is reserved for the hay that will feed the animals in the winter. So as soon as the climate allows it, the sheep are sent inland to roam and graze freely. In mid September riders collect the sheep, driving them down from the more mountainous regions into large sheepfolds in the valley; there they are sorted and returned to their farmers. (This activity is known as draga í dilka.) In turn, each farmer decides which lambs will be kept for the winter and breeding, and which will be sent to the slaughterhouse. Given the popularity of Icelandic lamb, I imagine that the majority of these creatures will be marked with the traditional red cross on their forehead. Their lives may be short, but they are spent roaming free with their mothers in idyllic surroundings eating grass. It sure beats an industrial feedlot.

Of course, the sheep deserve equal, if not more, time on the Baablog. Icelandic sheep developed as a breed in much the same way as the horses: the Vikings also introduced their ancestors in the tenth century, and they too developed in striking isolation. The Icelandic sheep is one of the purest breeds of all livestock. Domestically, they are raised primarily for meat, but internationally they are known for their wonderful, double-coated, virtually waterproof fleece. They are classified as a primitive breed, and it is their fleece that my Shetland sheep compete against in fiber judging contests. The outercoat of the wool is called tog, the finer undercoat, thel. My wonderful new reference book, The Fleece & Fiber Sourcebook by Deborah Robson and Carol Ekarius, explains that Icelandic fleeces shorn at different times of the year feel different to the hand and spin up in varied fashion. Commercially prepared yarn contains both kinds of wool and results in those wonderful, thick, nearly water-repellent Lopi sweaters. I also learned that lopi refers to unspun fiber that was traditionally knitted like spun yarn.

The reason I am rambling on about all of this is that I will be participating in the réttir next weekend. There are numerous roundups, some of which take extra riders, tourists, and hangers-on in SUVs. I have been told that the weather can be extreme, varying between sunshine and downpour each day. The high temperature will be in the fifties, if we are lucky. We will ford rivers, lead our horses up steep hillsides, and do out best to use the horses to gather the sheep who have spread out to far-flung locations. We will be in the saddle many hours each day. One description I read said not to expect non-stop action: some shepherds may have to hold their position for hours on end. Of the five planned days of riding, three will be spent actively gathering and sorting sheep. I am sure I will learn a lot about both sheep and horses.

I plan to post updates from the trip on the Baablog, assuming I have a good wireless connection, remember to bring all the right cables, and am not too exhausted at the end of each long day. I plan on spending part of each evening in as many hot pots and pools filled with Iceland’s famed geothermal-heated water as I can.

If you would like to follow along on Google Maps, just search for Hengill, South Iceland. That is the volcano around which we will be riding. Also look for Selfoss further southeast, where our farm base is located, and Hvergerthi, a larger town and the center of Iceland’s geothermal activity and greenhouses, which supply much of the nation’s vegetables.

I arrive in Reykjavik on Wednesday, the 14th, and head to the farm on the evening of the 15th. We ride on Friday to get comfortable with the horses and then round up sheep Saturday and Sunday. Monday morning we sort and presumably celebrate in Icelandic style. A fun, surprise ride is planned for Tuesday. And I fly home on the 21st.

Thanks to Linda, Becky, and Holly, and extra carrots for Tinna, for all their help in getting me ready for this adventure. Wish you could all come along.

Stay tuned as the Baablog hits the road. Join me, won’t you?