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Iceland: Weeks 21 + 22

This is my first Iceland post that needed to span multiple weeks. In the previous fortnight I wrapped up everything for my first semester at the University of Iceland and my brother visited for five days. It was really fun to have him here, his first time in Iceland, and despite the very minimal amount of sunlight (~3.5 hours per day) we had a great time exploring the Reykjanes Peninsula and south coast.

When I met Isaiah at the airport, at a little past 7am, we still had at least 3 hours before the sun would start peeking above the horizon, so we caught up in a cafe before heading out. Iceland immediately showed off its weather diversity as we drove from drizzly Keflavík through the snow-covered lava fields of Reykjanes. The first stop was more of a conceptual one, but established the mind-blowing geological newness that is Iceland: a bridge between continents that connects the Eurasian and North American tectonic plates. The country is basically split in two by these plates, the source of volcanic activity that led to the creation of Iceland 20 million years ago and all the continued eruptions today.

Bridge between the Eurasian and North American tectonic plates

Near there is Gunnuhver, a geothermal area, where the mixture of snow, steam, and sunrise seemed like a fitting introduction to Iceland.

Gunnuhver geothermal area
Isaiah at the Gunnuhver geothermal area
A graveyard along the Reykjanes southern coast. During Christmas cemeteries in Iceland are lit up like this.

This time of year the sun never really stops rising or setting, but by the time we arrived in Grindavík it was light enough to see the impact of the nine dramatic eruptions that caused the town’s 3,700 residents to flee in 2023. The town is surrounded by newly constructed lava barriers, and in the city center there’s a fissure that cracked and shifted the street by a meter or more. New roads have been cut through the lava, and there are signs of rebuilding, but most residents haven’t yet moved back.

A new road cut through the lava field, seen from the top of a lava barrier.
Isaiah on a lava field from the 2023 eruptions.

Our next stop was Hveragerði, where we hiked into the mountains to the Reykjadalur thermal river. The sun had already started to set when we started around 2:30pm, so we packed headlamps for the walk back. That was smart, but it would have been even smarter for us to not leave our crampons in the car. The ~5 mile round-trip hike was icier than we anticipated, but beautiful, and soaking in the hot springs surrounded by snow covered mountains felt amazing.

The view over the geothermal valley
Reykjadalur hike
Reykjadalur hot springs area. This is the main site for soaking, with a boardwalk and minimal changing zones.

We stayed in Reykjavík that first night, and the next morning made headway down the south coast before sunrise so we could maximize the minimal daylight. The weather was cooperative throughout the trip, with very little rain or snow. The temperature was moderate, mostly just above freezing, but the wind got up to 40 mph. At times, it felt like pushing on a heavy door just to walk forward and twice it literally knocked me to my knees.

The south coast did not disappoint, and it’s truly the biggest payoff for a limited amount of time in Iceland. It’s amazing how many things are just off the ring road, and while these accessible sites are busy with tourists, even in winter, it wasn’t overwhelming. We went to Seljalandsfoss, Skógafoss, Sólheimajökull, and Reynisfjara before running out of daylight in Vík, and continuing the drive to our hotel in Hof.

For this first day, I have photosets on Instagram of horses, Sólheimajökull, and Reynisfjara.

A herd of Icelandic horses congregated along the road and were happy to see us. I love how they are so genetically specific and yet each one has such a distinctive look.
The Eyjafjallajökull icecap, underneath is the volcano that erupted in 2010 and caused 20 countries to close their airspace.
Obligatory waterfall selfie. Unfortunately, this time of year they don’t let you go behind Seljalandsfoss due to icy conditions.
Sólheimajökull glacier, which I went ice climbing on just a month previous. It was fun to come back so soon and see the changes in the icebergs and lagoon.
I brought my other camera lens (50–200mm) along for this trip to Sólheimajökull, which let me capture slightly different views of the glacier than when I was there previously with only my 23mm.
This ice arch is an example of something that I didn’t see last month, and it probably won’t be there a month from now.
Very rough seas and intense wind at Reynisfjara, the black sand beach.
Basalt pillars on the Hálsanefshellir cave.
Black sand beach with Dyrhólaey in the distance.

At sunrise the next morning we went to the Jökulsárlón glacier lagoon and Diamond Beach, where icebergs calve off the glacier and float out to the sea, washing up on the black sand. It’s a stunning place, with bright blue ice that feels surreal amid the immensity of the Vatnajökull ice gap. I have a photoset on Instagram with more images.

An iceberg just off shore that hadn’t been washed onto the beach yet. I saw a photo someone took two days after this that looked like it had broken in two, with a large piece on the sand.
Ice chunk on Diamond Beach in pre-dawn light.
Jökulsárlón glacier lagoon
Jökulsárlón glacier lagoon

Perhaps the most unexpected experience was going to the Fjallsárlón glacier lagoon and realizing it was frozen solid. The Jökulsárlón lagoon doesn’t freeze in winter, because it mixes with salt water from the ocean, so after cresting the hill that reveals Fjallsárlón it was almost hard to process what we were seeing: massive icebergs, frozen in place, with people walking amongst them.

It’s pretty amazing that in a short two-day trip we were able to visit three different outlet glaciers. Whether it’s winter or not, my top tip for the south coast of Iceland is to not miss Fjallsárlón, if you are going all the way to Jökulsárlón. It’s only 15 minutes west and an equally wonderful experience. I also have a separate photoset of Fjallsárlón on Instagram.

A frozen glacier lagoon at Fjallsárlón
The Fjallsárlón glacier
A blue-ice arch in and iceberg at the Fjallsárlón glacier lagoon

The final stop on our south coast tour was Fjaðrárgljúfur canyon, where a winding river has cut a scenic path. I somewhat sheepishly realized that I first learned about this place because it’s the splash screen on my banking app, which feels like finding out about national parks from MacOS wallpaper. But it’s a beautiful spot, and definitely worth the hour or so if you have the time (and daylight) to spare.

Fjaðrárgljúfur canyon

I have lots more photos, but this post is already very long. Overall, it was great to have Isaiah visit and nice to see spots on the south coast that I hadn’t yet visited during this time in Iceland. I went as far east as I’ve ever been, but no further. This Spring I’m hoping to break that barrier and make it all the way to the Eastfjords.

Outside of our roadtrip we walked around Reykjavík, which made me realize just how small it is. By day two of exploring the city we had gone to 80% of the areas I frequent, ate well, and avoided spending too much time in my tiny studio apartment. It’s always interesting to wander around a city with Isaiah because as an architect he sees things in the built environment that I don’t. We have similar but different designer afflictions: I spot the bad kerning on signs, he notices when courtyards don’t align. But he also looks up who designed the buildings, so now I realize that every day I walk by three or four buildings by Guðjón Samúelsson.

I’ll be traveling to the U.S. for the holidays, my first time leaving Iceland since I arrived in mid-July. I realized this week that my time here matches my longest living out of the country; I was in India during 2011 for the exact same time period. I’ll be in the States for three weeks, returning just before the next semester starts on January 12th. I’m probably going to take a break from writing here during that time. Happy new year to everyone that’s been reading this blog. I appreciate hearing from you, thank you for following along.

Noted & Done

  • Iceland will not take part in next year’s Eurovision, in protest of Israel’s participation.
  • UNESCO has added Icelandic swimming pool culture to its list of intangible cultural heritage of humanity.
  • Icelandic sculptor Steinunn Thórarinsdóttir did a talk at Scandinavia House in NYC last month and the video is now online.
  • Finished Shetland season 10, which was very much like every other season but that’s fine with me. I watch it as much for the landscapes as I do for the plot.
  • Finished my two research papers and will heartily recommend Zotero for managing sources, notes, and most of all footnotes. I honestly don’t know how I would have managed my footnotes and bibliography formatting without this tool. One of those pieces of software that you immediately can not imagine living without.

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Iceland: Week 20

My exams are done and my papers are getting very close. The last few weeks have been a big push to wrap up the semester but it looks like I’m on track to finish before my brother comes to Iceland this week. I’m excited to have him visit!

I finished watching a four-part mini-series about the life of Vigdís Finnbogadóttir, the former Icelandic president, which is streaming on RÚV with English subtitles. The show, which shares production and acting credits with the excellent Blackport, was really well done — and I’m getting good about recognizing filming locations in Reykjavík. Elected in 1980, Vigdís was the world’s first female head of state and in Iceland she was the first single woman allowed to adopt a child. I enjoyed getting more of her backstory since I see references to her all over town. For example, my oral exam for my class in Iceland’s Foreign Policy was held in a building on campus called Veröld – House of Vigdís.

Last night I saw Júlía Mogensen perform at Mengi and got to see a halldorophone being played for the first time. It’s a unique electroacoustic instrument that looks like a cello but incorporates positive feedback into the process of playing. It’s the brainchild of Halldór Úlfarsson, who takes an iterative approach to design, incorporating feedback from musicians and evolving it over time. I’ve been really enjoying the album Electroacoustic Works For Halldorophone by Martina Bertoni lately, so it was great to see it being played and get a better sense for how it works.

Júlía Mogensen playing a halldorophone at Mengi.

Noted & Done

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Iceland: Week 19

This was the main study week for my Theories of International Relations exam. I did a deep dive on four theories and packed my days by re-reading and quizzing myself to try and keep all the nuances straight. I’m covering Realism, Liberalism, Marxism, and Normative IR — including all the sub-theories and critiques within each one. The overlapping terminology can be tricky, with maybe a dozen different meanings of the word “liberal,” a half dozen variations on “hegemony.” It’s maddening that the mix of authors I’m trying to keep straight include Walt, Waltz, Walzer, and Wallerstein.

Photos from Ragnar Axelsson’s current show at Qerndu gallery

I did get out to an opening at Qerndu gallery for Ragnar Axelsson’s latest photography exhibition: Human. The ten photos in the show were previously selected for the 2023 Prix Pictet photography award for global sustainability, and feature people from Greenland, Siberia, and Iceland. Ragnar’s work is primarily focused on documenting the changing Arctic, from melting glaciers to people’s lives and culture. His book Faces of the North, one of my favorites, combines candid photographs and portraits with short stories about each person. I wrote about it on my Looking North blog back in 2020. He’s one of my favorite photographers, so I was pretty excited for the chance to meet him and see his work at full scale.

Christmas Cat in downtown Reykjavík

With Christmas season approaching, the city of Reykjavík has put up some sculptures in the center of town depicting Icelandic Christmas folklore such as the Christmas Cat and Yule Lads. I’m familiar with the less-than-happy endings of most Icelandic novels and movies, so I shouldn’t be surprised — but these stories are dark! Christmas Cat lurks around the countryside and eats people who have not received new clothes to wear for Christmas Eve. Yule Lads are a gang of 13 mischievous pranksters who steal from or harass people in different ways. Their mother’s favorite food is a stew made of naughty children.

That said, the Yule Lads also seem pretty funny. They have names that translate to things like Door Slammer, Sausage Swiper, and Doorway Sniffer. My favorite — the one I would choose to play in some kind of Icelandic Christmas pagent —  is Skyr Gobbler. He just really likes Icelandic yogurt.

Finally, here are a couple of photos I took recently where the sharp angle of the sunset created interesting illusions. In the first, a focused beam of warm light hits only a sliver of Mount Esja, making it look like the lights from a town are illuminating the base of the mountain.

The second is from the University of Iceland campus, where steam from the hot river is illuminated by sunset light compressed between an opening in the buildings. Combined with the almost black-and-white, frost-covered ground it looks like an explosion.

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Iceland: Week 18

It was strange and delightful for my social feeds this week to be filled with aurora from all over the United States! It seems that many of you got a better show than what I typically see in Iceland. That same solar storm showed up here too, but unfortunately not until the middle of the night, so I missed it.

This was my last week of classes for the semester and now I’m in a bit of a crunch mode as I study for two exams and write two research papers. This led me to realize how long it’s been since I took a test, which then made me feel old. I had to take the GRE for my application to Carnegie Mellon, but that was 20 years ago and my Masters in Interaction Design was entirely project and thesis-based. Which means my last time taking a test for a class was at Western Michigan in the late ’90s.

I have two exams to prepare for, both of which are formats I’ve never experienced before. My Theories of International Relations class is a 3-hour, closed book, essay-driven exam — four questions, four essays. Whereas my class on Iceland’s Foreign Policy is an oral exam, where I’ll pick a topic out of a hat and speak on it for 15 minutes. My class on Leadership in Small States had writing assignments every week, which were compiled and handed in instead of an exam.

The research papers are for my Arctic classes. Each are 5,000 words and framed around questions of my own choosing:

I shouldn’t be surprised, but this week I saw that Russ Vought has a new tactic to shutter the CFPB for good. It’s based on a bad-faith reading of the language in the Dodd-Frank Act that describes how the agency should be funded. The language in question directs the CFPB budget to come from the “combined earnings of the Federal Reserve System,” and Vought wants to interpret earnings to mean “profit” instead of “revenue.” They see this as some kind of genius move where they can redefine these terms and — proof! — CFPB has no budget and has to shut down, without Congressional approval. It’s not a new idea, they tried to kill the CFPB in 2024 with the same tactic. But back then the Bureau could fight back, whereas now it’s a self-inflicted blow by a criminal executive intent on destroying anything that actually helps people.

I know that CFPB is already effectively dead; every one of my colleagues has been fired or retired. But still, maintaining even the shell of an agency might have helped it come back to life under a new administration. Almost every week I read an article about some issue where people are hurting, that mentions how there’s nobody left to help now that the CFPB has been shuttered. Most recently it was this story in Bloomberg about zombie second mortgages, a topic that was getting a lot of scrutiny last year at CFPB.

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Iceland: Week 17

I finally got to walk on a glacier. I’ve seen them from a distance when hiking alongside their imposing presence on the Laugavegur trail, and up close on a boat to the calving front in the Jökulsárlón glacial lagoon. I have memories of a planned glacier walk in Alaska that was scrapped when I was twelve years old, visiting my Aunt Debi with my grandparents, but that was too long ago to even remember the circumstances. This week I finally got on top of (and even inside!) the glacier Sólheimajökull, an outlet of the the larger Mýrdalsjökull ice dome sitting atop the Katla volcano.

Sólheimajökull terminus
Icebergs reflecting in the glacial lagoon

 Sólheimajökull is probably the most accessible glacier in Iceland, which is why I was able to visit it on a day-trip from Reykjavík. It’s a skinny, 12 km long valley, that terminates in a glacial lagoon that wasn’t even there in 2009, but grows 50 meters larger ever year as the glacier retreats due to rapid melting since the turn of the century. There is a timelapse video on Vimeo that captures the change from 2007 to 2018, and the Glacier Change website has numerous slide-over comparison photos, the most dramatic of which compares photographs from 1930 and 2023. My guide thought there may be only a couple more years where it will be possible to access the ice from easy approach we took, as the front pulls away into the valley.

The surface of Sólheimajökull is partly covered by black volcanic ash from the nearby Katla volcano, which hasn’t had a major eruption since 1918. Thin layers of ash can accelerate the melting of of the ice, since the darkened surface lowers reflectivity and increases heat absorption. But if the layer of ash is thick enough it can actually slow melting by acting as an insulating blanket.

Ash covering on the Sólheimajökull glacier

Once you get past the lagoon and actually up glacier the thickness of the ice becomes more obvious. What isn’t apparent when looking at the lagoon is that it’s 60 meters deep, which as our guide pointed out is nearly the height of the Hallgrímskirkja church in Reykjavík. That’s why exploring a glacier requires caution, because that surface is full of crevasses, which are cracks, but also moulins, which are formed by flowing water and can create drop offs all the way to the bottom. A glacier is not solid ice, there is always water melting and flowing within it.

The tour I took was not just walking on the glacier, but ice climbing into the glacier, and the photos above show the moulin that our guide identified for us to climb. The second shot, leaning over the edge, I took while attached to an anchored tether that hooked on to a harness. I would not want to lean over this edge otherwise, as a slip and fall would have been disastrous — I couldn’t see the bottom.

The crampons you wear for ice climbing are a little different than I was used to, mainly the addition of spikes near the toes, as it requires kicking the ice wall hard enough to stick and support your weight as you reach up and secure your next position.

Our guide identified a “blue ice” spot that was strong enough to anchor the rope, which could supposedly support up to 1,000 pounds. You strap the rope to your harness and then essentially just walk backwards over the edge of the moulin, walking down the ice wall with the tension of the rope supporting you. Then, once you’ve gone as deep as you’d like, you turn vertical and stab your feet into the ice to begin climbing out.

Making my way up
Almost to the top

Ice climbing was a lot of fun, and much easier once I got my technique down and stopped trying to pull myself up from the ice axes. Ideally you are stuck to the wall by your toes, and only use the axes to balance and take the next step up. Our guide was a Frenchman named Steve who was very patient with climbing newbies and apparently quite the adventurer himself. He’s planning a solo, 550 km unsupported ski trip across Greenland next year. I have photosets on Instagram of the glacier and a separate one for ice climbing. if you want to see more photos.

I would highly recommend this day-trip through Arctic Adventures for anyone who is interested. The transport option from Reyjavík also includes stops at the Skógafoss and Seljalandsfoss waterfalls, the latter of which is skipped later in the winter due to lack of daylight. But luckily for me, I got the opportunity to walk behind the falls as the sun was setting.

Behind Seljalandsfoss at sunset

The other big event this week was Iceland Airwaves, a 3-day music festival that grows to fill the whole week with numerous off-venue events and takes over the entire downtown area. I had a festival pass, and saw a least a dozen acts over four days. All of the venues are within walking distance, so it’s easy to check out a performance and decide to move on midway through if you’re not feeling it. In general it was a little too heavy on the dance/club side of things, but there was huge diversity with folk, hip-hop, neo-classical, rock, and electronic in the mix. Some of the acts I wanted to see simply went on too late for this middle-aged man, and jam-packed venues are less fun once it gets past drunk o’clock — but overall it was a fun experience.

The festivals is a showcase for Icelandic musicians, but also had lots of the UK, Faroe Islands, US, and EU countries. I knew very few of the names going into it, but enjoyed the sets I saw by Jelena Ciric, lúpina, Ólöf Arnalds, knackered, Antony Szmierek, RAKEL, Hania Derej, Milkywhale, Lea Kampmann.

Noted & Done

  • A recent survey noted that the Icelandic sheep population has dropped by 100,000 in the past ten years, leaving only 350,000 sheep in Iceland. That means that today is the first time there has ever been more people than sheep in Iceland.
  • The USD/ISK exchange rate is still bumpy but is finally creeping back up. It reached its nadir right as I moved here, so any improvement is welcome from my perspective.
  • Finished watching season 3 of The Diplomat, which is no Borgen, but continues to hold up pretty well as a US political drama. Given that it’s been part of my studies I was delighted to see the United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea show up as a plot element.

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Iceland: Week 16

Distance can be measured in many ways — the most obvious being time or space — and I’ve always been fascinated by how those two ideas are intertwined: a light-year away, a ten-minute walk, the future is in front of us. After all, a GPS satellite is essentially a floating atomic clock; its coordinates, without the exact time they were transmitted, would be meaningless. Anyway, Iceland hasn’t observed Daylight Saving Time since 1968, so while I still live in Reykjavík, I’m now an hour further away.

Mt. Esja covered in snow

Last week I said that winter had arrived, but this week it really showed off. On Tuesday, the first snowfall in Reykjavík set records for October, reaching a depth never before recorded this early in the season. It was a chance to break out the winter gear that took up so much space in my suitcase last July, and I had a blast wandering around in the blizzard. Near the harbor, it was crazy to see boats still out on the water, their lights disappearing just a few meters into the fog and snowfall — I wouldn’t want to be onboard. I had to keep my camera in a dry bag in-between shots; the snowflakes were so wet and fluffy, perfect for making snowmen. The day after, it was cool to see that the Reykjavík Grapevine published some of my photos that I sent in when they called for reader submissions.

A snow covered lane near the Danish embassy.
In the days afterwards you really had to watch out for slow falling off roofs.
Harpa in the snow.

I’ve been wondering about winter in Iceland, and how things might compare to the US, given that I’ve lived in snowy places like Chicago, Minneapolis, and Michigan. Setting aside the early arrival, the amount of snow was similar to storms you’d expect multiple times a year in any of those places. So far, I would rate snow removal as better in the US, at least in terms of pedestrian spaces. There doesn’t seem to be an expectation that homeowners and businesses clear the sidewalks. I’ve seen few people shoveling, and little evidence of salting. There are some heated sidewalks, using geothermal heating, but it’s not widespread.

The key factor that makes Icelandic winters tougher is wind — gale force winds combined with icy roads make for risky driving. But one thing Iceland does really well is track realtime info on road conditions throughout the country, with color coded road segments, wind speed, and traffic cams. There are also regional color codings (yellow, orange, red) that provide a more general warning. I’d seen yellow warnings before, but Wednesday was my first orange warning, which basically means “don’t travel” and led to most businesses closing early.

The day after the snowstorm was a perfectly clear night and the northern lights came out strong. I felt lucky to capture this image of the aurora dancing around the Imagine Peace Tower.

Noted & Done

  • Settled on topics for the two Arctic papers I need to write over the next month (more on that later).
  • Went to the art exhibit showcasing Steina Vasulka, an Icelandic video artist, at both the National Gallery and the Reykjavík Art Museum.
  • Went to a Reykjavík Poetics event but realized that poetry readings in Icelandic don’t exactly work for a monoglot.
  • Finished season five of Slow Horses, which continues to be good.
  • Set up voting for this year’s proposed new branches of the Moped Army.

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Iceland: Week 15

Winter has arrived in Reykjavík, as evidenced by the heavier coat I grabbed when I left my apartment yesterday morning and the first snow to accumulate briefly in the courtyard last night. This morning it was gone, but it’s sticking to the mountain tops that surround the city, a visual reminder that winter descends. Along with the colder air, the darkness on either side of the day hugs a little tighter, squeezing and slanting the light each morning and evening, shading the snowcapped mountains into a hazy pink before blinking awake or asleep.

Reykjavík in late October, with a snowcapped Mt. Esja in the background.

Friday was the 50th anniversary of the Women’s Day Off strike in Iceland, a major event for women’s rights in which 90% of women in the country stopped all professional and domestic labor to draw attention to unequal treatment. That event was the start of a movement that led to Iceland topping the World Economic Forum’s Global Gender Gap list (the USA is #43). It was estimated that 50,000 people gathered for the outdoor rally at Arnarhóll — roughly an 8th of the country’s population.

People gather at Arnarhóll to celebrate the 50th anniversary of the Women’s Day Off and to demand continued movement towards full gender equality.
A sign at the Women’s Strike event that reads “I am a woman but I am also a human” in Icelandic.
A girl holding a sign at the Women’s Strike that reads “Equal Rights” in Icelandic.

There’s a really good documentary about the original Women’s Day Off event called The Day Iceland Stood Still that I highly recommend. Unfortunately it’s not available on streaming services yet, but it is interesting to see that many organizations hosted screenings on the anniversary, including Scandinavia House in New York and The League of Women Voters in St. Paul. Keep an eye on the upcoming screenings page on their website, or you can catch it on in-flight entertainment if you happening to be flying Icelandair.

Noted & Done

  • It was reported that 3 misquotes were found in Iceland, their first ever sighting.
  • I finally made it to the downtown flea market Kolaportið and found a vendor that sells Icelandic and Faroese stamps. This is like catnip for me — I bought 30 First Day Covers.
  • Finished watching the mini-series Task on HBO, which I highly recommended. It’s by the creators of Mare of Easttown, and like that show is also set in Pennsylvania in a way that feels really authentic to the place. Mark Ruffalo and Tom Pelphrey both have incredible performances.

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Iceland: Week 14

Over the last three days I attended the Arctic Circle Assembly, the largest annual pubic gathering on Arctic topics spanning politics, science, security, and culture. Its inclusive framing means that people who might otherwise be siloed into their own fora bump up against each other, and a commitment to open dialog makes those overlaps more interesting. What that looks like in practice is that every session (including the plenaries) includes a Q+A where anyone in the audience can ask as question, whether the speaker is an academic, head of state, or military leader.

It’s me!

The assembly is obviously important to Iceland, and a key way for the country to position itself as an important figure in Arctic topics, especially in light of the so called Arctic 5 (US, Canada, Norway, Russia, Denmark via Greeland) sometimes excluding Iceland from certain decisions. The former President Ólafur Ragnar Grímsson is the Chairman of the Arctic Circle and moderates the plenary sessions, the former Prime Minister Katrín Jakobsdóttir is the Senior Emissary and Chair of the Polar Dialogue, and the current PM Kristrún Frostadóttir was hosted for a Q+A. Prominent political figures from many nations spoke and took questions, including US Senators Lisa Murkowski from Alaska and Angus King from Maine — although they Zoomed in due to the ongoing government shutdown in Washington.

US Senators stuck in Washington because Republicans refuse to fund healthcare.

The political conversations were tilted heavily towards topics of security in the Arctic, with concerns about the return of great power politics, Russian’s continued aggression and isolation, and China’s growing interest in the Arctic. Mirroring the situation within the Arctic Council, the primary governance body for the region, Russia was not present at this year’s event. Or rather, they were not there to represent themselves but were a backdrop in nearly every conversation. The Russian invasion of Ukraine has caused turmoil throughout the world but a look at the top of the globe makes it obvious why their exclusion from Arctic discourse is particularly problematic: the Russian landmass simply dominates the region. There were stories of individual scientists still finding ways to collaborate with peers in the Russian Federation, but these were few and far between. The only direct representative I saw on a panel was a Nenets woman who splits her time between Canada and her home in the Yamalo-Nenets Autonomous Okrug.

Overall, I found it fascinating to be around representatives from governing bodies that I’ve been studying, like the Arctic Council or the Inuit Circumpolar Council. Some of the authors of papers I’ve been reading in my Arctic courses were there, and it was useful to take in the landscape of topics and concerns. I can’t recap everything, but I’ll highlight a handful of sessions below that stood out to me.

Citizen Science: Glacier Voices

This panel was organized by the Iceland Glaciological Society, who publish a yearly journal called Jökull. Apparently 2025 is the International Year of Glaciers’ Preservation, and while the only real way to preserve glaciers is to combat global warming throughout the world, the panel focused on various means by which both glaciologists and everyday people contribute to tracking the retreat and disappearance of glaciers.

They talked about how in remote areas of Iceland “farmers will go out to their local glacier” and make yearly measurement. For most of us glaciers can feel distant and abstract, so the idea of having a local glacier is an interesting contextual switch. Along with measurements, they highlighted how repeat photograph is a simple but powerful tool to track changes, and pointed towards a tool called RePhoto that aims to make this easier. They also have a project called the Extreme Ice Survey Iceland where you can submit your photos taken from specially designed stands that are mounted throughout Iceland to aid in capturing the exact same angle and position of the glacier.

Camera stand to capture a glacier and contribute to the Extreme Ice Survey Iceland. (source)

Another resource is glacierchange.com, which includes a map of glaciers worldwide and has information pages for each. This site also keeps track of former glaciers, those that has already melted out of existence, such Okjökull in Iceland. Increasingly people are holding funerals for glaciers when they are gone, a visible and public moment of ecological grief.

Permafrost Science: What Arctic Trends Mean for COP30 Negotiations

This session was organized by Permafrost Pathways, and was an eye opener about the lack of attention the world has paid to permafrost melting. To get a sense of what this looks like in the real world, I highly recommend this New York Times story from December 2024 about permafrost thaw in Tuktoyaktuk, Canada. This panel focused less on the impact to infrastructure and communities that article highlights, and more on the carbon the thawing releases. In short, as permafrost melts it goes form being a carbon sink to a carbon source. Massive wildfires in the boreal forests across the US, Canada, and Russia have accelerated this thaw, including continued sub-surface burning that can last for years.

The presenters noted that cumulative emissions from permafrost thaw and “under-represented processes” (below-ground combustion, abrupt thaw, fire-induced thaw) are estimated to be between ~387 to ~624 gigatons of carbon by 2100. To put that in perspective, the US emitted ~4.9 gigatons of carbon in 2023. So it’s a concerning amount, and the point of the panel is that none of this is currently being factored into global emissions reduction regimes like the Paris Agreement. Later this month the world will meet for COP30 to negotiate the latest updates to each country’s National Determined Contributions to climate change, and the organizers hope to raise awareness of the issue. Their message to policymakers is that when we look at the progress made at this year’s COP it must be discounted by the fact that it doesn’t include emissions from permafrost thaw.

The Northern Sea Route: Why it Cannot Become a Major International Trade Route

Organized by the Bellona Foundation, this session presented research with a strong point-of-view concerning the continued development of the Northern Sea Route (NSR), the Russian controlled waterway that is one of three potential shipping routes opening in the Arctic due to melting sea ice. Their report on the topic is freely available, and the title of an op-ed announcing the research sums it up clearly: Russia Risks Arctic Environmental Disaster in Pursuit of Profit and Power.

Note: the Transpolar Sea Route is not accessible today, but is expected to be traversable for very brief periods as early as September 2037.

China’s main interest in cozying up to Russia in the Arctic is related to the potential for reduced shipping times when sending goods to Europe via the NSR, which is expected to become feasible during more months of the year as the sea ice melts. But the report highlights how this will raise lots of risks to the environment, including the possibility of oil spills, the emission of black carbon that increases sea ice decline, sonic disruption, wildlife collision, and destruction of marine environments when building ports. Moreover, the unpredictability of weather conditions and need to rely on ice breakers make the reward of faster shipping times less predictable. The main message here is that the risks do not outweigh the benefits, but like so many externalities I fear that the message will fall on deaf ears unless the cost to the environment is actually charged to those responsible.

Mapping Futures: Technology, Indigenous Knowledge, and Mobility in the Arctic

I can think of no other conference where you could attend a session focused on digital mapping and emerging technologies hosted by the International Centre for Reindeer Husbandry. The session was focused on Sámi reindeer herders, although the participants noted that there are 24 different indigenous groups throughout the Arctic that base their lives on reindeer herding. They touched briefly on some of the new technologies they have embraced over the years, from snowmobiles, to early adoption of cellphones (consider that Nokia was nearby), to the use of drones.

The bulk of the talk focused on a recent collaborative mapping project by Christina Shintani and Ravdna Biret Marja Eira Sara that communicates the migratory patterns of the Fálá reindeer herd in Western Finnmark. In recent years the traditional migration path has caused increased tension between Sámi herders and people living in the town of Hammerfest, Norway — which has increased in population due to energy development projects in the area. The map illustrates the traditional herding practices, highlights contemporary challenges, and acts as a communication tool with other people living in the region.

The map itself is a fascinating artifact, but the way it was co-created through community input is the most interesting part. It sounds like a very successful model of not just incorporating indigenous knowledge as an input, but really co-designing to embody that knowledge into a living communication tool. They emphasized that it’s a work in progress, and will be updated and adapted to serve different purposes as they arise.

One really smart visual treatment you can see in the map is the use of seasonally appropriate satellite imagery for the areas of land where the reindeer migrate during summer or winter. It’s a simple but effective way to embed the passage of time into a single image.

Map by Christina Shintani and Ravdna Biret Marja Eira Sara. (source)

Tara Polar Station: Studying the Central Arctic Ocean Over the Next Decades

On Saturday I ended up focusing a lot on the Tara Polar Station, the Arctic research vessel that has been parked in the Reykjavík harbor for the last month. I went to a talk in the morning about the types of science they plan to do onboard, another featuring videos from their first test trip to the polar ice earlier this year, and then most interestingly I got a tour of the boat itself! Below are a few photos but I have a larger photoset on Instagram of the tour.

This is the “moon pool” where they can have access to the ocean directly without going outside. There is a 2,000 foot cable winch they can use to send down cameras, instruments, or people.
Yeah, they fit a sauna in there!

If you want to see it in action I suggest checking out their YouTube page, which has the videos I saw at the conference of their initial test voyage.

This photo doesn’t fully capture it, but during the final reception for the Arctic Circle Assembly the sky lit up with intense northern lights. Lots of times you can only see them faintly with your naked eye, but this was dramatically different. They were not only clearly visible, but moving around rapidly, splashes of green and pink swirling above the harbor. A pretty great way to end these intense few days.

One final note, I had previously mentioned that I was attending the conference as a delegation volunteer, and while I was excited about that, it didn’t work out quite how I expected. I was assigned a delegation to support but they never got in touch with me. I still got to attend the conference for free, including backstage access, but I didn’t get to meet my delegation or attend any of their meetings.

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Iceland: Week 13

Last week I mentioned that the lighting of the Imagine Peace Tower was happening on October 9th, and I had tickets to take the ferry over to Viðey Island to attend in person. But the weather in Iceland had other plans. Starting the day before, the kind of winds that can only originate at sea hit Reykjavík, with gusts up to 56 MPH at the time I checked my weather app. The windchill dropped the temperature by 27°F and while it was calmer the following day the organizers still decided to cancel the lighting ceremony out of caution. I’m told it’s just typical autumn weather; it was mid-50s and calm soon after. But it gives me a better sense of why plans in Iceland need to be flexible when strong gale winds can whip up quickly.

Screenshot from the Windy.com app on October 8, 2025

I did get a chance to attend a related event, the Imagine Forum, an annual conference put on by the Höfði Peace Center, which had a theme this year of “Protecting Rights – Defending Peace.” The day-long event brought some powerful voices to Iceland, from areas of the world most grappling with peace and human rights.

The Iranian actress and activist Nazanin Boniadi talked about the severe restrictions that women in Iran face, and her work to establish international recognition and law around the term gender apartheid. Her stories of repression were paired with examples of women pushing back, risking and often facing horrific consequences. She emphasized the intergenerational aspect of hope in this fight, of how women in Iran can learn from their grandmothers, in photos and stories, about a time when they had more freedom than they do today.

Varsen Aghabekian, the Minister for Foreign Affairs and expatriates of the State of Palestine, spoke as the ceasefire in Gaza was agreed to and the world holds its breadth in hope that this could be the moment the genocide stops. It felt important to hear directly from her about the need for accountability, and the importance of a two-state solution, but I was left with the same intractable feelings about how that will be possible in the face of extremist attitudes.

The final speaker I want to highlight is the one that has stuck with me most, Vladimir Kara-Murza — a Russian opposition politician, historian and former political prisoner. In 2023 he was sentenced to a Siberian prison colony for his political views, and freed the following year as part of the largest prisoner exchange between the US and Russia since the end of the Cold War. He told stories of Putin’s rise to power that frighteningly mirror what Trump is doing in the US today, in particular his consolidation and control of the media. He also emphasized that we should not believe there is universal support for the Ukrainian invasion amongst Russian citizens. He told the story of a man jailed for five years for simply responded to an opinion poll and saying he was against the war. When the consequences for resistance are so extreme, there is no reliable data about public opinion.

These three speakers were representing terrible environments for human rights and peace, and yet it was striking how much each of them embodied feelings of hope. After his talk, Vladimir Kara-Murza was on a panel with Rósa Magnúsdóttir, Professor of History at the University of Iceland, and they both used their historical expertise to frame today against the arc of history. Asked about how he remains hopeful Kara-Murza told a story from the previous week, where he had flown into Frankfurt and then drove to Strasbourg for an event. He reflected on how that region of Alsace was soaked in the blood of history, after so many wars fought between Germany and France over the territory. Yet today you would never suspect it, with no border crossing, a single currency — it’s hard to even tell which country you’re in.

It’s hard to zoom out like this, when each day the grip of authoritarianism only seems tighten, and it’s easier to imagine tomorrow based on the trajectory of today than the cycles of the distant past. But as these speakers showed, the worse it gets the more important it is to remember that it doesn’t have to be this way. The grandmothers in Iran remember a different life, the collapse of oppressive regimes accelerates quickly when it occurs, and despite the tyrant’s attempts to hide it their actions are not popular. What I took away is the need for hope, and persistence, and perhaps hardest of all patience.

If you’re interested, a recording of the entire Imagine Peace Forum 2025 is available on Vimeo.

Next week is an major event I’ve been looking forward to since before moving to Iceland, and integral to my studies of the Arctic while I’m here. The Arctic Circle is the largest gathering of politicians, academics, business leaders and others focused on a wide range of Arctic-related topics. They’re expecting 3000+ attendees from over 70 countries, with lots of ministerial level speakers.

I’m not only attending, but will be a delegation volunteer, which means I’ll be on-call to support whichever delegation I get assigned, helping with whatever needs come up throughout the 3-day event. I don’t yet know which delegation that will be; I find out tomorrow. This means I’ll have full backstage access to the conference, and this week I attended an orientation that involved touring the Harpa conference center. I’m a little worried about providing concierge services to a foreign delegation when I’ve only just learned the ropes myself, but it should be an interesting learning experience.

From the top floor of Harpa conference center.

Last night I saw Hania Rani perform at Fríkirkjan, the Lutheran church built in 1903 in downtown Reykjavík. Almost a year ago I saw her for the first time at the Cedar Cultural Center in Minneapolis and was blown away. Similar to that concert, she was surrounded by numerous keyboards, including a grand piano, which she treated almost as a single instrument, swapping between them or playing them at the same time. The experience was fantastic, and the music a bit different than before as she was performing under her pseudonym Chilling Bambino, which is more synthesizer focused.

The keyboard setup for the Hania Rani show at Fríkirkjan.
Photo via Instagram user @mona_blank.

Hania is Polish, and this performance was sponsored by the Polish Embassy. Immigrants from Poland make up the largest group of foreign-born inhabitants in Iceland, totaling 32% of the immigrant population in 2024.

Noted & Done

  • Attended the opening event for Sequences: Real-Time Art Festival at the Marshall House.
  • Finished reading The Rebellious Ally: Iceland, the United States, and the Politics of Empire 1945-2006 by Valur Ingimundarson. This must be the most comprehensive English-language text on Iceland’s deeply intertwined history with the United States. I found it fascinating and if you’re at all interested in Iceland, American history, WWII, or the Cold War then I highly recommend it. It is not easy to find in print, but luckily the full book is available as a PDF download.
  • Related to the reflections above, on history as an avenue for hope, I don’t know why it took me so long to discover Heather Cox Richardson. She’s a professor of American history at Boston College and runs a widely read daily newsletter on politics. I’ve been finding her YouTube channel insightful.
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Iceland: Week 12

My eyes are glad that this week is over. Too much looking at tiny words, at close proximity, on laptops, tablets, phones, and printouts. A few years ago I got bifocals, an aging rite of passage, added new complexity to the eyeglasses I’ve worn since second grade. But they do nothing for the kind of stiffness of focal length that I increasingly experience if I spend too long on close-up work. When I stop to look at a distance the world is blurry, and stays that way for a long while until my eyes slowly adjust. I’ve learned that it’s called an “accommodative spasm” which is such a strange phrase that it’s honestly kind of a silver lining if I get to use it regularly.

Luckily the solution is simple, and something we probably all need to remember: it’s healthy to just stare off into the distance every once in a while.

While out on an evening walk along the waterfront this magical pillar of light turned on! It’s Yoko Ono’s Imagine Peace Tower, the base of which I saw on Viðey Island when I visited a few weeks ago. I was surprised, because I knew it wasn’t supposed to start until John Lennon’s birthday on October 9th. It turned off again after 15 minutes, so I’m guessing this was just a test.

I got tickets to attend the official lighting ceremony this week. My timing will unfortunately be tight, with some other commitments immediately beforehand, but I’m hoping I can catch the last ferry before the 8pm event. If you want to watch, they’ll be streaming it live on their website (4pm ET).

Noted & Done