Reportage“The Heralds of the Forests” (3/6). While the northern European island has suffered intensive deforestation over the centuries, Icelanders are fighting to replant trees, at the foot of glaciers and on lava deserts.
Route number 1 that leads away from Reykjavik and into southern Iceland is a journey in itself. Geothermal fumaroles, lava deserts, glaciers and volcanoes follow one another, shaping a lunar-like landscape. This is where some of the most famous volcanoes on the island are located, such as Eyjafjallajökull, whose eruption in 2010 blocked part of European airspace. The slightest palpitations of its neighbor, Hekla, one of the most active in Iceland, are also closely monitored.
Over time, their ancient lava flows, like frozen rivers of stone, have been covered by intense green lichens and mosses, mixed with the purple of flowering Alaskan lupins. Fighting against the wind, elegant terns fly over the road at full speed. Highlight of the show, sumptuous waterfalls arise from the volcanic heights, reinforcing the impression of a postcard.
But one element plays the intruder in this Icelandic road trip: in the valleys at the foot of the glaciers nestle small wooded areas to which we give the name of “groves” or “forests”. They seem so rare and so fragile in this volcanic, desert environment, that they almost seem to have been placed here and there by mistake. On this southern section of road number 1, around the Systrafoss waterfall, the village of Kirkjubæjarklaustur is home to a small massif where the tallest trees in Iceland stand. Sitka spruces thus culminate at almost thirty meters.
Elin Anna Valdimarsdottir lives right next to these big trees, in the oldest house in the village, built in 1885. She trudges every day with a sporty step on the steep paths of the forest clinging to a cliff. “ My father was a farmer and was part of the small community that planted these spruces in 1949”, she says with emotion. In front of a succulent smoked trout and homemade whipped cream, she proudly comments on old yellowed family photos.
Born in 1952, Elin Anna Valdimarsdottir therefore grew up with these trees. “Finally, they grew a little better than me! »she corrects, mocking 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, over time, places of deep social significance,” analyzes Elisabeth Bernard, a young French anthropologist who works in the forestry sector in Iceland.
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