This was Barry Hughes' beautifully illustrated account of a trip he took to Iceland last year. The title sums up his general impression of that country.
Perhaps it is not generally known just how desolate Iceland is, nor quite how big: at 300 x 100 miles, it is the second largest island in Europe after the British mainland. Although part of Europe, it is actually halfway to the American mainland, and much nearer to Greenland than any other part of Europe. The centre of the island is uninhabited, and all habitation is on the narrow coastal plain. A new tarmac road now follows the coast, but is regularly breached by the spring melt. All other roads are gravel at best, and many need redefinition annually. Access to the interior is limited to the brief summer, and then only to four-wheel drive vehicles.
Iceland's vegetation is generally arctic tundra, with lichens, alpine plants and mosses dominating, the latter often concealing dangerous crevasses. Any trees are very stunted dwarf forms, particularly of birch. A few pines have been planted optimistically on the coastal plain. What lured Barry, like many others, to Iceland was the dramatic birdlife, which features great numbers and a wide variety of species, though most birds here are somewhat shy, having been hunted for the pot for centuries. Mammal species are few, and classified as 'good', 'bad', or 'indifferent'. Reindeer were farmed briefly but unsuccesfully, and now roam feral but unmolested, but arctic fox are persecuted as a menace to livestock.
The farms on the coast are all of similar design, and on family holdings. They are centred on a huge corrugated iron barn, the interior wood-panelled, the exterior brightly painted. The cattle remain in these barns for nine months of the year, after which they are joyously released into pasture for the summer. Obviously, a lot of hay has to be made to keep them through the winter. Redwing are the familiar farmyard bird, and they come to Britain in winter (be kind to them!). Lamb and fish are the staple diet of the islanders, supplemented by various birds and their eggs. When taking wild birds' eggs, they are careful to take only the first clutch, allowing the birds to re-lay and therefore breed.
The waterways of Iceland are in canyons carved deep into lava, and are torrents during the spring melt, difficult to access and appreciated only by the harlequin duck, a 'torrent duck'. Lakes have formed in depressions, and these are the birders' paradise, with an assortment of phalaropes, grebes, divers, whooper swan and many more. The largest lake, shallow and edged with geothermal features (boiling mud, geysers and sulphur pits) boasts 30 breeding species of duck, including long-tailed, wigeon, Barrow's goldeneye and eider. Eiders are the people's favourite because of their warm down feathers, which are removed from the nests and replaced with straw. The birds really don't seem to mind, and they are protected by remarkable and ingenious scarecrows. Ravens are their greatest enemy, but these are also effectively deterred by gunshot! While the female eider sit torpid on their nests, the males form great rafts, and float about idly, moulting.
The coast has a mixture of features. Many coastal birds nest on level sand and gravel areas; ringed plover even nest on people's gravel drives. Oystercatchers' eggs mimic sand so perfectly that they are impossible to find - even by the birds, Barry suspects, unless they cunningly mark the spot. Some coastal birds have increased in numbers, others have declined in recent years. Fulmars are thriving, probably on the waste dumped from modern factory fishing ships, but Arctic terns are in serious trouble. Despite there being some 100,000 birds there, they are failing to reproduce and, although very long-lived, their numbers must fall. Their prey, shallow-water fish, seem to have vanished, possibly gone to deeper, cooler water as the sea warms up. The deep-diving birds such as gannets and puffins have no such problem. The cliffs are in places alive with kittiwakes and guillemots, fighting for space to stand.
Barry left us with the classic shot of a puffin with a beak full of fish, and the story behind it. Our thanks for what was a superb presentation, even by his high standards.
Dick Alder