Reykjavík Grapevine - 13.07.2012, Blaðsíða 37

37
The Reykjavík Grapevine
Issue 10 — 2012
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Music | Live
Guardian Of The Red Sands
A folk music festival comes to the backyard of a
Westfjords sheep farmer
Every day, ástþór Skúlason hears
the buzz of the electric lift that helps
him climb into his tractor. That mo-
mentary whirring—a noise that
means the paralyzed sheep farmer
can get to work—is usually one of
the only sounds in Rauðasandur, a
blip in the corner of northwest Ice-
land.
But new sounds echo on the small
Westfjords farm on July 6. Musicians
strum their guitars and a crowd of 300
people dance into the early morning
in Ástþór’s barn, strewn with hanging
lights—the site of the Rauðasandur Fes-
tival.
“It’s definitely fun to see change,
even if it’s just for one weekend,” Ástþór
says. The 38-year-old, who is paralyzed
from the waist down and uses a wheel-
chair, is lending the land to his younger
brother Hjörtur to host this folk music
festival, which puts artists like Snorri
Helgason and Lay Low on stage.
From his window, Ástþór usually
only sees his farm and the 10-kilometre
reddish beach that stretches endlessly
under the fog—an anomaly in a country
known for its black sand. This weekend,
grey, blue and purple tents, along with
grills and portable toilets, also dot his
view.
The festival brings a diverse group to
his backyard, from 20-something year
olds who sip cans of Tuborg to mothers
who hold their babies while waiting for
the next band to play. “These are very
good people,” Ástþór says.
PEOPLE THOUGHT I WAS CRAzY
COMING BACK HERE
This weekend, the festival is good
company for Ástþór. He enjoys the folk
music and the hums of the crowd—a
change on a farm that’s typically just
him, a farmhand and whatever group of
tourists rents out the cabins next door.
Ástþór still runs the farm himself de-
spite the car crash that paralyzed him in
February 2003 when he was driving on
the narrow road to Patreksfjörður, his
birthplace and the largest nearby town,
40 kilometres away. “The road was very
icy. I slid on the ice and fell from almost
the top of the mountain, all the way
down, and got stuck under the car,” he
says.
Ástþór was back on the farm in six
months—just in time for the summer
season. “People thought I was crazy
coming back here after the accident
but somehow I couldn’t think of quit-
ting,” he says. “It works, so I’m going to
keep doing it.”
He’s had to make some adjust-
ments—like making the sheep barn
more accessible for him and installing
the electric lift on his tractor—but he
says the daily tasks are still the same. In
the winter, he feeds the sheep and takes
care of them. In the summer, he collects
grass to stockpile for their food. In his
free time, he fishes and hunts foxes.
“It’s the freedom. I can control every-
thing by myself and most of the year it’s
really quiet and peaceful,” he says.
IT WILL ALWAYS DRAG YOU BACK
Ástþór’s 33-year-old brother Hjörtur
Skúlason used to resent the quiet.
He grew up on the Rauðasandur
farm with his three siblings—some of
the only children in a 40-kilometre ra-
dius. From when he was seven to 18
years old, he stayed at a school near
Patreksfjörður during the week and
came home to the isolated farm on
the weekends. “I didn’t appreciate it at
that time. It was kind of a prison in my
mind,” Hjörtur says.
Now, the farm is a haven for him. Af-
ter moving to Reykjavík and studying at
Goldsmiths’ College in London, Hjörtur
started managing a nearby coffee shop
last year and spends his summers close
to his brother. “I think the landscape
is so powerful. It will always drag you
back, that’s the thing,” Hjörtur says.
Hjörtur also wanted to drag his
friends, who were moving away and
inching into their 30s, to Rauðasandur.
He and three others—Kristín Andrea
Þórðardóttir, Jónína de la Rosa and
Björn Þór Björnsson—organised the
festival’s first instalment last summer
for friends and friends of friends. “It was
just a Facebook event,” he says.
This year’s version, with 6,500 ISK
tickets and sponsorships from Tuborg
and Vodafone, is a step up. The festival,
which features a bonfire, a beach yoga
session and a sandcastle competition,
sold out. “I didn’t expect there to be
anyone up there when we played but it
was a nice turnout,” says Ryan Karazija
of Low Roar, who tapped his feet onto
loop pedals as his voice reverberated in
the barn during a Sufjan Stevens cover
song.
The organisers won’t take a cut of
the profits and lured touring acts like
Low Roar and Prins Póló to play for free.
Any money left over after costs will go
to help refurbish Ástþór’s farm. “We
really want to help him do something
more and we want to do something for
the area,” Hjörtur says. “This is just so
beautiful.”
CORY WEINBERG
CORY WEINBERG
Trivia question answer from page 6:
A. In a 2011 survey, 79.7% of tourists (1,875 of 2,352 asked) replied Icelandic nature had a major impact in
their decision to visit Iceland, 38.6% said Iceland's culture and history, 17.5% said the attractive price offers/
low airfares and 10.3% said the stopover opportunity convinced them. Sadly, Iceland's hamburgers did not
make the list.