Jökull - 01.12.1999, Page 101

times since the 1920s; Ingólfur entrusted prints of his
photographs to me, so that now my collection spans
more than 75 years (I may try to pass on my interest to
one of my grandchildren. I hope for at least one more
ascent, providing my increasingly aging bones will
allow).
Although I was never able to master more than
broken colloquial sentences in Icelandic, for which I
am constantly ashamed, Ragnar, over the years, exert-
ed great efforts to communicate his fund of knowl-
edge. He told of Skeiðarárhlaups back to 1850; of the
drainage and re-filling of small glacial lakes, such as
Langagilslón; of fluctuations in termini, thickness,
icefalls; and also much folklore and family history -
the elimination by the hlaups of the old farms and
churches on the sandur; epic crossings of Vatnajökull
between Skaftafell and Möðrudalur in the north, via
Morsárjökull and „Birkijökull“, or onto Vatnajökull
beneath the south face of Miðfellstindur; about the
ancient farm across the brook (in Morsárdalur); and
his belief that Þorgeir Þórðarsson, brother of Brennu-
Flosi of Svínafell, was an ancestor.
Excelling in knowledge of natural history and its
relationship to human survival he taught me what,
much later, I came to understand as “ecology and sus-
tainable development“ - how essential it was to cull
only so many seals from Skaftafellsfjara each spring
(one of the most physically challenging experiences
of my life was to go sealing with him, Jón, and Jakob
and his brothers from Bölti, on foot, because Skeiðará
was too big to permit crossing with the Vatnahestar);
also, only a few ptarmigan were to be taken each year;
and especially, the number of his sheep must be kept
within tight limits if over-grazing and soil erosion
were not be get completely out of control. Bæjar-
staðarskógur must not be damaged: no cooking fires
during the long periods when we camped in the birch-
wood, or else the local lady troll would exact fear-
some punishment. Much later (1987), and this time as
we sat sipping cognac far into the night, he directed
me to the remains of her stone house and related the
dark story of his favourite ancestor, Einar (Ives,
1991). I did find the remnants of the troll's house and
presented a photograph and written account to the Na-
tional Museum of Iceland.
A highlight of my early visits to Skaftafell, of
course, was the prospect of a big Skeiðarárhlaup. Ex-
citement intensified during the 1953 summer when
Siggi was quoted in Morgunblaðið predicting that
Grímsvötn would likely erupt and set off a hlaup; to
our delight, Ragnar publicly challenged this and was
proved correct. But in 1954 I was on special tenter-
hooks. I was to leave the expedition early to return to
England to marry Pauline and complete official nego-
tiations for emigration to Canada, and the jökulhlaup
appeared agonizingly imminent, but the actual event
and the departure of my last possible flight from
Fagurhólsmýri to catch the sailing of SS Gullfoss, too
close to call. Anna Pálsdóttir laconically pointed out
Ragnar's advice: an Englishman will see the jökul-
hlaup only once in his life, but can get married any
time - Pauline will understand. My response was to
cause Ragnar to consult his Skeiðarárhlaup “bible“.
He advised on the likely date of the climax of the
hlaup, which proved correct, although he had to ride
horseback with me, without sparing the horses, all the
way to Fagurhólsmýri in order to catch the plane. I
wonder!
Ragnar was much more than a farmer and glaciol-
ogist. He was a legend in his own time: an environ-
mentalist of iconoclastic persuasion, a firm believer
in his country's enduring traditions and, in this, an afi-
cionado of Bjartur of Summerhouses. The very hard
period of Ragnar's life during the 1950s, which in-
cluded the loss of Einar Ragnarsson in 1958, the trag-
ic death of Anna Pálsdóttir, and the need for Ragnar
and brother Jón to leave Skaftafell to earn wages so
that farm survival and restoration could be assured,
can only be comprehended by outsiders after reading
of that not entirely fictitious Independent People, the
brainchild of Halldór Kiljan Laxness.
Ragnar's later years seemed to me to have been
more comfortable and rewarding in many, but not in
all ways. The ever present support of Laufey and
Anna María, and her husband Jón, and the compara-
tive luxury derived from sale of the farm and creation
of the Skaftafell National Park, led to well deserved
security and progressively widening respect. Yet a de-
gree of agony remained. The eventual move from the
family home at Skaftafell to Freysnes was probably
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