Iceland review - 2002, Qupperneq 39

ICELAND REVIEW 37
Fortunately, help has arrived from the
British Court. Its emissaries have inspected
the Princess’s proposed lodging, a recently
restored Icelandic turf farm at
Hofstadarsel, and deemed this style of
housing – which Icelanders did their best to
root out in the 20th century – as perfectly
acceptable for a British royal. They have vis-
ited Vindheimamelar and ruled that
Princess Anne may sit on the grass like
other horse-lovers. They have even simulat-
ed wind and rain, and ruled that Princess
Anne will be able to endure the drizzle-
bearing northerlies – which the organisers
are praying will stay away on the day. Like
the Shinto priests of Japan, the organisers
have invoked the spirits of long-dead
Skagafjördur horsemen to ensure that the
weather holds fine.
Their invocations work. From the begin-
ning of the championships on Tuesday till
the grand parade on Saturday the weather
is superb. Perhaps too superb, for the com-
bination of sun and dry weather results in
a veritable dust bath. And it is in a cloud of
dust that the guest of honour makes her
grand entrance on Saturday afternoon. All
of a sudden, when least expected, Princess
Anne comes driving up in her victory chari-
ot past the pavilions of the besieging army
and the ranks of American jeeps. “There’s
the Princess!” someone cries and shortly
afterwards the presidential vehicle sweeps
up with an escort of landcruisers and police
cars. On its bonnet fly the Union Jack and
Icelandic national flag, so similar in colour
and design under their coating of dust that
they might be one and the same.
A good “tölt” is all
The Princess commences her inspection of
Icelandic horseflesh. The Icelandic horse is
essentially the same animal that the first
settlers brought over from Scandinavia in
the eighth and ninth centuries AD. Since
then its blood has not been mixed with any
other breed, which explains why it still
bears a striking resemblance to a
Mongolian nomad steed. It exudes an aura
of primitive purity. It is really too small to
race on a serious scale, yet pace-racing is
part of the Landsmót, though its impor-
tance is relatively low. The main emphasis is
on the so-called “gædingakeppnir” or
competition-horse classes. Unlike riding
horses elsewhere with their basic staple of
walk, trot, canter and gallop, the Icelandic
horse (never “pony”!) has five specialised
gaits. At the beginning of the 20th century,
“skeid” (pace) was held in the highest
esteem. However, when riding became a
sport and leisure pursuit with the advent of
cars in the thirties and forties, “tölt” (run-
ning walk) became the favoured gait and is
now regarded as the Icelandic horse’s most
prized natural asset. This gentle motion,
once referred to contemptuously as “the
lady’s gait” by Icelandic farmers, is especial-
ly favoured by breeders and riders, both at
home and abroad, and horses are general-
ly judged according to the smoothness of
their tölt.
On the grassy slope where Princess Anne
reclines on a woollen rug and cushion, a
representative of the Landsmót committee
is attempting to initiate her into the mys-
teries of the Icelandic horse show. An
Icelandic Landsmót is a riding-horse com-
For six days both competitors and spectators
live like nomads of the steppe, for only a handful are lucky enough to have
secured a roof for the night in the neighbouring district.
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