Iceland review - 2013, Síða 34

32 ICELAND REVIEW
it’s like to wait and hope and be disappointed
every day with your kids far away. Last time I
demanded that they start the birth.”
Neither Rannveig nor Svafar’s wife Unnur are
Grímsey natives. Unnur grew up in the bustling
capital but Rannveig was raised on a farm in
Svarfaðardalur, near Dalvík in North Iceland. As
young mothers, they moved to the island, which
is only about 5 km long and 3 km wide at its
widest point (3x1 miles), at a distance of 70 km
(44 miles) from the nearest harbor on the main-
land with transport by ferry and plane being
sparse in the pitch black winter. “I don’t feel iso-
lated,” maintains Unnur, “and it’s great for raising
kids.” She and Svafar also have four children.
“The only downside is that we have to send
them to the mainland for secondary school.”
However, Unnur and Rannveig both admit that
they have to escape the island’s solitude from
time to time. “Sometimes I go nuts,” comments
Rannveig. “Then I send her to land for a week,”
interjects Bjarni teasingly. “And I return crazy
with the traffic and how much money I’ve spent
as soon as I’ve turned around,” she concludes.
There’s obviously an attraction to living on
Grímsey. Not only did Svafar and Bjarni con-
vince their significant others to move there but
some of their in-laws followed. “There are many
people who want to move here and try living on Grímsey,” states
Bjarni. But there are no available houses for rent and construction
of new ones is considered too costly and risky. Bjarni and Rannveig
spent a fortune on renovating their house as the cost of shipping
building material and furniture inflates before it reaches the island.
“You buy a sofa in Reykjavík for 100,000 krónur [USD 790] but
by the time you’ve put it up in your living room the price has
increased by at least 50,000,” explains Bjarni. As Grímsey has no
reliable geothermal energy source, electricity is produced with diesel
motors and oil is used for heating, which is expensive, even though
it’s subsidized by the state. “I hate to think about how much it costs
every time I run a bath—we have this big corner bath tub,” com-
ments Rannveig, “People don’t realize how good they have it.” Most
homes in Iceland are powered and heated by renewable energy with
hot water being plentiful.
FuturE ProSPEctS
“If the situation will continue like this, there will be no people left
living on the island in ten years,” predicts Rannveig, referring to
proposed changes to the fisheries control system. “The operational
environment is horrible,” adds Bjarni, obviously upset. “Once one
was proud to be a fisherman, now—judging by how people talk—
one should be ashamed of the profession, stealing away the natural
resource of the artist elite in Reykjavík.” The previous government
was planning to gradually revoke the private ownership of fishing
quota established in 1984 and instead lease it to fishing vessel opera-
tors. The bill was never passed but a new fishing tariff, with a certain
Roger Comaposada Bajauli,
Julio Romero Romeral and Abi Martin
from Spain (from left to right) were
hoping for a clear view of the midnight
sun during their visit to Grímsey but
were left disappointed by a cloudy night.
The island still impressed, though. “We
love Grímsey,” declares Abi, “but the
birds are crazy!” They laugh as they tell
the story of Arctic terns pecking Roger
on the head—twice. Apparently they
didn’t notice the sticks available
outside the guesthouses for keeping
the aggressive birds at bay.
CULTURE