Perceiving Iceland's Stunning Beauty: A Constant Risk

First time I felt an earthquake in Iceland, I instinctively ran for the nearest door frame, seeking safety under the sloped ceilings of my attic apartment in one of Reykjavík's iconic bárujárn houses.

Catharine Fulton

Courtesy Catharine Fulton

I remember being frightfully aware of my fate should the old timber frame and corrugated iron siding decide to simply give way.

The tremors subsided in a matter of seconds, but my knees continued to tremble and my heart raced for a while.

My first encounter with an active volcano is still vivid in my memory. It was the eruption of Fimmvörðuháls in March 2010, which preceded the well-known Eyjafjallajökull eruption by just a month. This event unleashed ash and sparked countless memes due to its notoriously difficult name to pronounce.

I remember the surreal experience of riding a snowmobile across the rugged surface of Sólheimajökull glacier, dressed in a snowsuit, boots, balaclava, and helmet as the sun set. In the distance, I could see a fissure vent erupting with liquid magma, and a lavafall cascading down the side of a newly formed crater. It was a truly magnificent and immersive experience, with the glowing lava contrasting against the night sky, the intermittent waves of heat from the eruption providing relief from the freezing cold, and the powerful sound of the Earth churning, which remains the most vivid memory of that night.

Hikers are silhouetted against rivers of lava flowing from a volcanic eruption between Iceland's Myrdalsjokull and Eyjafjallajokull glaciers in March, 2010.

NordicPhotos/Getty Images/FILE

I wasn't used to such clear signs of the tectonic plates moving underneath me. Coming from the suburbs near Toronto, earthquakes and volcanoes were things I only saw on TV or read about in old National Geographic magazines.

The closest my home came to an earthquake was when I slammed my bedroom door with too much teen angst. It wasn't until I moved to Iceland in March 2009, attracted by the chance to witness and report on a nation recovering from an economic collapse, that I truly understood and valued the explosive nature of the world.

Iceland's physical beauty is easily appreciated, with its sparse tree cover and vast, sometimes desolate, sometimes mossy lava fields earning it the moniker of "otherworldly." However, curious visitors quickly discover that Icelandic nature demands respect, not only for its preservation, but for their personal safety.

All Icelanders are aware of the beauty of their country, but they also know that there is always the potential for danger. This has been brought to the forefront for residents of Grindavík, a small town located 50 kilometers from Reykjavík on the south coast of the Reykjanes peninsula, who are currently seeking shelter with friends and family or at Red Cross emergency shelters throughout the country. While the majority of the country is considered safe, a significant portion of the peninsula has been evacuated due to the Icelandic Meteorological Office's continued prediction of an imminent eruption.

Damage caused from earthquakes and magma beneath the town of Grindavik, on November 22. Residents have been evacuated amid an imminent volcanic eruption.

The people of Grindavík, Iceland, have a unique acceptance of "this is just the way it is," which may explain why they remained in their homes when the ground started shaking in recent years.

In 2019, the peninsula began a new cycle of volcanic activity, marked by an increase in earthquakes and measurable ground rise around the Fagradalsfjall volcano, leading to an eruption in March 2021. The cycle of frequent earthquakes preceded another eruption near Fagradalsfjall in July 2022 and once again in July 2023.

During these seismic and eruptive periods, news reports described the earthquakes as an inconvenience for the nearby town of Grindavík, which was close but not in danger of the volcanic activity. The eruptions in the following years were referred to as "tourist eruptions," as they were located far from infrastructure and considered safe to view with a 10 km hike.

In Reykjavík, we could also feel the stronger earthquakes. Now that we live in a sturdier concrete home, I can hear the shockwaves approaching, sounding like a large truck speeding down the street before slamming into the building with a jolt and rolling on.

The 140,000 residents of the capital experienced the recent activity on Reykjanes peninsula in much the same way, feeling the occasional odd jolt or rumble.

The recent surge of seismic activity that began on October 25 had a profound impact on the people of Grindavík. Unlike previous quirky news stories about residents taking sea sickness tablets to cope with the constant movement of the Earth, this time the epicenter had shifted beneath the town. One resident described the situation to The Reykjavík Grapevine as feeling like a "monster under their feet."

This restless "monster" caused tens of thousands of earthquakes before finally unleashing a major event on November 10 that repeatedly shook the ground. Late that night, the 3,700 residents of Grindavík were ordered to evacuate.

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The monster had created a 15-kilometre-long lava tunnel that ran underneath the town.

There is currently no danger to anyone. Though the earthquakes have lessened - we haven't felt any in the capital since the swarms of November 10 - the violent nature of this country's position on tectonic plates and its possible effects on humans have become a major concern.

Since the 1973 eruption in the Westman Islands, there hasn't been a town-wide evacuation until now. The residents of Grindavík are currently waiting and wondering if they will ever be able to return home, or if they will want to. The writer recalls their first experience with a volcano and hopes that it won't result in the destruction of people's homes.