“Human bonds with nature are either worn out or destroyed, and have led to global warming and climate change. Man carves his path on earth based on his choices, and humankind is therefore required to realise that he is just a tiny part of the natural environment on which his survival depends.’’
Nina Fragopoulou, Professor of Marine Biology
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Iceland is a land alive and active, giving birth to lava again and again.
It was just a thousand years ago when the Vikings set eyes on this wild island. Under its ground, two continents converge through the North American and Eurasian plates. A wild landscape of volcanic rocks, still-molten lava, and geysers that erupt at temperatures of 200C, all of which are the beauty of Iceland.
Glacial rivers flow rapidly, carving waterfalls which roar with power. The air smells of sulfur. Who else, except the Vikings, could inhabit this wild island?
During our journey, we drove 2,500 kilometres, the Ring of Ice and Fire, as the route around Iceland is called. We drove 70 consecutive kilometres without encountering any houses, cars, or even a single bird. We didn’t see any signs of life. The Ring passes black rocks, terracotta soil, ebony sands, waterfalls, glaciers, and lava.
One of the most beautiful spots on the route is the glacial lake Jökulsárlón. It is located right beside the Ring Road, between Scaftafell and Höfn. About a million people visit this natural wonder every year. The authorities try hard to protect the flora, fauna, and their shared environment here. Although the lagoon looks ancient, it is actually very young. Jökulsárlón formed after the glacier began to recede in 1940.
In front of me, the white mass of Europe’s largest icecap, Vatnajökull, stretched. Its iced tongue reached into the lake. At least five active volcanoes smoulder beneath the glacier.
The icebergs in the lagoon were carved from Breidamerkurjökull, an offshoot of Vatnajökull, which crashed into the water. They can float up to five years in the 250-metre-deep lagoon. Only 10 per cent of icebergs are visible above the surface, which means that we can see only their peaks. Literally the tip of the iceberg.
When we reached the landmark, the lagoon was calm, with the icebergs floating on its surface looking like carved marble. Its waters had a pale blue colour, and as it is the deepest lake in Iceland, Jökulsárlón attracts a variety of wildlife, including a population of seals. The lagoon’s mouth meets the sea, connected by a bridge at its entrance. Occasionally, large icebergs change shape as they melt, breaking into smaller fragments that ultimately become low enough to pass under the bridge and reach the sea.
A wonderful exhibition of these natural sculptures lies in the lagoon. We had just finished a tour by an amphibious boat that took us into the maze of icebergs right up against the glacier’s snout. I was thrilled because I had seen so many beautiful images. I loved the texture of the icebergs and wished I could touch them. On top of one of them, some little birds were perched.
The tour guide grabbed a large floating piece of ice and invited the children on board to touch it. One by one, the young explorers felt the sense of the ice; some of them hugged it. Their jackets were wet, but they laughed happily. I had a pessimistic thought: in what condition will the lagoon be for the generations to come?
After the tour, I set up my tripod and took some pictures of the impressive blue ice sculptures from the shore. While I was taking one last look around, I noticed a sign: “No Swimming.” I chuckled to myself. Looking at the bridge, I saw some traffic, and visitors were walking along the shore.
I was turning off my camera when I heard a muffled noise coming from the depths of the lake. I looked toward the sound. Bubbles were rising from the water. The noise grew louder, and the bubbles got bigger. Then, a large piece of ice broke free from the lake’s surface, about three metres away. It exploded out into the air and, with a big splash, sank immediately, creating a wave that reached the shore.
I spotted a young, frightened seal swimming fast towards the nearest iceberg. It had just lost its home. A minute later, calm returned to the scene. I looked for the birds – they had flown far away.
As marine biologist Professor Nina Fragopoulou told me, I was fortunate to witness in real time the visible consequences of the unfolding climate change crisis.
Iceland is being significantly affected by climate change; for instance, mosquitoes appeared in the country for the first time last year. Before last Christmas in 2025, the temperature reached 19C in some areas of Iceland, according to the Icelandic Meteorological Service.
Iceland’s glaciers lose significant ice mass each year. For example, a study on the country’s glaciers revealed a loss of approximately 9.6 gigatons of ice annually from 1995 to 2019. Jökulsárlón Lake grows rapidly because the glacier shrinks. Since 1982, it has taken up 0.5 km2 per year.
Climate change threatens the biodiversity of plants and animals, both on land and sea and disrupts the interaction among organisms. The temperature increase also affects the marine environment, which is the most important climate regulator. It causes the ice to melt, raising the sea level and affecting coastal areas with erosion.
As the professor of geography and environmental studies Jack D. Ives wrote, “a rich culture developed in Iceland when the landscape conditions were much more favourable for the support of a prosperous farming community.” Erosion of coastal areas by seawater renders the soil unsuitable for cultivation.
According to Professor Fragopoulou, the increase in sea temperature forces many organisms to migrate to northern latitudes or spread to other areas. The CO2 produced by human activities is the main factor in the temperature increase.
In 2020, the concentration of CO2 in the atmosphere was 48 per cent higher than its pre-industrial level, while natural causes are estimated to have contributed less than about 0.1C to the total temperature rise between 1890 and 2010. Scientific data show that the period 2011–2020 was the warmest decade ever recorded, underscoring the increasingly worrying effects of climate change.
The region is one of the most scenically dramatic and beautiful places in the world. Until very recently, it was one of extreme isolation, as the Ring Road was constructed in 1974. Now, the main road around Iceland, Route One, is getting closer and closer to the coastline and is increasingly threatened by coastal storms.
Climate change is unfolding right before our eyes. The broken iceberg I saw told us a story of loss. We should decide what kind of future we will create for the next generations, for our children… and theirs.
