Réttir: a unique Icelandic tradition and quite a party!

This weekend I got to take part in one of the most Icelandic of events - the annual sheep round-up or Réttir.

Iceland has a lot of sheep. A lot. There are, in fact, more four-legged woolly inhabitants than human inhabitants here at a current estimate of some 500,000 (over 100,000 more than the number of people who live here). Sheep are integral to Iceland: they’ve sustained the island’s inhabitants for centuries. It could be said that they are the lifeblood of this tiny North Atlantic island, not just for nourishment and a source of income, but for their thick and warm wool. Icelandic sheep are a unique breed as the purity of the strain has been protected and preserved by centuries of isolation. Indeed, the breed has evolved over 1,100 years of surviving in a sub-Arctic climate producing long and tough outer fibers and soft and fine inner fibers. Their wool is warm, lightweight, breathable and water repellant, so it´s no surprise that the traditional Icelandic hand-knitted sweaters (lopapeysur) are so popular. Colours of the breed vary. There are over 30 natural sheep colours, including yellow, black, and brown, but most Icelandic sheep are white and their bright white coats can be seen dotting the countryside throughout the summer months.

During the summer the sheep can be seen everywhere - on paths, roads and hills

Best of all, Iceland´s sheep are almost entirely free range. After lambing time in May, which takes place inside barn buildings or close to the farms, the barn doors are opened and the sheep and their young let out. They wander freely and graze in the Icelandic countryside during the entire summer, only feeding on fresh lush highland grass, moss, lichens, herbs and berries, which gives the Icelandic lamb meat its exceptionally good taste.

However, winters in Iceland are long, dark and harsh and the sheep cannot be left to wander the mountains and highlands through the winter months as many of them would die, so they have to be rounded up and brought back down to the lowlands and the farms for their own protection.

Therefore, September brings the réttir – the nationwide roundup of the sheep. During the course of this month, entire rural communities gather for one weekend to stake their claim on their sheep, and celebrate with friends, family neighbors and visitors. From early September this ‘most Icelandic event ever’ takes place all over the country. Sheep, and sometimes free-roaming horses, are gathered home for the winter. This century-old tradition brings together family, friends, and spectators from all over the world. Parties and hearty food make the celebrations complete.

Horses and sheep, safely gathered in

I had heard about the sheep round up at work from Icelandic colleagues. When I had asked what they were planning to do at the weekend, they had told me they were travelling back to the area they had grown up, to stay at family farms for the sheep round-up, and were clearly very excited at the prospect. They talked about bringing in the sheep, recounting tales of how they had helped as children and the fun that they had had. Many of them now take their own children and the whole family heads off for this annual trip with much excitement. At first, I thought it seemed a bit odd that so many people whom I had only ever seen in a professional work environment were so excited about the prospect of a long journey to then spend their entire weekend rounding up sheep, but as I talked to them and read about the event, I realised this was not just hard work, this was about communities getting together every year for a huge party. It seems that equally traditional to the réttir are the festivities afterwards: Réttarball is the name of the party that takes place after the sorting of the sheep, with live music and a lot of drinking being the essential ingredients, and with the party lasting well into the night.

So, this year, during Friday breakfast in the communal area of the office, when the conversation turned to the upcoming réttir, I determined that I was going to go along and see this event for myself. Or, if I was really lucky, even grab the chance to take part. Anyone is welcome to muck in and help out, as long as they make sure that they know what to do and are prepared to work, not just get in the way.

So, as the first weekend in September approached, with Matthew in the UK and no other calls on my time, I did some research and looked up the list of where the local round-ups were due to take place, finding that there were a couple within an hour or so from Reykjavík that would be happening on the Saturday, one in the morning and one in the afternoon. Donning suitable clothing and taking my camera along with me, I set off bright and early on Saturday morning to find my first round-up.

My first view of the réttir as I approached

I knew that I would only be taking part in the last stage of the sheep round-up. In fact, réttir starts with the so-called göngur where search parties ride horses and quad-bikes far into the mountains and valleys of the interior grazing lands, in search of roaming sheep, the trip spanning a few days to a week. Aided by their trusty sheepdogs the search sometimes requires days in the saddle, and entire communities turn out in support. The searchers split up into different groups, each one usually with a leader called “Fjallkóngur” or Mountain King. The Mountain King can be either male or female - whoever is the most capable and experienced. The Mountain King leads the group across mountains, valleys, and all sorts of different landscapes to locate as many sheep as they can, before gently leading them back to the lower pastures near the farms and the sorting pens.

This is followed by the main event - the bit that I was going to witness - the sorting at réttir. The name Réttir comes from the circular pens with radiating sections where farmers separate their herds. Historically, the pens—or rétt—were made of stone or turf. From above, they look like a giant wheel with spokes radiating out. Today, rétts made of metal rails are more common. We had seen many of these during our travels, and wondered just how they were used. Finally I had my chance to find out.

I arrived in good time for the 9am published time of the réttir at Reykholt, near Fluðir, towards the south of the Golden Circle area, to find that there were already lots of people there - almost all wearing their lopapaysur (note to self - next year, I too will be wearing my own hand-knitted sweater for the event - it´s practically a uniform!).

As I headed towards the rétt I was very aware of the festive atmosphere, even this early in the day. Everyone seemed excited and happy - particularly the children who were running around and whooping with excitement. There were also many people with cameras, roaming around the edges of the pen, taking pictures of the sheep, the horses and the general goings-on. Most of the people who seemed to know what they were doing were gathered in the centre of the pen, so I made my way there. Once there, I got chatting to some of the people who were waiting for the sheep to be herded into the central area and was lucky enough to meet up with a very friendly young couple. She was Icelandic, he was Australian and it was his first time at an Icelandic réttir so she was explaining and demonstrating to him how to catch your sheep and how to find out where to take it once you have caught it. I asked if it would be OK if I were to help and if she could show me what to do too, which she happily did.

The sheep are herded into the large central circular pen where we were gathered (called Almenningur in Icelandic) and then are sorted by farm into the "spokes" or triangular radial pens (or dilkar). Each of these radial pens or compartment belongs to one specific farm and has a number on the gate. This number will also be on the ear tag of the sheep that belong to that particular farm.

That sounds very simple, but in fact when you first see it happen it looks like utter chaos! It really is a sight to behold! On the command from our Mountain King (a local woman who has been the Mountain King for the past few years), the sheep which had been gathered into one of the radial pens from the nearby field were let into the central section.

Now plump and strong from all that summer grazing, the sheep scurried about in a melée of confusion. This woolly and very excited crowd was, of course, a mix of sheep from all the different local farms and had to be sorted. People of all ages—including surprisingly young children — then waded into the sea of wool. The idea is that you identify your target sheep, then quickly and decisively take hold of the horns. It´s important to grab the horns as near as possible to the head as this does not hurt the sheep at all. There is a danger if you grab the tips of the horns that you could break them, hurting the sheep, so it´s important to go for the base of the horns. Once you have hold of your sheep, you need to straddle it, so that you can grip the body of the sheep between your knees (not easy when you are in a moving sea of animals, which are all pressed up against one another and moving remarkably quickly). The process is also made more difficult by the fact that once a sheep realises you have grabbed it by the horns its reaction is generally to frantically twist and buck to try to get away. It´s therefore important to stay as calm and decisive as possible, given that the animals are already stressed and skittish. Once you have the sheep firmly gripped and still, you need to let go of one of the horns, to find the tag in the sheep´s ear and read the number of the farm on the tag. At that point, you have to find the gate with the corresponding number and make your way - with sheep - to the gate. This is where I found it was very useful to be able to speak some Icelandic as once I had found my sheep´s number (i.e. 95) I could ask others where gate 95 was and head that way. The easiest way to move with a sheep who does not want to accompany you is to lift it by the base of the horns so that its forefeet are just off the ground and, still with your feet either side of the sheep, to shuffle forwards through the sea of moving animals and people so the sheep is half-carried, half-scurrying on its back hooves along with you. On arrival at the right section, I would confirm to the farmer at the gate what number was on my sheep´s ear and they would open the gate a fraction, so that I could usher/push my sheep through the gap into the right compartment - at the same time stopping any other sheep in the vicinity from following it in, which they generally try to do in order to get away from the melée. It is hard work and very tiring, but extremely satisfying to return an animal to the correct farmer safely. I have to say that I had absolutely no idea until this weekend just how heavy and how strong sheep are!!

It is frantic work but it does come together as people cooperate and find their flow with the animals. What started out as a chaotic scramble, became a much more ordered process as the morning went on and people got into a rhythm. Although undoubtedly a hefty task it is filled with the spirit of fun and pleasure. As the central section emptied of sheep and the radial compartments filled up, there was a real sense of satisfaction and a job well done.

Once almost all the sheep had been sorted, there was a lull while some people took a well-earned rest and had a breather, and others headed back out into the field to round up the next lot for sorting. Not wanting to miss any part of the process, I had a go at this bit too. A group of us all joined the still-free and unsorted sheep in the field and spread out, forming a line, to herd them back towards the open radial pen that would then ultimately feed them into the central area of the rétt. As long as we stayed in a tight line around the sheep, they had nowhere to go but away from us in the direction we chose. Once the radial pen filled up, the outer gate was closed, trapping the sheep in the triangular section, and leaving the rest in the field for the next round-up. The Mountain King would then ensure that all the people in the central section were pressed back around the outside of the circle, leaving plenty of room for the sheep to fill up the circle, and then open the inner gate so the sheep all rushed into the circular central area, where the whole process of sorting would begin again with a new lot of sheep.

It took us about three hours to sort all the sheep into their correct sections and it was very jolly work, with much laughter, backslapping, high-fiving and a surprising amount of beer being drunk throughout (particularly given that we began at 9am!) but it was once the sheep had been sorted that the real party atmosphere began. I had been aware of the beer that was being downed while we worked but it seemed that every farmer present had at least one full bottle of some evil-looking brown hooch in his inside pockets and now that the work had been done their was no holding them back!! As the laughter became more raucous, and bottles clinked merrily in many a toast, my Icelandic friend, who had been periodically checking up on me to see how I was getting on and to make sure I was enjoying myself, now dragged me off to meet her extended family who were all at the réttir - some taking part and others, generally the older generation, preparing a feast of picnic food to sustain the workers. I was invited to share in the feasting and general merriment and was introduced to everyone, before being dragged back into the central Almenningur pen by my new friends because the singing had begun. “Come, come, the singing has started, you must come and see this” they urged and so we went back into the heart of the crowd. In what seemed to be an impromptu decision (although it is very much a part of the day and happens every year), several of the farmers had drifted together into a small group in the middle of the pen and begun to sing Icelandic folk songs. As they sang, more and more people joined in, both men and women, but the vast majority were men, which surprised me. What surprised me even more though was the quality of the singing. This was male voice choir standard and the harmonies and mix of voices were just stunning. I was told that many of the men who were singing do in fact sing in choirs - a big thing in Iceland - and it certainly showed! It felt somehow unreal to be standing in the middle of a sheep pen, with the bleating of sheep fading into the background as dozens of pure voices soared in a magnificent harmony. It was enough to make the hairs stand up on the back of your neck, and more than one of the youngsters I was with confided that there were times when the words and the harmonies could bring them to tears. Standing in this close-knit community of like-minded people, all of whom had come to work together, eat and drink together and sing together I could well believe it. It felt such a privilege to be welcomed into this group and to be a part of such a special event. It also felt a bit as if we had been transported to a simpler time for a few hours; a time when the safe gathering of the sheep was the most important event in the yearly calendar and singing and laughter was the natural response to the sheer gratitude and relief of knowing that your family and community would be likely to survive the winter. As I quietly slipped away some time later, the party was in full swing and I suspect it was still going well into the evening. As I reflected on the event on my way back I felt exhausted but so pleased that I had gone. Deeply rooted tradition in Icelandic culture, réttir is not just an agricultural event but a social one for the farming communities. For Icelanders, it’s a symbol of resilience and cooperation. It reflects the deep connection between the people and their land, showcasing the importance that agriculture still has in Icelandic life. The tradition has evolved over the years, but its core values remain unchanged. This day of celebration, of hard work, food, drink, and singing, is an opportunity for farmers to catch up, and for younger generations to learn and be part of the tradition. I look forward to going again next year and hope this is a tradition that lasts for many years to come.

The sheep safely gathered in, we can now relax and celebrate.