It was only when vast swathes of Iceland began to turn a striking shade of purple that authorities realized their ecological oversight. By then, the Nootka lupin, a plant native to Alaska, had already blanketed the sides of fjords, crept over mountain tops, and covered lava fields, grasslands, and even protected areas. Since its introduction in the 1940s, the lupin has inadvertently become a national symbol, drawing hordes of tourists and locals alike who pose for photographs amidst the vibrant fields each June and July.
“The tourists love it. They change the dates of when they come to time it for the lupins. The flowers have become a part of Iceland’s image, especially in the summer,” says Leszek Nowakowski, a photographer based near Reykjavik. “When people go to a waterfall or a glacier, they want to be stood around the flowers in photos. It makes it look epic … I had one guy who wanted me to photograph him proposing in the lupin fields with the waterfall in the background,” he adds.
Despite the scramble for photos each summer, Icelanders are increasingly divided about the flowers, and scientists are concerned about the ecological threat they pose. The lupins were initially introduced to stabilize Iceland’s dark volcanic soils, which were being swept into the Atlantic by fierce winds and rain. This effort to combat soil erosion was spearheaded by Hákon Bjarnason, Iceland’s chief forester at the end of World War II, who had observed the plant’s benefits during a trip to Alaska.
The Unintended Consequences of a Well-Meaning Experiment
While the initial goal was to prevent soil erosion and improve soil quality to facilitate the return of Iceland’s forests, the lupin has spread far beyond its intended boundaries. According to a 2017 satellite assessment, the plant occupies just 0.3% of Iceland, but it is classified as an invasive species. Without human intervention, it continues to spread rapidly, often outcompeting native plants and grasses. Scientists predict that lupin coverage could triple by 2027, fueled by a warming climate. One study estimates that the species could eventually cover nearly a sixth of Iceland.
“The history of the lupin in Iceland is one of good intentions and unexpected consequences,” says Pawel Wasowicz, director of botany at the Natural Science Institute. “Back in 1945, nobody knew about invasive species. The term didn’t exist. Nobody had an idea of climate change. You could get free packets of seeds at petrol stations to spread it. That’s how the invasion started. They thought it would be a medicine that solved their problems, but it has spread far more than expected.”
Despite the ecological concerns, many Icelanders have embraced the lupin, captivated by its beauty and the burst of color it brings each summer. Fields of lupins have become a popular backdrop for local newlyweds posing in the midnight sun. Some enthusiasts have even formed Facebook groups in defiance of government efforts to control the spread, celebrating the plant’s beauty and pledging to continue its proliferation.
Debate Over Ecological Impact and Cultural Significance
Proponents of the lupin argue that it has successfully regenerated plant cover over time, aligning with Bjarnason’s original vision. Historically, up to 40% of Iceland was covered in forest when the Vikings arrived in the ninth century, but centuries of deforestation and sheep farming have led to significant desertification. Supporters claim the lupin is aiding in the recovery of the landscape.
However, Guðrún Óskarsdóttir, a plant ecologist working in eastern Iceland, cautions against oversimplifying the issue. “Revegetating land with lupins is like fixing a toothache with a rock. It’ll work, but you’ll most likely damage a whole lot of other things that weren’t damaged to begin with,” she explains. The spread of lupins in mountainous areas has been linked to landslides due to their impact on soil strength.
In regions where the lupin was first introduced in southern Iceland, the underlying moss layer has developed to a point where the flowers can no longer reproduce, allowing native plants to reestablish. However, scientists warn that this natural balance will not occur uniformly across the island, meaning the lupins will continue to spread and dominate in many areas.
Looking Forward: Managing the Spread
For now, scientists acknowledge that it is too late to eradicate the lupins entirely. The focus has shifted to managing their spread, particularly in Iceland’s most biodiverse and precious areas. “It won’t crash. The number of lupins will just peak and plateau,” says Wasowicz. “The question is not whether it is good or bad, probably. When you look at the lupins in June, it’s really beautiful. But how much change are you willing to accept? And what will follow? That is the problem.”
As Iceland grapples with the dual identity of the lupin as both a tourist attraction and an ecological challenge, the debate continues over how best to balance the plant’s cultural significance with its environmental impact. The coming years will be crucial in determining the future of this vibrant yet controversial invader.
