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SEPTEMBER in Iceland is the month of the réttir, or round-up, when Icelanders head to the hills to bring their sheep home. What a sight it is, as thousands upon thousands of sheep—white, black, brown and in between—come stumbling down into the valley after a bright summer of wandering across impossible volcanoes.

Last week, I was lucky enough to help out with the round-up in the tiny township of Fluðir--a cluster of ancient sheep farms at the edge of Iceland’s ice-capped interior. From the back of a sturdy Icelandic horse, the view of the mountains and the sheep was magical. I was living in a post card, down to my very real red nose and the constant scent of wet, live wool all around me. The farmers’ sons cried ‘yip, yip, yip’ and chased the sheep in tighter and tighter circles and moving them along the banks of a glacier river towards the corral. The round pen was built well over 1,000 years ago, made of lava stone and covered with grassy turf. Once the sheep were driven inside, we set about the tough task of grabbing sheep, checking their ear tags for numbers, and shuffling them into the smaller pens of their respective owners. It’s an exercise that favours the combined skills of a legal assistant and rodeo star, but urbanite me still managed to file away six stubborn lambs.  read more »