IThis was only the case when vast territories Iceland began to turn purple, which made the authorities realize they had made a mistake. By then it was already too late. The Nootka lupine, native to Alaska, has covered the shores of fjords, spread tendrils across mountain peaks and covered lava fields, meadows and protected areas.
Since it appeared in the 1940s, it has accidentally become a national symbol. Hordes of tourists and locals pose for photographs in the ever-expanding fields in June and July, enchanted by the delicate cones of flowers that cover the North Atlantic island.
“Tourists love it. They change their arrival dates to coincide with the lupines. Flowers have become part of Iceland's image, especially in summer,” he says Leszek Nowakowskiphotographer from Reykjavik.
“When people go to a waterfall or a glacier, they want photos of them standing around flowers. It looks epic… I had one guy who wanted me to take a photo of him proposing in the lupine fields with the waterfall in the background,” he says.
But despite the battle for photographs every summer, Icelanders are divided on the flowers – and scientists are increasingly concerned they pose a threat.
Lupines were first introduced into the country in an attempt to anchor the country's dark volcanic soils. Huge amounts of soil were washed into the Atlantic each year by ferocious winds and rain, a problem that continues today. two-fifths of land is currently classified as significantly degraded.
The purple-blue flowers were the brainchild of Hakon Bjarnason, Iceland's chief forester at the end of World War II, who saw them on a trip to Alaska. He believed that the plant could stop land erosion by restoring the soil and fixing nitrogen in the ground. Many hoped that one day the soil quality would reach a point that would allow the island's forests to return.
Most Icelandic scientists now agree that the experiment has gone too far. According to the latest satellite data, lupine occupies only 0.3% of Iceland's territory. 2017 estimatebut it is classified as an invasive species and continues to spread rapidly across the island without human assistance, often crowding out native plants and grasses. Scientists expect lupine coverage to triple by the next assessment in 2027, helped by a warming climate. In the coming years evaluations of one study that this species can grow to cover almost a sixth of Iceland.
“The history of lupine in Iceland is full of good intentions and unexpected consequences,” says Pavel Wasovic, director of botany at the Institute of Natural Sciences. “In 1945, no one knew about invasive species. The term didn't exist. No one had any idea about climate change. You could get free packets of seeds at gas stations to spread the phenomenon. That's how the invasion began. They thought it would be a cure that would solve their problems, but it spread much more than expected,” he says. Icelandic authorities have not made serious efforts to control its spread at the national level.
However, many Icelanders have fallen in love with the plant and its ever-growing vibrant summer colors. Lupine fields have become a favorite backdrop for local newlyweds posing in the midnight summer sun. Some have even formed Facebook groups, defying government efforts to control the invasive species, praising their beauty and promising to continue their spread.
“Because it's so beautiful, tourism companies often use it to advertise the country,” says Gudrun Oskarsdottir, a plant ecologist who works in eastern Iceland on the plant's effects.
Those who love lupine say it has successfully helped revegetate over time, just as Bjarnason intended when he brought it from Alaska. Up to 40% of Iceland was covered in forest when the Vikings arrived in the ninth century, but more than a thousand years of deforestation and sheep farming have led to significant desertification. Advocates say lupine helps. But Oskarsdottir says it's not that simple.
“Revegetating the land with lupine is like treating a toothache with a rock. It will work, but you'll likely damage a lot of other things that weren't damaged in the first place,” she says, explaining that the expansion of lupine into some mountainous areas at the expense of native plants has in some cases been linked to landslides due to the impact on soil strength.
In the areas where lupine was first sown in southern Iceland, the layer of moss under the flowers grew to such an extent that the flowers lost their ability to reproduce, again giving way to native plants. But scientists say this process will only occur in certain parts of Iceland, meaning lupins will continue to spread and dominate. At this point, scientists say it is too late to eradicate the flowers. Instead, a better option may be to simply keep them out of some of the most biodiverse and valuable places.
“It won't collapse. The lupine numbers will just peak and stabilize,” says Vasovic. “The question isn't whether it's good or bad, I guess. When you look at the lupins in June, they're really beautiful. But how much change are you willing to accept? And what comes after that? That's the problem.”
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