Nestled deep in the Westfjords of Iceland lies Djúpavík, a tiny hamlet on the edge of Reykjarfjörður. Remote, quiet, and breathtakingly beautiful, it offers travelers a rare glimpse into Iceland’s past while immersing them in dramatic natural surroundings. Towering mountains plunge into the fjord, waterfalls cascade nearby, and the silence of the village feels almost timeless. But beneath this quietude is a history that shaped not only Djúpavík but also the broader story of Iceland’s economy and cultural connections.
The Rise and Fall of the Herring Factory
For centuries, herring swam past Iceland in massive schools, yet Icelanders barely fished them. Locals preferred cod and other species, while foreign fleets—particularly Dutch and English—came north specifically to pursue herring. To many Icelanders at the time, the foreign obsession with the oily, silvery fish seemed puzzling. What they didn’t realize was that herring could be processed into valuable oil and meal, fueling lamps, industry, and international trade.
It wasn’t until the early 20th century that Icelanders themselves began to embrace the herring boom. One visionary entrepreneur decided to build a processing factory in Djúpavík in 1935, using modern methods to press herring for oil and meal. The gamble paid off spectacularly: the massive investment—then one of the largest industrial undertakings in the country—was recouped within just two years thanks to the extraordinary abundance of herring and the high demand on European markets.
For a brief moment, Djúpavík flourished. The factory was the largest concrete buildings in Iceland, and the village buzzed with life as workers arrived, ships filled the fjord, and the factory operated day and night. Yet this golden age proved fleeting. By the 1950s, herring stocks collapsed almost overnight due to overfishing and changing migration patterns. The once-mighty factory was shuttered, and Djúpavík fell silent again—leaving behind an evocative ruin, now preserved as a monument to Iceland’s “herring era.”
A Basque Connection
Long before the herring boom, the waters around Iceland had already drawn international interest. As early as the 17th century, Basque whalers and fishermen ventured north into Icelandic waters in search of whales and cod. Their presence left a mark on Icelandic culture: Basque words found their way into the Icelandic language, and stories of both cooperation and conflict remain part of the oral tradition. Though Djúpavík itself grew from later industrial developments, the Basque presence underscores the broader historical pattern of foreign seafarers being drawn to Iceland’s rich and sometimes unforgiving waters. This layer of history reminds visitors that Djúpavík is not just about herring—it belongs to a much longer story of human endeavor at the edge of the Arctic.
Preserving the factory’s legacy
Today, the old herring factory still stands thanks to the dedication of its current owner, who has poured countless hours and resources into ensuring its survival. Instead of letting the building decay into rubble, they have stabilized its vast concrete walls, cleared its interiors, and turned the space into both a historical site and a cultural venue. Summers now see the factory come alive once more. Not with the clatter of machinery, but with art exhibitions, concerts, and guided tours that allow visitors to experience its atmosphere and history.
This preservation effort is not just about nostalgia; it’s about protecting a vital chapter of Iceland’s industrial heritage. Maintaining such a massive structure in the remote Westfjords is no small task: the elements are harsh, the logistics challenging, and funding scarce. Yet the owner’s determination ensures that the story of Djúpavík remains accessible to future generations, balancing remembrance with renewal. The factory has become a living monument—part ruin, part cultural beacon—linking Iceland’s past struggles with its creative present.
In my opinion, this building deserves a Unesco World Heriage Label. Visiting Djúpavík is like stepping into a dialogue between past and present. It’s a reminder of Iceland’s resilience, the ebb and flow of human fortunes, and the enduring beauty of nature. For those who make the journey, Djúpavík offers more than just scenery, it offers a story that truly inspired me.
Details of the machinery in the herring factory
