How Many Trees Are in Iceland? (2026 Data)

How many trees are in Iceland? The honest answer is both simple and shocking: Iceland has about 45,000 hectares of forest and woodland - roughly 2% of the country's land area¹. It is the lowest forest percentage in Europe, and the reason is a thousand-year story of deforestation that began with the arrival of humans in the late 9th century. When the first Norse settlers landed, birch forest and woodland covered between 25% and 40% of the country². Within a few centuries, most of it was gone.

The recovery is a modern project: since 1950, Icelanders have planted over 100 million trees³, and the forest area has grown from 7,000 hectares at the turn of the 20th century to 45,000 today. This page measures what is left, what was lost, and what is being planted - from the national champion Hallormsstaðaskógur to the birch scrub that survives in every lava field where sheep cannot reach it.

How many trees in Iceland?

How many trees does Iceland have? How many trees are there in Iceland? The answer depends on what you count. Iceland has about 45,000 hectares of forest and woodland¹, covering about 2%¹ of the country's 10.3 million hectares. How much of Iceland is forested, then? Less than any other country in Europe - and less than almost any other inhabited place on Earth. The forest percentage has been rising since the mid-20th century, but from so low a base that the recovery is measured in decimal points, not percentage jumps³.

Counting individual trees is not what forest statistics do - the measurement is area, not number. But at a typical planting density of 2,500 trees per hectare, the 45,000 hectares contain roughly 100-110 million trees - a number that the reforestation programmes are actively increasing every year³.

How many forests in Iceland? The Icelandic Forest Service manages 53 areas⁴ of public access forest under active management, plus dozens of smaller municipal and private woodlands. The largest is Hallormsstaðaskógur in the east at 740 hectares⁴ - remarkably small for a national champion, and smaller than many single farms in continental Europe⁴.

How much of Iceland is forest? The answer has changed dramatically over 1,000 years - and the direction of change has reversed in the last 70 years, making Iceland one of the few countries where forest area is increasing rather than declining³.

How much of Iceland was originally forest?

At the time of settlement around 870 CE, birch forest and woodland covered between 25% and 40% of Iceland² - roughly 1 million hectares of the 10.3 million-hectare island. The forests were almost entirely downy birch (Betula pubescens), a hardy species that survived the North Atlantic climate by growing low, twisted and dense. The "birchwoods" of Icelandic sagas were not towering forests but dense, waist-high scrub that could be cleared with fire and iron within a generation.

The deforestation was rapid by ecological standards. Within 200 years of settlement, most of the birchwoods on the lowlands were gone - cut for fuel, timber and charcoal, and cleared for grazing land. Sheep, introduced by the settlers, prevented regeneration by eating every seedling that emerged. By 1900, only about 7,000 hectares³ remained - less than 1% of the country³.

The reforestation project: 100 million trees

Iceland's reforestation effort began in earnest in the 1950s, when the Icelandic Forest Service began systematic planting with both native birch and introduced species - Siberian larch, Sitka spruce and black cottonwood, which grow faster and taller than birch in Icelandic conditions. Over 100 million trees have been planted since³, and the annual rate has accelerated from about 100,000 trees per year in the 1950s to 4 million per year in the 2020s³.

The species mix is controversial. Native birch purists argue that only birch belongs in Icelandic reforestation; foresters point out that introduced species grow twice as fast, sequester more carbon and produce timber. The compromise: birch for biodiversity and landscape, conifers for production and carbon. Both are counted in the growing 45,000-hectare total³.

Private planting has joined the state effort. Organisations like Reforesting Iceland and the carbon-offset registry Kolviður allow individuals and companies to fund tree planting on degraded land, and private landowners are increasingly fencing birch seedlings to allow natural regeneration without planting⁵.

The carbon angle has transformed the economics. Tree planting that was once funded as a forestry programme is now also funded as a climate solution: every hectare of new forest sequesters carbon, and Icelandic carbon-offset schemes sell this sequestration to companies and individuals who want to offset their emissions. The Kolviður registry, operated by the Icelandic Forestry Service, connects planters with offset buyers, and the revenue has made planting programmes financially sustainable in a way that grant funding alone never was³. The change in scale is remarkable: the forest service that planted 100,000 trees a year in the 1950s now plants 4 million a year, and the species palette has grown from birch alone to a dozen introduced species chosen for growth rate, timber quality and carbon sequestration. The birch remains the backbone of the native woodland restoration, but the introduced species have changed what Icelandic forestry means: from scrub conservation to timber production, from landscape repair to carbon farming, from a hobby for enthusiasts to a profession with its own schools, journals and international conference circuit³. The forest service's own research station at Mógilsá tests species from around the circumpolar world for suitability in Icelandic conditions, and the results feed directly into the planting programme - a continuous experiment in what can grow at 65 degrees north.

The biggest forest in Iceland

The largest forest in Iceland is Hallormsstaðaskógur in the east, covering about 740 hectares⁴ - and it is, remarkably, the biggest forest in a country the size of Kentucky. The birchwood remnants at Hallormsstaður farm were protected in 1905, making it Iceland's first national forest. Today, birch forest and woodland cover about 350 hectares within the original fenced area, and a variety of introduced species have been planted across the wider estate⁴.

Iceland's other significant forests and woodlands are similarly modest by continental standards. The Þingvellir birchwoods cover about 200 hectares; the Þórsmörk birchwoods at the foot of Eyjafjallajökull cover about 150; and the Húsafell birchwoods in the west cover about 90⁴. Each of these is a national treasure - and each is smaller than a single average-sized forest in Sweden or Finland⁴.

Fire under the birch: why trees matter

Iceland's trees are not just a cultural curiosity; they are an active part of the country's climate and erosion strategy. The original birchwoods held soil on steep slopes, and their roots prevented the wind and water erosion that has stripped Icelandic highlands to bare gravel since the forests were cleared. Reforestation is therefore not just about trees - it is about soil conservation, carbon sequestration and the restoration of an ecosystem that was destroyed by the first human settlers³.

The Icelandic Forest Service's goal is to increase forest cover to 10% of the country by 2100 - a target that would require planting at rates well above the current 4 million trees per year for the next 75 years. Whether Iceland reaches that target depends on continued funding, continued public support and the continued patience of a landscape that has been slow to forgive the mistakes of the first settlers³.

How the numbers connect

The Iceland forest percentage question connects to almost every other environmental statistic about the country. The forest that was cleared held soil on steep slopes, and its roots prevented the wind and water erosion that has stripped Icelandic highlands to bare gravel since the trees were removed. Reforestation is therefore not just about trees - it is about soil conservation, carbon sequestration and the restoration of an ecosystem that was destroyed by the first human settlers³.

The forest question also connects to the country's climate targets. Iceland has pledged to reach carbon neutrality by 2050, and forest expansion is one of the main tools for meeting that goal. Every hectare of new forest sequesters carbon, and the Icelandic Forest Service's planting programme is the country's primary carbon-removal strategy³. The 45,000-hectare total is still small by continental standards, but the rate of expansion has increased steadily and the target of 10% forest cover by 2100 would require sustained planting at the current rate for the next 75 years⁶.

The species that survive here

Only one tree species is truly native to Iceland in any abundance: the downy birch (Betula pubescens), which formed the original birchwoods that covered the lowlands. The birch that survives today is stunted and twisted compared with continental birch - a result of centuries of grazing, browsing and harsh conditions. Icelandic birch rarely exceeds 10 metres in height, and the "forests" it forms are often dense, waist-high scrub rather than woodland in the continental sense³.

The introduced species that thrive in Iceland are mostly from Siberia and Alaska - regions with similar subarctic climates. Siberian larch is the most successful planted conifer, growing straight trunks that produce usable timber in 40-60 years. Sitka spruce from the Pacific Northwest grows fastest in the wetter western and southern regions. Black cottonwood from Alaska holds the record for the fastest growth of any tree in Icelandic trials. All three were chosen because they can withstand Icelandic wind, frost and short growing seasons while producing usable wood³.

Hallormsstaðaskógur demonstrates what is possible when grazing is excluded and planting is sustained. Its 740 hectares include Siberian larch that reaches 20 metres in height - taller than most buildings in rural Iceland - and a canopy dense enough to create its own microclimate⁴.

The cultural relationship

Iceland's relationship with trees is cultural as much as ecological. The country has almost no tradition of forestry - the word skógar (forests) in place names refers to birch scrub that disappeared centuries ago. Children grow up in a landscape without trees, and the few wooded areas that exist are treated with a reverence that visitors from forested countries find disproportionate.

The reforestation project is therefore a cultural project as much as an ecological one. Every new forest is a statement about what Iceland wants to become - a country that replants what its ancestors destroyed, that grows its own timber instead of importing it, and that offers its children the experience of walking through a wood. The trees are also a climate symbol: Iceland's carbon-neutrality pledge depends on the forests it plants, and the planting rate is one of the few climate metrics that has improved every year for two decades³.

The tourism connection is direct. Hallormsstaðaskógur, Þórsmörk and the birchwoods of Þingvellir are destinations in themselves - and the contrast between forested and treeless landscapes is one of the things that makes Icelandic hiking distinctive. Visitors from forested countries often photograph Icelandic trees the way Icelandic visitors photograph European cathedrals: as something their own landscape cannot produce⁴.

Conclusions

1. Iceland's forest covers 2%¹ of the country - the lowest in Europe - down from 25-40% at settlement, a loss that took only a few centuries².
2. The recovery is real but slow: 100 million trees planted since 1950 have grown the forest from 7,000 to 45,000 hectares, a sixfold increase that still leaves Iceland Europe's least-forested country³.
3. Hallormsstaðaskógur at 740 hectares is the national giant - and its small size is a reminder that Iceland's entire forest would fit inside a single average Swedish municipality⁴.
4. The species mix is a compromise between native purists and production foresters: birch for biodiversity, larch and spruce for carbon and timber, and both for the soil that the original deforestation stripped away³.
5. The 2020s planting rate of 4 million trees per year is the highest in Icelandic history, but reaching 10% forest cover - the level some reforestation advocates propose - would take another century at current rates⁶.