First Sunday of June  ·  Since 1938

Sjómannadagurinn

Iceland’s Fishermen’s Day

A day when the ships stay docked and Iceland comes home to the sea.

Bolungarvík, Westfjords
Lake Winnipeg
Manitoulin Island

Ósvör Maritime Museum, Bolungarvík, Westfjords  ·  Arden Jackson, 2015

Traditional turf-roofed fishing huts on the shore with a green wooden boat and mountains behind

Every first Sunday of June, Iceland pauses. The fishing boats stay at harbour. The nets are left alone. Fishermen — the backbone of Iceland’s economy and identity for a thousand years — spend the day exactly as they deserve: with family, on the water for pleasure, and at tables full of the sea’s finest gifts.

Sjómannadagurinn — Fishermen’s Day — has been celebrated since 1938, when the first festivities were held simultaneously in Reykjavík and in Ísafjörður, in the Westfjords. That pairing feels right to me. The capital and those dramatic fjords, both looking out to the same sea that has fed and shaped Iceland since the first settlers arrived around 900 AD.

What happens on the day

The sea as celebration

Across Iceland, every town with a fishing harbour marks Sjómannadagurinn in its own way — boat rides, dances, speeches, seafood feasts. The largest festivities gather in the Grandi district near Reykjavík’s harbour. But the spirit is the same everywhere: pride, gratitude, and the pleasure of the sea enjoyed freely.

One of the most beloved Fishermen’s Day towns is Bolungarvík, tucked into the far tip of the Westfjords. It is a place our Farm Fest host Lynn Thordarson knows in her bones — her family’s roots trace directly to that rugged, sea-facing community. There is something quietly powerful about celebrating Sjómannadagurinn together knowing that connection runs so deep.

A red enamel coffee pot on a windowsill inside a traditional Icelandic fishing hut at Ósvör, seen through a dark wooden window frame. Arden Jackson 2015

Our own fishermen

From the North Atlantic to Lake Winnipeg

The Icelanders who came to Canada in the 1870s didn’t leave the water behind — they followed it. My Afi was a fisherman on Lake Winnipeg, raising a family of nine children on the catch and the work and the patience that fishing demands. The lake was cold and vast and unforgiving, not so different from the waters the family had known before. He gave his family everything he had from that boat.

On Sjómannadagurinn — a day set aside to honour exactly that kind of life — I think of him. And of Lynn’s family in Bolungarvík, hauling nets in the Westfjords. And of all the fishermen, on every shore, whose work fed families and built communities that are still celebrating together today.

Kaffitími

What every good celebration needs

Whether at the harbour in Bolungarvík, on the shores of Lake Winnipeg, or at a farm table in Grey County, there is one thing every Icelandic gathering has always had in common: kaffitími. Coffee time. A perfect cup, a slice of Vínarterta, and whatever else has come warm and fragrant from the oven — the unhurried moment when stories are told, connections are made, and the day feels worth savouring.

That spirit — and that pioneer coffee pot — is at the heart of Valkyrie Kaffi, my small-batch coffee created in collaboration with Kimber Valley Farms and Believer Coffee Company here in Ontario. Every bag comes with an eBook — Vikings, Valkyries & Kaffitími — so wherever you are, you can bring the stories of Iceland right to your cup.