Icelandic cashmere

Cashmere!  Seriously!  I have to admit my ignorance.  I really thought that cashmere came from a special breed of ... well, I probably thought it was sheep.  But it's goats.  I really didn't know that it isn't the breed that determines if the wool is cashmere or not, but basically the combination of fiber diameter (in microns) and the length of the fiber. Cashmere is between 14 and 18,5 microns (human hair is around 50 microns) and the length of the fiber should be no less than 32mm (11/4") in relaxed state (crimped).

The Icelandic goat is a small breed, originally Norwegian.   They have very long and coarse guard hairs, but under that they have high quality luxurious cashmere fiber.  In recent tests the fiber qualified as cashmere in terms of the diameter, but comes in just short in the length.  So technically it can't be called cashmere, but I don't care.  It's absolutely lovely to the touch and I can't wait to try to spin it.

Since Iceland was very isolated for a number decades our livestock, which came with the Vikings just after 800 AC, has evolved to be uniquely Icelandic.  We therefore have our distinct horses and sheep, and also have our wonderful Icelandic cattle, the very colourful poultry and the cheerful Icelandic goats.  Importing foreign animals is not allowed, mostly to prevent diseases since past experiments have unfortunately brought us diseases that are still being battled today.  Just a few years ago some harmless virus came from Europe, probably via unclean equipment, and was transmitted to the defenseless Icelandic horse, killing large numbers of them.  So even if the laws about animal imports can sometimes be annoying and sound very strict, experience has taught us that we can not be too careful. And at least we are still free of rabies in this country.

The Icelandic goat is an endangered species.  In 2011 there were 818 goats in the country and until breeding females number over 1000 they will be in danger of extinction.  There are a few individual farmers who are breeding goats in order to preserve them, mostly working without much support from government.  The breeding now, is only aimed towards reducing inbreeding and trying to get the most variabilty into the heard.  Hopefully that will be successful and the breeders can then concentrate on specific aims like the quality of the wool or milk or meat.  I recently visited one of the farm, the largest, Háafell.

Needless to say I fell hopelessly in love with these charming and sociable creatures.  They are very cuddly amimals and litterally jump up on you to get a cuddle.  I have been wanting goats for the longest time and now I know why.  They are just like pets.  And cute too. Even the large males are adorable with their large horns.

The survival of the Icelandic goats is of course hugely dependent on economic issues.  Can they be bred profitably?  Well, we'll have to see, but did buy quite a bit of wool as well as some cheese and meat.  I also volunteered to come and comb the goats when the time comes to do that in April.  In the meantime I've been busy cleaning the wool, both washing it and removing the coarser guard hair.  The resulting fiber is temptingly soft and I really, really need to get better at spinning very soon so that I can make some lovely yarn for a sweater for myself.

Icelandic wool

I am fascinated by the wonderful materials that nature provides.  I was therefore rather surprised, when  traveling recently, to discover that not everyone shares my preference.  I love to knit and crochet, so I took some wool with me, both Icelandic lopi and some of the Alpaca that I had dyed with lichen.  It surprised me that almost everyone I met, who was knitting or crocheting, was using acrylic or some other synthetic yarn in screaming bright colours.  I just don't understand why anyone would spend all that time on handiwork, and not use the best materials.  I just don't get it.  But I was polite and said nothing.  Each to his own.  But I still don't get it.

The old saying: "The grass is always greener on the other side of the river" is so true.  Very often I feel slightly envious over the abundance of material available to people who live in other, most often warmer, countries.   Eventually I stopped looking into the distance and discovered right at my feet the most wonderful materials, a wealth of medicinal and dye plants and of course the precious eiderdown and now, my latest discovery:  Icelandic wool.

It has always been there and we learn at an early age in school that it kept the nation alive through decades of misery, it has unique properties, yada, yada, yada...  And I never really gave it any thought.  I have been using it for dyeing for some time and I have always thought that I had full appreciation of it, but now I realize that I really didn't know what it was all about.  I just started an evening class about how to prepare and spin and I just  fell in love.  The teacher, who happens to be a neighbor in the allotment garden, brought raw fleece, just the way it comes off the sheep, but washed.  And we started from there.

But first a little bit about the Icelandic wool and it's unique properties (that's the yada-yada part).  The thing is that, like other primitive sheep species, Icelandic sheep have two types of hairs.  The outer coat, called "tog", is coarse and shiny, and the fibers are very long, 10-45 cm / 4-18 inches.  It is water repellent and serves to keep the inner coat dry.  The inner coat, "þel" (or thel) is only 5-10 cm / 2-4 inches long, but much finer and softer.   Traditionally the two were separated and treated quite differently to produce completely different materials.  And I had never, ever touched pure þel before I attended the class.  The reason is that the two types of hairs can only be separated by hand.  All attempts to make a machine to do that have failed.  All the Icelandic wool that is produced commercially is a combination of the two and as a consequence it is quite coarse and scratchy.  It's fine for Lopapeysa (the Icelandic sweater), but not for anything that one would like to have next to the skin.  So þel wool can not be bought in stores here, it has to be made by hand, but no one is doing that.  So I look forward to having a completely new material to work with.

Tog is combed, rather than carded, with viking combs and I haven't tried that yet.  I understand that it is always spun as a worsted, which means that the fibers are all paralell.  It is and is also a completely new material to me.  Even if it is coarse, it has a lustre that makes it perfect for embroidery thread, warp thread in weaving and for strong and water repellent outer garments.

I've been separating tog from þel and carding the þel.  It's wonderfully soft and completely different in feel from Lopi, the Icelandic wool that I've been dyeing.  I just tried my hand at spinning some and it was quite fun.  I got Abby Franquemont's book Respect the Spindle and highly recommend it.  I have along way to go, but I really, really think this will be fun.