On nature-based tourism

Abstract

As tourism has become a key driver of socio-economic progress as one of the largest and fastest growing economic sectors in the world (UNWTO, 2012), an ever increasing numbers of destinations have opened up and invested in tourism development. One of the most rapidly growing sectors is nature-based tourism (NBT; Fredman and Tyrväinen, 2010). Especially since the turn of the millennium, this growth has been linked to increasing demand for various forms of recreation, relaxation and entertainment in natural environments, as well as to successful marketing campaigns (Samgönguráðuneytið, 2004).

A wide variety of interpretations have been produced to account for NBT (Dowling, 2001; Hall and Boyd, 2005; Laarman and Durst, 1987; Lang and O’Leary, 1997; Valentine, 1992). Although no universally agreed definition has been agreed upon, the general interpretation of NBT is that it builds on the draw of nature for various leisure activities, being

Leisure travel undertaken largely or solely for the purpose of enjoying natural attractions and engaging in a variety of outdoor activities. Bird watching, hiking, fishing, and beachcombing are all examples of nature-based tourism. (Travel Industry Dictionary, 2012)

The attraction to ‘nature’ refers to the term in its broadest sense – the natural world and the material and abstract phenomena that comprise it form the basis of a great variety of touristic practices.

The appeal of nature for leisure and tourism practices has a relatively short history when compared to cultural tourism, which has been traced back to classical times and the journeys to see the Seven Wonders of the World (Meyer-Arendt, 2004). Motivationally, spiritual worship, commerce, war, health, art and self-sustenance have propelled nature travels throughout history, and some of these form part of NBT’s multiple origins (Meyer-Arendt, 2004). Yet, it was not until the late seventeenth century, when specific cosmological ideas developed and science brought forth provocative geological theories about the Earth’s creation, that nature, and natural landscape in particular, became an ‘object of desire’ within the fabric of Western tourism (see Macfarlane, 2003; Williams, 1972). At this time, the scientific discoveries of Galileo and Newton, and the rational philosophy of Descartes, conceived the natural world as a set of laws, the creation of which could be explained and forecast in rational, mathematical or geometrical terms. Crucially, this made God’s role as creator and ruler dispensable and created perceived ontological gap between humans and the natural world. According to Gregory (2001: 92), this ideological separation of nature from a ruling God provided fundamental objective elements that enabled a process of enframing nature, in the sense that dominant humans were able to treat nature as a picture, constructing certain images and visibilities through which the natural world could be understood and/or utilised.¹ What followed was a dichotomous vision of the human–nature relationship in Western civilisation that coincided with a general belief that nature once existed in a genuinely original state (first nature). This ‘first nature’ was conceived in two very different ways (Whatmore, 1999). Both visions have been crucial for the development of NBT.

For some, especially (Christian) industrialists, first nature was the wild, unruly and savage nature outside the Garden of Eden in which the sinners landed after the fall. This vision, representing original nature as hostile and harsh to humans, became one of the ideological foundations of the European Enlightenment (Macnaghten and Urry, 1998) in the eighteenth century, advocating advancement of society via scientific discoveries and knowledge. The Enlightenment took this passive conception of nature to the extreme and encouraged individuals to strive actively for progress (cf. Kant, 1993 [1784]). The ‘picture’ it drew of the relationship between humans and nature was characterised by ruthless anthropocentric Utilitarianism. The main task of civilisation, individuals and societies, was to be able to decide its own destiny, and therefore, to master the ‘disadvantages’ of nature was key for the progress (and happiness) of humans, the superior, ‘enlightened’ species. Since ‘natural laws’ were (for believers) considered God’s laws, interfering with the processes of the material world became accepted as continuation of God’s creation. Later, it was argued that human interference was so inevitable that it must be perceived as ‘extension of nature and of a naturalised order’ (Macnaghten and Urry, 1998: 11). The ideology and discourse of Utilitarianism, along with economic forces and broader social movements, subsequently guided Western culture through the industrial revolution and continuous urbanisation, with great transformative effects on physical nature that became a resource/raw material/commodity for common (human) good.

Paradoxically, but in a manner that is essential to the development of NBT, the scientific discourse also created a different and particular kind of interest, respect and sensibility for beauty in natural landscapes. Backed-up with scientific theories of geology, it was indeed the wild and unruly processes, performances and characteristics of landscapes devoid of human interference (later termed wilderness in the North-American discourse (see Nash, 1982)) that initially attracted people to explore nature for its own sake (Macfarlane, 2003). The idea behind the attraction was that natural appearance, the movements and geophysical forces that natural entities are made up of might have a story to tell about the formation of the Earth (Macfarlane, 2003). Wild and mountainous landscapes, oceans, icecaps and deserts that, since the end of classical history, had been avoided and feared for their unruly and savage characteristics became sought, discovered, respected and appreciated (first by scientists and explorers and later by others) for their overwhelmingly powerful, chaotic, cataclysmic and informative characteristics and sublime beauty – a term developed by Burke (1990 [1757]) to describe the lofty thoughts and inspiration that tended to arise within the brave gazing subjects when coming across something so delightfully terrifying as a grand glacier, abysmal gorge or erupting volcano.

Another important contribution for the development of NBT were the nature-pursuits of European artists and writers who as early as the Renaissance period were inclined to follow the footsteps of their ancient Greek and Roman forerunners who sought peace and comfort to write and paint in pastoral natures. Inspired by the ecocentric organic worldview of Greek mythology and its conception of nature as Arcadia, home of Pan the god of wild nature and animals, hunters, herders and pastoral music, these artists drew on a very different Christian vision of first nature. This vision conceived nature as a state of original innocence tied to the myth of the Garden of Eden before the fall – a state characterised by peace and goodwill, mutual assistance and co-operation (Macnaghten and Urry, 1998). These Renaissance artists spent their time in nature illustrating ancient poems about herders’ love and lives in these idyllic landscapes. The realists among them strived to capture the precise shapes and characteristics of various creatures of nature – plants, animals and humans (Gombrich, 1997). They, like their Greek predecessors, sensed in their pursuits a possibility to get away from civilisation for a while and get a chance to get in touch with their spiritual side, think things through and become introspective. They discovered they felt better, both mentally and physically, in nature than in their everyday urban environments. Consequently, for them, nature earned a positive status as a serene, alluring and beautifully complex, spiritual place – a stance they mediated through their art. Among them were the first landscape paintings, work of Dutch and Italian artists in particular, who for the very first time in art history made landscape a focal point of their creation and painted it in the effort to conjure up feelings (Gold and Revill, 2004). These paintings (e.g. mountainous grand terrain of the Alps and other untouched expanses, often with Christian references) were among the cultural pieces that tourists of the Renaissance period (participants of the Grand Tour) bought and brought home with them from their culturally focused tours. Subsequently, it contributed to individual perceptions of the natural world and helped with the development of opening people’s eyes to the beauty of nature, which stressed a specific ideological gap between humans and nature – a gap between the man-made world of civilisation, orderliness, rules and technology and the natural world of spiritual, true and superior processes (Gombrich, 1997).

Twinned with a growing general interest in science, in particular biology and natural history, this ecocentric vision of first nature then became fundamental to the development of nineteenth-century Romanticism – a widely influential ideological reaction to the political and social misgivings accompanying large-scale industrialisation and urbanisation (Gold and Revill, 2004). Advocating emotionality, individuality, originality, love for nature and natural processes, nationalism and an interest in the culture of common folk, Romanticism worked effectively against the passive scientific and rational outlook. Again, its advocates were artists and writers who based their influential work on their own experiences:

Never did I think so much, exist so vividly, and experience so much, never have I been so much myself – if I may use that expression – as in the journeys I have taken alone and on foot. There is something about walking which stimulates and enlivens my thoughts. When I stay in one place I can hardly think at all; my body has to be on the move to set my mind going. The sight of the countryside, the succession of pleasant views, the open air, a sound appetite, and the good health I gain by walking, the easy atmosphere of an inn, the absence of everything that makes me feel my dependence, of everything that recalls me to my situation – all these serve to free my spirit, to lend a greater boldness to my thinking, so that I can combine them, select them, and make them mine as I will, without fear or restraint. (Rousseau, 2004 [1782]; cited in Solnit, 2001: 19)

Rousseau and other pioneers of Romanticism² took up the thread where the Renaissance artists had left it, creating foundations for nature travels and exploration, and initially, making the practice of walking more than just the travel mode of the poor, a meditative tool for the (Christian) thinker and a health treatment for the ill. Walking was conceived as the way to access nature and thereby get away from civilisation for a while and experience the freedom of being able to escape the pressures of the everyday and take in natural beauty – all at once a wonderful aesthetic experience and a technique to access a more authentic self and other (Solnit, 2001). ‘Being in nature’, therefore, corrects the psychological damage that everyday urban life inflicts upon the human being with its life-destroying emotions connected to pursuing life and striving for happiness via material possessions and social status (Thoreau, 1995 [1854]). ‘Being away from it all’ allows for a sense of freedom from everyday burdens and brings us back to the basic processes of survival. The natural world exemplifies certain values and morals and shows how to live together in harmony. In nature, therefore, we begin to respect, appreciate and admire the existence and workings of the smallest of things – the whiteness of the lily, the stillness of the lake and the warmth of the shining sun – that somehow bring out the best in us (see De Botton, 2002; Rousseau, 2004 [1782]). Being in nature allows us to realise (or remember) what is important in life and see our life as a blessing – ‘to get things back into perspective’ – and the regenerating effect on the human psyche comes like a ‘natural’ side effect with that (see Thoreau, 1995 [1854]). Consequently, the Romantic idea gradually developed that human beings need to ‘go back to nature’ to restore the lost connection to oneself and nature and gain the therapeutic effect that comes with it.

In the first instance, Romanticism sponsored two types of NBT. People went to nature to follow the footsteps of the great (scientific) explorers searching for a new and unforgettable sublime experience in ‘wild’ nature where the emphasis was on getting in touch with grand and unpredictable natural phenomena (Macfarlane, 2003). This type of tourism called for courage and physical ability on behalf of the individual traveller and offered the possibility of adventurous excitement and the potential for discovering something new about the world and oneself in extreme conditions. The other type of NBT involved looking for the picturesque landscapes that artists and writers represented, conjuring a longing to see them – or gaze upon them, as Urry (1990) would have it – with their own eyes (Meyer-Arendt, 2004). This softer form of tourism was based on the search for natural beauty and linked to the inviting and nurturing qualities of the natural world, where one might escape the stresses of everyday (urban) life for a while. Dwelling in such a natural landscape promoted the possibility of a feel-good experience of freedom, relaxation and peace in the presence of serene beauty.

When nature became broadly accepted as a wondrous place to be, it opened up possibilities for the development of different kinds of tourism. Apart from the Romantic search for the sublime and picturesque in nature, Meyer-Arendt (2004) identifies seven other themes that also contributed to the development of the current appeal of nature for leisure and tourism: hunting and fishing and the search for better climate and health are deeply rooted in the human history of subsistence and survival; the springs and seaside tradition, the curiosity for wild animals and the postulation of nature as a religious experience have roots in classical Greek and Roman history; the parks and recreation movement started with the growing need for exercise and play and access to greenery in urban areas in the wake of industrialisation; and later time exploration involves following in the footsteps of the great explorers of the late 1700s with varying degrees of luxury and hardship. These themes have been taken forward in various ways. Weaver (2001; see also Weaver et al., 1999) identified 70 different NBT activities in six categories, classified according to different levels of reliance upon nature and assumed motivations of travel: (1) adventure tourism, involving elements of risk, high levels of physical exertion and need for specialised skills (abseiling, cave diving, caving, cliff diving, dog sledding, downhill skiing and four-wheel driving); (2) ecotourism, possessing the appearance of sustainability and involving learning and educational experience within (what at least appears) an environmentally friendly setting (bird-watching, nature observation, nature photography, outdoor education, stargazing and whale watching); (3) 3S tourism, taking place in sun–sand–sea settings (boating, sailing, sunbathing, surfing and swimming); (4) captive tourism, based on an enthusiasm for wild and exotic flora and fauna (aquariums, arboretums, botanical gardens, wildlife parks and zoos); (5) extractive tourism, involving elements of self-sustenance (berry picking, fishing and hunting); and (6) health tourism, propelled by motivations to enhance health and well-being (mud bathing, nature retreats and spas).

Although much of contemporary NBT takes place in peripheral alpine, forest, sub-polar, island, costal and marine environments across the globe (Hall and Boyd, 2005), the development has been such that the attraction – the natural phenomena that was initially the main draw – has in some cases been dwarfed/swamped/submerged by infrastructures and various services on offer to tourists (Saarinen, 2004). This development started very early on and can be partly traced back to the trailblazing transport companies and their economic strategies to find ways to profit from their investments, expanding opportunities to evoke a need for services (Meyer-Arendt, 2004; see also Hughes, 2011 [1998]). This is also partly due to demand by tourists for extra services, as exemplified by the rich who travelled to the hot springs for health and healing purposes in Renaissance England, who desired additional entertainment (Meyer-Arendt, 2004). A striking example of the effect of these processes is the development of the spring and seaside tradition in the 1700s, which started off as a practice of healing (thalassotherapy) and now provides the basis of sun–sand–sea tourism that now often takes place in urbanised settings, where numerous activities are brought together, and the original motivation for travel is obscure. Accordingly, we have lost sight of ‘nature’ in some types of NBT.

In terms of tourism staff training, as Pearce (1991) points out, there is an over-emphasis on the role of the service provided to the tourists to the cost of knowledge about the destination and its fundamental draw. Even as tourists, De Botton (2002) notes, we may like to spend our holidays sunbathing, sailing or hiking in the mountains, but we do not generally reflect deeply about why or how we travel.

Touristic spatialities and nature–society relationships have received increased academic attention in the wake of the cultural and performative turn in academia (see Olafsdottir, 2011), and this work has characterised the multidimensional lived spaces of tourism (Crouch, 2002; Edensor, 2000; and specifically for NBT, see Cloke and Perkins, 1998, 2005; Desmond, 1999; Fullagar, 2000). However, in the industry, a common sense cultural understanding that holiday tourism is a time of escape from the stress and strains of the everyday life (Edensor, 2007) persists, and progress in tourism is measured in increased visitation and economic profit. Nonetheless, all NBT destinations, businesses and economies across the globe seem to rely heavily on the complex lure of ‘nature’ to prosper. Icelandic NBT is an interesting case in this respect.

In February 2011, about 300 people gathered at the Reykjavík Art Museum to attend a one-off international and interdisciplinary conference and public meeting, Practising Nature-Based Tourism, a grass roots’ project conceived and organised by two tour guides who aimed to develop a critical discussion to enrich the local discourse about Iceland as a tourist destination.

The inspiration for the project was the ever-increasing flow of domestic and international tourists through Iceland. The country’s mountainous and glacial terrain, volcanic upheavals and spouting geysers have attracted periodic visits by scientists and explorers for over 300 years. Until the 1980s, when annual visitor numbers were around 65,000, tourist arrivals started to pick up. In 2012, the annual number was over 650,000, with the largest increase in the last 10 years (The Icelandic Tourist Board, 2012). Currently, tourism is the second-largest industry, after fisheries (with power-intensive industries in third place), touching almost every sector within the Icelandic economy (Einarsson, 1996; Jónsson, 2004) and producing 23,5% of Iceland’s total export revenues (Icelandic Tourist Board, 2013). The booming tourism has brought hope to Icelanders who relied heavily upon the industry as a key factor in dealing with the 2008 economic crisis. Fast and growing demand, optimistic forecasts and the fact that Iceland was one of Lonely Planet’s (2012) readers’ top 10 destinations in 2012 and 2013 have continued to encourage the industry and its ever increasing number of firms (see Hávardsson, 2013; Sigfússon (former Minister of Industries and Innovation), 2012). Although economically promising, this sudden touristic interest also raises concerns. Apart from the fact that Iceland houses roughly 300,000 inhabitants, increased visitation might actually threaten what people have come to Iceland to experience. According to the Icelandic Ministry of Communications (2002), the official understanding of the resource underpinning Icelandic tourism are nature-places (1) formed through the unique interactions of fire and ice without (visible) human interference and (2) bearing the marks of a particular historical interconnection between the Icelandic nation and the natural world, such as Þingvellir National Park – a space that offers visitors to experience two of the continental plates but also a place chosen by the settlers in the year 930 for the establishment and annual meetings of Alþingi, the oldest national parliament in the world. Surveys conducted by the Icelandic Travel Industry Association (2011) indicate that around 80% of incoming tourists do come to Iceland to ‘spend time in nature’. This increased demand, then, is worrying since Iceland houses one of the largest wilderness areas in Europe (Thorhallsdottir, 2007), large areas have limited infrastructure and some areas have already had their natural habitat irreparably affected by the impact of tourists (Gísladóttir, 2003). Marrying a sense of crowding and ‘getting-away-from-it-all’ also seems an unlikely task (cf. Thoreau, 1992 [1862]). Vast areas of Iceland still appear as if no one has ever visited there, yet the economy is expanding rapidly and haphazardly with little concern for the kind of natural landscapes required by the tourism industry.

In this respect, the Icelandic government has been proactive in the last few years in developing power-intensive industry as part of the economic policy, harnessing new hydro- and geothermal electricity resources with consequential transformative effects on the environment (some chosen undemocratically despite official negative environmental impact assessments; Benediktsson, 2007). Consequently, new planned power-line constructions will cross ‘untouched’ lava fields, valleys, salmon rivers and fjords, transforming a landscape that is currently offered to and perceived by tourists as pure and wild (Olafsdottir, 2009). A recent study shows that local officials responsible for giving building permits for infrastructure for electricity production and delivery do not take tourists’ ‘needs’ into account when it comes to the appearance of the landscape; indeed, there are indications of wider assumptions that the natural appearance of landscape does not need to be preserved for NBT tourism (Olafsdottir, 2009).³ In addition and related to this point is the consideration that tourism in general is characteristically fugitive with the rise and fall of tourist destinations (see Butler, 1980). Demand can surge but also die if destinations lose their attraction due to various human and non-human activities – as the Eyjafjallajökull eruption certainly warned in 2010, although it later became a booster for Icelandic tourism (Benediktsson et al., 2011). Iceland is thus faced with a dilemma: wanting to increase tourism for economic purposes and still be able to sell the ‘natural’ and ‘exotic’ as the core product.

The conference offered a forum to discuss the urgent question: What measures are viable and necessary for sustainable NBT in Iceland? The organisers suggested that there was much more to know about the embodied, subjective state of ‘being’ and ‘being in (Icelandic) nature’ in the touristic context in order to take intelligent measures forward. For them, Icelandic nature is simply too precious to be spoiled by industrialists that need an immediate ‘fix’.

To open up the multidimensional realities of NBT practices, scholars from various fields of study were invited from the local and international academic community to present work on the tourist, the destination and the tour-operator (see Deforges, 2005). The event culminated in a panel discussion where invited professionals from the tourism industry and government had the chance to reflect on the academic discussions and address the critical development of Iceland as a NBT destination. Despite successfully bringing all these different people together, it was very clear that while the academics largely focused on the tourist and the lived spaces of NBT, the tourism professionals and administrators were business and policy orientated. The panel stressed the need for more research, called for urgent steps to produce land-use policies especially for the wilderness region and stressed the need to raise awareness within the industry of the importance of environmental friendly practices and co-operation among tour-operators and local and national authorities. There was little concern about individual experience of being in nature or exploring what brings people to Iceland in the first place – despite these factors being the very essence that these different actors want to support, serve and base individual livelihoods, business and the Icelandic economy on. Year after year, Icelandic tourism strategies and policies have been made without knowing why tourists are increasingly attracted to Icelandic nature, how people perceive and engage with their surroundings on tour or understanding tourists’ relationship between image and experience. This special issue explores these and other compelling issues.

Unnur Birna Karlsdottir paves the way with her article ‘Nature Worth Seeing! The Tourist Gaze as a Factor in Shaping Views on Icelandic Nature’, where she describes how the development of Icelandic tourism has been closely tied to the romanticised wildness that people have long associated with Icelandic nature. As early as the second half of the nineteenth century, Iceland became known as country of natural extremes and contrasts, where the elements of fire and ice characterise its sublime beauty, and unforeseen adventures may happen in a landscape that is in constant creation. These notions construed Iceland as a pristine country with vast empty spaces where one could come into touch with untouched natural beauty. The paper introduces how NBT was initially a blessing for environmental concerns. Giving nature a special status as a place worth seeing and perceiving, it conjured a need to protect Icelandic nature for the very first time. Thus, nature-protection measures in Iceland are first and foremost driven by the economic concern that natural landscape is a valuable resource for tourism. The question now, however, is how to tackle the growing demand, which threatens to negatively affect this resource.

In her article ‘Experiencing Nature in Nature-Based Tourism’, Katrin Anna Lund turns the attention away from the pre-constructed and fixed human associations traditionally been linked to Icelandic nature to the varied non-human and human performances that come together and co-constitute the lived spaces of holiday NBT. She argues for the tourism industry to acknowledge the vitality of non-human agency in touristic spatialities. Drawing on her own experience of a trip to Snæfellsjökull Glacier, she describes a journey from Reykjavík city to the west of Iceland where the event was affected by a host of non-human performances that went beyond expectations.

In ‘Situating Nature: Ruins of Modernity as “Nátttúruperlur”’, Gísli Pálsson strikes a similar note when emphasising the processual, poetic and person specific in touristic attractions and experiences. He suggests that the most moving moments on tour might not be related to what has been classified as the natural features, destinations or focal points in an itinerary, but the unplanned detour, the happenstance stop or the haphazard thing that one happens to come across. Drawing on his own experiences of the ruins of a 1948 shipwreck, an abandoned town from the 1930s and an army base from the World War II, he demonstrates how the thing-power of spaces and objects can surprise, divert attention away from natural features and offer powerful opportunities for reflection. Pálsson argues that tourism should actively work against sensory habitualisation and make room for poetic enactments as they may be the most affective.

Karl Benediktsson and Edward Huijbens also raise awareness of the complexity and singularity of the tourist experience in their article, ‘Inspiring the Visitor? Landscapes and Horizons of Hospitality’. Their article discusses the ways in which Icelandic tourism marketing tends to mediate stereotyped landscape experiences as a given, instead of recognising that tourist and landscape interact to produce distinctive experiences. Benediktsson and Huijbens speculate that if landscape is to be perceived as escape, it has to be inviting, welcoming and hospitable to tourists and tourism. Moreover, via a discussion of the recent Icelandic marketing campaign Inspired by Iceland from a post-structural perspective, the authors speculate that to be potentially inspired by landscape depends upon an attitude of respect for the hospitality of the landscape.

Gunnthora Olafsdottir concludes the issue with the article, ‘…sometimes you’ve just got to get away’: On trekking holidays and their therapeutic effect.’ introducing empirical findings from an ethnographic study of the therapeutic affect of being in Icelandic nature. An important facet of the research was to understand the role of the non-human in this therapeutic process. Drawing on post-phenomenological thought, she introduces a theoretical framework that offers a way to explore how touristic spaces are lived within a human–non-human co-constituted affective process. Then, she delves into individual life stories and studies of why people travelled to Iceland and how they related to nature on tour. The study suggests that affective outcomes are person specific yet relational; that the ‘wild’ and untouched characteristics of nature are very important factors in Icelandic NBT and in the positive and therapeutic affect of being there which then bears witness to the urgent need to protect these kinds of landscapes for the sustainable development of Iceland’s tourism.

We hope that this special issue will inspire more work on the complex and multidimensional lived spaces of NBT. The work presented here is concerned with Icelandic NBT and reveals that it is based on age-old ideas about Icelandic nature and belief in the romantic and nurturing powers of ‘being-in-nature’. Much more needs to be investigated about NBT in Iceland and elsewhere, for the more we know about the nature of human–non-human interactions, the better the tourism industry can sustainably prepare for them and prosper.

Footnotes

Notes

References

Abram

(1996) The Spell of the Sensuous: Perception and Language in a More-Than-Human World. New York: Vintage Books.

Benediktsson

(2007) ‘Scenophobia, Geography and the Aesthetic Politics of Landscape’, Geografiska Annaler Series B: Human Geography 89(3): 203–17.

Benediktsson

Lund

K. A.

Huijbens

(2011) ‘Inspired by Eruptions? Eyjafjallajökull and Icelandic tourism’, Mobilities 6(1): 77–84.

Birgisson

A. V.

(2012) Blöndulína 3 (220kV) frá Blöndustöd til Akureyrar. Frummatsskýrsla. Landsnet 12009. Reykjavík: Mannvit hf.

Burke

(1990 [1757]) A Philosophical Enquiry into the Origin of Our Ideas of the Sublime and Beautiful. Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press.

Butler

R. W.

(1980) ‘The Concept of a Tourist Area Cycle of Evolution: Implications for Management of Resources’, Canadian Geographer 24(1): 5–12.

Cloke

Perkins

H. C.

(1998) ‘“Cracking the Canyon with the Awesome Foursome”: Representations of Adventure Tourism in New Zealand’, Environment and Planning D: Society & Space 16: 185–218.

Cloke

H. C. Perkins (2005) ‘Cetacean Performance and Tourism in Kaikoura, New Zealand’, Environment and Planning D: Society & Space 23(6): 903–24.

Crouch

(2002) ‘Surrounded by Place. Embodied Encounters’, pp. 207–18 in Coleman

Crang

(eds) Tourism: Between Place and Performance. New York and Oxford: Berghahn Books.

10.

De Botton

. (2002) The Art of Travel. London: Penguin Books.

11.

Deforges

(2005) ‘Travel and Tourism’, pp. 517–26 in Cloke

Crang

Goodwin

(eds) Introducing Human Geographies, 2nd edn. Oxon: Hodder Arnold.

12.

Desmond

(1999) Staging Tourism: Bodies on Display from Waikiki to Sea World. Chicago, IL and London: University of Chicago Press.

13.

Dowling

(2001) ‘Environmental Tourism’, in Douglas

Douglas

Derret

(eds) Special Interest Tourism. John Wiley & Sons Australia Ltd.

14.

Edensor

(2000) ‘Staging Tourism: Tourists as Performers’, Annals of Tourism Research 27(2): 322–44.

15.

Edensor

(2007) ‘Mundane Mobilities, Performances and Spaces of Tourism’, Social & Cultural Geography 8(2): 199–215.

16.

Einarsson

(1996) ‘The Wandering Semioticians: Tourism and the Image of Modern Iceland’, pp. 215–35 in Pálsson

Durrenberger

E. P.

(eds) Images of Contemporary Iceland: Everyday Lives and Global Contexts. Iowa City, IA: University of Iowa Press.

17.

Fredman

Tyrväinen

(2010) ‘Frontiers in Nature-Based Tourism’, Scandinavian Journal of Hospitality and Tourism 10(3): 177–89.

18.

Fullagar

(2000) ‘Desiring Nature: Identity and Becoming in Narratives of Travel’, Cultural Values 4(1): 58–76.

19.

Gísladóttir

(2003) ‘Áhrif ferðamanna á göngustíga í friðlandi á Lónsöræfum’, pp. 41–90 in Sæþórsdóttir

A. D.

(ed.) Þolmörk ferðamennsku í friðlandi á Lónsöræfum. Akureyri: Iceland Tourist Board, University of Iceland and University of Akureyri.

20.

Gold

J. R.

Revill

(2004) Representing the Environment. London and New York: Routledge.

21.

Gombrich

E. H.

(1997) The Story of Art (trans. Runólfsson

H. B.

) Reykjavík: Mál og Menning.

22.

Gregory

(2001) ‘(Post) Colonialism and the Production of Nature’, pp. 84–111 in Castree

Braun

(eds) Social Nature: Theory, Practice and Politics. Oxford: Blackwell Publishing, Inc.

23.

Hall

C.M.

Boyd

(2005) ‘Nature-Based Tourism in Peripheral Areas: Introduction’, pp.3-20 in Nature-Based Tourism in Peripheral Areas: Development or Disaster? Clevedon: Channel View Publications.

24.

Hávardsson

(2013) Fjölgun ferdamanna fædir af sér hundrud fyrirtækja [Increased tourism leads to establishment of hundreds of new firms]. Fréttablaðið, 25 February, Front page.

25.

Hughes

(2011 [1998]) ‘Tourism and the Semiological Realization of Space’, pp. 17–32 in Ringer

(ed.) Destinations: Cultural Landscapes of Tourism. London: Routledge.

26.

Icelandic Ministry of Communications (2002) Auðlindin Ísland [Iceland – The resource]. Reykjavík: Iceland Tourist Board.

27.

Iceland Tourist Board, 2013: Tourism in Iceland in figures, April 2013. Available at: http://www.ferdamalastofa.is/static/files/ferdamalastofa/talnaefni/tourism-in-iceland-in-figures-april-2013.pdf (accessed 5 June 2013).

28.

Jónsson

. (2004) ‘Þjóðhagslegur ábati ferðaþjónustu og hlutverk ríkisins’, Landabréfið 20: 51–67.

29.

Kant

(1993 [1784]) ‘What is Enlightenment?’ (trans. Jónsdóttir

E. K.

Thorsteinsdóttir

) Skírnir 167(Autumn): 379–386.

30.

Laarman

J. G.

Durst

P. B.

(1987) ‘Nature Travel in the Tropics’, Journal of Forestry 85(5): 43–46.

31.

Lang

C.-T.

O’Leary

J. T.

(1997) ‘Motivation, Participation and Preference: A Multi-Segmentation Approach of the Australian Nature Travel Marked’, Journal of Travel & Tourism Marketing 6(3): 159–80.

32.

Lonely Planet (2012) ‘The Best in Travel 2013’. The 10 best destinations for travel in 2013. BBC Worldwide. Available at: http://www.lonelyplanet.com/themes/best-in-travel-2013/top-10-countries/#ixzz2A8OShBQA (accessed 8 December 2012).

33.

Macfarlane

(2003) Mountains of the Mind: A History of Fascination. London: Granta Publications.

34.

Macnaghten

Urry

(1998) Contested Natures. London, Thousand Oaks, CA and New Delhi, India: SAGE.

35.

Meyer-Arendt

(2004) ‘Tourism and the Natural Environment’, pp. 425–37 in Lew

A. A.

Michael Hall

Williams

A.M.

(eds) A Companion to Tourism. Oxford: Blackwell Publishing, Inc.

36.

Nash

(1982) Wilderness and the American Mind, 3rd edn. New Haven, CT and London: Yale University Press.

37.

Olafsdottir

(2009) Áhrif fyrirhugaðrar háspennulínu frá Blöndustöð til Akureyrar – Blöndulínu 3- á ferðaþjónustu og útivist. Akureyri: Rannsóknamiðstöð Ferðamála.

38.

Olafsdottir

(2011) ‘Practicing Nature-Based Tourism: Introduction’, Landabréfid 25: 3–14.

39.

Olafsdottir

(2012) ‘Athugasemdir við frummatsskýrslu um lagningu Blöndulínu 3 frá Blöndustöð til Akureyrar’. Öxnadalur. Available at: http://www.oxnadalur.is/wp-content/uploads/2012/05/Athugasemdir-GO-vid-frummatsskyrslu-Blondulinu-3.pdf (accessed 22 March 2013).

40.

Pearce

P. L.

(1991) ‘Analysing Tourist Attractions’, Journal of Tourism Studies 2(1): 46–55.

41.

Rousseau

J.-J.

(2004 [1782]) The Confessions of Jean-Jacques Rousseau (E-Book #3913). Project Gutenberg. Available at: http://www.gutenberg.org/files/3913/3913-h/3913-h.htm

42.

Saarinen

(2004) ‘“Destinations in Change”: The Transformation Process of Tourist Destinations’, Tourist Studies 4(2): 161–79.

43.

Samgönguráðuneytið (2004) Ferðamálastefna 2006–2015. Reykjavík: Samgönguráðuneytið.

44.

Sigfússon

(2012) ‘Metár í ferðaþjónustu’, Fréttablaðið, 15 December, 22.

45.

Solnit

(2001) Wanderlust: A History of Walking. London and New York: Verso.

46.

The Icelandic Tourist Board (2012) ‘Statistics’. Tourist arrivals to Leifsstod, international airport in 2011 and 2012. Available at: http://www.ferdamalastofa.is/Category.mvc/Display/503 (accessed 13 January 2013).

47.

Thoreau

H. D.

(1992 [1862]) Walking. Bedford: Applewood Books.

48.

Thorhallsdottir

T. E.

(2007) ‘Environment and Energy in Iceland: A Comparative Analysis of Values and Impacts’, Environmental Impact Assessment Review 27(6): 522–44.

49.

Travel Industry Dictionary (2012) ‘Define Nature Based Tourism’. Branford, CT: The Intrepid Traveller’, http://www.travel-industry-dictionary.com/nature-based-tourism.html (accessed 7 December 2012).

50.

UNWTO (2012) World Tourism Organization. Tourism Highlights. Edition 2012. http://unwto.org/facts/eng/pdf/hithlights/UNWTO_Highlights12_en_LR.pdf.www.unwto.org

51.

Urry

(1990) The Tourist Gaze. London: SAGE.

52.

Valentine

P. S.

(1992) ‘Nature-Based Tourism? (Review)’, pp. 105–27 in Weiler

Hall

C. M.

(eds) Special Interest Tourism. London: Belhaven Press.

53.

Weaver

(2001) Ecotourism. Milton, NSW, Australia; Sydney, NSW, Australia and Melbourne, VIC, Australia: John Wiley & Sons Australia Ltd.

54.

Weaver

Faulkner

Lawton

(1999) Nature Based Tourism in Australia and Beyond: A Preliminary Investigation. Gold Coast, QLD, Australia: CRC for Sustainable Tourism.

55.

Whatmore

(1999) ‘Culture-Nature’, pp. 8-17 in Cloke

Crang

Goodwin

(eds) Introducing Human Geographies. London: Arnold.

56.

Williams

(1972) ‘Ideas of Nature’, pp. 146-64 in Benthall

(ed.) Ecology: the Shaping Enquiry. London: Longman.