From the Land of the Ice and Snow: Meeting Iceland’s Master Watchmaker

When I confirmed that I’d be going to Iceland, my first thought was, Will I get to meet an elf? My second thought was, Are there any watchmakers in Iceland? I knew that if the country did boast a watchmaker and the watches were within my (decidedly limited) budget, I needed to come home with a tiny, exquisite machine made in a country I felt I’d come to love.

A quick Google search indicated that there was a single watchmaking business in all of the country, JS Watch Company, a three-generation family operation with an storefront in Iceland’s largest city of Reykjavik, where my partner and I would begin our journey around the country via the famed Ring Road (Þjóðvegur 1).

I wrote an email to the business telling them the day I thought I could stop by and the model I was likely to purchase. I received in reply two messages, each from different family members, inviting me to come meet the Master Watchmaker, Gilbert, who started the operation in 2005.

I was thrilled at the opportunity, because what I like most about being out of the States is exploring nature and meeting the human and non-human inhabitants. Traveling abroad is a privilege, and I always feel like I represent my country. I endeavor to absorb something of the rhythm of life in whatever country I can manage to weasel my way into. While I am not especially knowledgeable about watches, I love to see a craftsman at work and get a view (albeit limited) of the artistry of they create. I was thrilled at this opportunity, but there was a big BUT involved.

Iceland is one of the most expensive countries I’ve ever visited, even more so, as I recall, than Japan or Switzerland. Anyone who complains about prices in “Joe Biden’s America” should spend some time in Iceland, a country where nearly everything is imported except sheep and fish. While I know some weird people (hello, dear Reader), none of them would buy a watch made of mutton or salmon. The watch I had set my heart on was the Gilbert Bóhem Silver Sunburst, a 38.5 mm automatic on a stainless steel (by my choice) bracelet. This watch would set me back nearly $3k with VAT.

While a watch costing this much may not be a big deal to men a lot taller and sporting better haircuts than me, I felt every cent of it as I imagined myself toothless and emaciated in my dotage with an Iceland watch of refined elegance hanging loosely from my wizened wrist, as I gummed a bag of dry ramen noodles. But poverty be damned, there’s always SNAP benefits and soup kitchens! I’m certain a staffer at the public assisted living facility I’ll one day wind up in will take pleasure in slipping that watch off my wrist.

I met Gilbert the Master Watchmaker at the shop and was pleasantly surprised to see that he was awaiting my arrival and had my selected piece set aside. The shop was small, with one side taken up by glass displays of their watches and some family artifacts and the other with a wall of photos of Genuine Famous People sporting their watches along with Gilbert and family.

Gilbert was a nattily dressed elf of a man who was, for a long time, the only person named Gilbert in all of Iceland. His name came from an American service member his father served with in Iceland during WW2 who was killed in the war. Gilbert was named in honor of him, and thus felt a special connection to America. He talked to us about his family history, being the first and only watchmaking business in Iceland, his absolute perfectionism, and some of his personal interests (hunting, fishing, driving fast while avoiding Icelandic speed traps). He told us that in order to achieve the flawless blueing of the hands on my watch model, he had to discard innumerable hands for being just less than perfect. This precision of craftsmanship could best be seen through his loupe. Catching the light on the magnified hands of the watch was a reminder — as if I needed one — of what I love about mechanical watches: tiny parts and pieces working in tandem and revealing new aspects of their coruscating beauty with each angle of viewing and play of the light. I was sold.

In a world that places too much value on the vulgar, the easily-consumable and excretable, delicate creations of craftsmen are precious treasures. Iceland is a small country with a tiny human population, a shit-ton of sheep, and some of the most majestic geography I’ve ever seen. It is, in the true sense of the word, awesome. While at times snowy roads (in early-/mid-October) did their best to send us off precipices to our doom, I left Iceland with what will stand as an abiding love for the country and respect for the people I had the honor to come to know. I returned home with more than a few bits of memorabilia, but a t-shirt with an anthropomorphic hotdog and a magnet of a puffin can’t compare with the watch Gilbert and his family made with pride. When the sun of my city of Philadelphia dances across the face of my watch, the light reminds me of the brilliant Icelandic sun on the crystal snows of the north and the azure fjords of the east. I met my Icelandic elf and he bestowed upon me a treasure I’ll always love.

—Casual Time #12 by Joseph Gervasi

The watch: Gilbert Bóhem - Silver Sunburst dial. $2,363.00
Stainless steel case, Swiss movement, Automatic, self-winding, Sapphire glass, antireflective, Water resistance 5 bar, Diameter 38.5 mm, Height 10.3 mm,

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