It's taken nearly two years of full-time travel for me to feel ready to experience Iceland in the way I truly want to. Which is to say, my pilgrimage is isolated, wild, wintery.
And I’m camping.
I’m as intimate with the land as I can possibly get. Camping in the winter a mere 65 miles below the arctic circle has pushed just about every boundary and edge and button and nerve I have. To state the obvious, how could it not? I have moments where I'm glad I'm doing it and others where I just sit in my trusty Subaru and cry.Read More