I moved on, listening to the laughing of birds, echoing from the rock of mountains. The day was languid with some beautiful vistas, and it reminded me of why I was there, why I’d come to Iceland to walk…

I took off my shoes and began to wade through, my feet plowing against the current, step by careful step, balancing on the rocks underfoot, my feet and legs swiftly getting stiff with cold…

I set up my tent against a large boulder right next to the trail, just out of view from the road. As long as no one passed, it would be the perfect spot…

Iceland was not for me. Roads repeating the same view over and over again, as though someone is holding the same postcard in the background of a movie set, and forgets to change it now and again…

My plan had been quite simple: walk around Iceland, much like I did around Tasmania. I had no idea whether it would be possible, but this was my plan. Walk around Iceland.