Last year, we discovered the Nordic countries, ferried over to the Faroe Islands, and moored up in Iceland from October through December for a stint of sublime craziness. The splendor afforded by a four-berth bedroom for two of us, solar and lithium power, sockets all over the rig, gallons of refrigerated magic, a built-in kitchen and drawer-loads of storage, not to mention an awning on top, brought overlanding bliss.
Undoubtedly, it’d be naïve to think we wouldn’t encounter challenges on a 4WD journey. A tale from the trail began when we rocked up for the night in southern Iceland. Mindfully, we faced the rooftop tent’s hard shell into a light wind, granting us optimal protection. Climbed inside and battened down the hatches. Ensconced, I fell into a comforting sleep—the canvas increasingly flapping like bees’ wings as the wind rustled past us through the glaciated valley. While Iceland kicked the hell out of us weather-wise, it was one of the greatest privileges of my life to be there, exploring the fierce drama of its untamed interior.
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