Journeys are recorded by the footprints they leave behind, best accomplished in good company and rekindled in abodes close to nature. A great stroke of luck plus careful planning brought together our Significant Six to make delightful memories out of our journey to Iceland.

 

There was Rachel–an all-American beauty and ball of sunshine who's mastered Vinyasa Flow; Josh–a bonafide documentarian and lacrosse coach with the youthful zeal of a never-ending bull run; Laetitia–a Parisian architect and Eagle Scout with the power to whip together lush, hearty family meals even in the most dire of circumstances; Raphael–Laeti’s twin French Scout and thoughtful architect whose deft hand renders elegant beauty out of the hideous with pen and paper anytime, anywhere; John–my salient Irish builder and sports aficionado with a heart of gold and a discerning eye for quality people; and yours truly–a Filachinadian dreamer and dabbler.

 

Together, we roamed the land.

 

Through the winged Reykjavik steeple, cascading waterfalls, undulating pseudo-craters berthing Northern Lights, mossy lands and the colorful tin edifices dotting the small towns along the Snaefellsnes peninsula, we settled in a quaint cabin at the base of Mt. Kirkjufell (literally “Church Mountain”). It was in this cabin that we conjured scrumptious dinners and drank beers in the hot tub. It was here that we chased dreams without a care in the world. It was here that a modest timber shell known as Hálsaból Sumarhús came to life as a lively home.

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