Iceland Journals: From Strangers to Friends
Day 2 (5/7)
This morning, I woke up earlier than expected at 6am, and only when the cold morning air and glaring sunlight made it impossible to entertain the notion of falling back to sleep did I begrudgingly climb out of my sleeping bag and warm up a breakfast of the last night’s leftovers. It hadn’t been the best night of sleep I’d ever had, not even close, but it felt good to begin the day with a view of such a serene and barren place. Save for the blowing wind and the crashing of the waves, there were no other noises to contend with, no alarms or car engines to be heard. After taking time to plan the general direction of the day, I prepared myself to hit the road, and as I pulled away from the Gata campsite, I felt hopeful for the sights along Ring Road I’d see that day and the people I’d meet on the road.
My hope was answered only two hours into my drive, when I spotted two hitch-hikers on my drive toward Seljalandsfoss, one of many scenic waterfalls on the southern coast of Iceland. I hadn’t been planning to pick up hitch-hikers, but when I saw these two, I thought about the man who had picked me up the previous day and his unsolicited, unassuming kindness. In that split second, I made the decision to pull to the side of the road and offer them a ride. As they piled into the car and we struck up a conversation about hitch-hiking, I think we were all somewhat surprised, though grateful to be in each other’s company. To think of their astonishment at being picked up by a solo female traveler, certainly not the archetype of someone who picks up hitch-hikers, and my own astonishment at the impulse and resulting decision to pick up not one, but two hitch-hikers, never having picked up a stranger in my life before. In case you’re wondering, yes, it did occur to me that this could be a terrible decision with consequences, and yes, I did feel the slightest bit guilty for not quite honoring my promise to friends and family to stay safe before my trip. Picking up hitch-hikers isn’t what most would consider to be a prudent choice and I still can’t explain what exactly compelled me to do it, but I’m glad to say that I not only came out alive and well, but met two incredible friends as a result.
In the car, I shared with my two hitch-hikers that I planned to visit a few waterfalls and a geothermal pool on the way to a campsite in Vik that night; they were welcome to join or I would be happy to drop them off further down the road. They agreed enthusiastically to join me in my adventures that day and only fifteen minutes into our rapid-fire conversation, which my mother would argue is fifteen minutes too late, I became convinced that these two were not, in fact, highway murderers, and began to relax into my new company. To my right, in the front passenger seat, sat Robbie, a Toronto native studying massage therapy and an aspiring tree planter, which unbeknownst to me, earns a handsome living in Canada. In the backseat was Dima (short for Dmitry), a traveling Russian chemist who’d spontaneously taken a bus from his home in Moscow to Riga, Latvia in order to catch a flight to Reykjavik. They had both arrived in Iceland just a few days ago and had, in fact, connected on Couchsurfing prior to their arrival and had only met in person once in Iceland. Together, they planned to hitch-hike around the entirety of Ring Road in the week they would spend in Iceland. I was delighted to find that not only were Robbie and Dmitry kind, funny, and clearly adventurous, but we also shared similar approaches to traveling in and seeing the world. We had barely driven half an hour together before spotting two more hitch-hikers on the road, and in another wave of unfounded spontaneity, I pulled over again and picked up two French travelers who were only headed 15 km up the road. What followed was about ten minutes of spitfire conversation held in multiple languages. The car was packed so tight with people and luggage at this point that it felt somewhat clownish, but in that moment, I felt delirious incredulity and joy at the chance encounters and unexpected series of events that had led to all five us being packed into the car, myself, Robbie, Dima, and the two French travelers. Only an hour before, I had been driving in this car alone and now, it was so hilariously and wonderfully full of humans from vastly different corners of the world who may never have met had we not all been in the right time and place and, more importantly, made the decision to step out of our comfort zones. I’m a big believer in the notion that strangers are just friends you haven’t met yet, and nowhere has this proven to be more true than in the people I’ve met while traveling. Taking in the cacophony of voices and laughter around me, it made me smile to think that there were so many friendships just waiting to be made on the road.
After dropping the two French travelers off, the three of us remaining continued on our way to Seljalandsfoss, where we hiked behind the waterfall, listened to the roar of the water rushing to our feet, and felt its icy cold spray on our all-too-permeable rain gear. We continued to hike to Gljúfrabúi (literally translates to Dweller in the Gorge), a waterfall almost entirely obscured by the large rocks surrounding it. The mountainside and the surrounding rocks create a kind of sheltered alcove into which one can wade and stand directly under the waterfall as the rushing water falls into the gorge. Naturally, Robbie and I decided this was too good an opportunity to pass up and threw off our hiking boots to wade through the gorge. Standing under Gljúfrabúi, I could hear nothing but the meeting of water and earth and the thump-thump-thumping of my own heart from the climb inside. It was literally and figuratively breath-taking. The trek to the waterfalls left us damp and shivering, but in awe of the natural wonders of Iceland, and after piling back into the car, I suggested we try to find the geothermal pool I’d marked on my map before departing, situated on a few kilometers from where we were. It sounded like a good idea to all parties to warm up, and we set off to find this remote geothermal pool. When we arrived in the area, after a few bumpy roads and blind faith in offline Google maps, it was drizzling and seemed even colder outside now. We found out from other travelers at the site that we’d have to hike a kilometer to reach the pool, a task which was none too exciting in the cold rain and wind. Still, we hadn’t come this far to sit in the car, and after a little goading on my part, we steeled ourselves to make the trek. When we reached the pool, situated right in the middle of the mountainside, the view and the beckoning warm water was beyond worth it. We encountered other brave travelers who had hiked all the way out as well to enjoy what is a quintessential Icelandic experience and marveled at the magic of water that had been entirely naturally heated. Under sunnier and warmer conditions, the water might not have felt so invitingly warm, but on this rainy and cold day, we were all glad to sink our bodies into the pool and gaze out at the landscape surrounding us. When we finally summoned the courage to climb out of the warm pool and make the long trek back to the car, we realized that the time had flown by and began to make our way to Vik, where we would stay at the local campsite for the night.
And while I wish I could say that the adventures ended there, with a drive to the campsite and a restful night’s sleep, the night was still young and I had an unwelcome surprise ahead of me. It was only when we pulled into the sole gas station in the town of Vik to fill up before heading to the campsite for the night that I realized with a sinking sensation in my stomach that I couldn’t find my wallet. After completing two sweeps of the car, we had no choice but to drive to the campsite with what little gas was left in the tank to deal with the situation. Only there was nothing to deal with, because after another thorough search of the car, the wallet was still nowhere to be found. After such a long and eventful day, I was weary to the bone and now sick to my stomach. I felt a little bit like crying, a little like wishing the entire day away, even the beautiful and joyful moments, if only I could start the day again with wallet in possession, but mostly, I wanted to get on a flight home, to comfort and friends and my own warm bed. But that wasn’t a choice and so I took a deep and shaking breath, changed into what clothes I had that weren’t damp from the day, and blew up the sleeping mat. If you are ever in a panicked situation, know that manually blowing up a massive sleeping mat may help to calm you down, sort of like blowing into a paper bag. I then laid out my sleeping bag, forced myself to eat the peanut butter and banana sandwich I had forgotten to eat earlier in the day and felt even less like consuming now, and took to writing about the day.
It might not make sense to you why I chose to write. Maybe it wouldn’t be your first course of action or even your tenth. But it was 10pm and getting dark, I had no access to Internet, the pouring rain outside was not letting up, and I couldn’t quiet the manic thoughts in my head to fall asleep. So I started writing, if only to give the racing thoughts and emotions a home other than my mind. I thought about the last time I was in a similar situation. I’d been in San Francisco to participate in a social enterprise competition. We had only been in the city for two days and were scheduled to present the product we’d been working on for months in three days time when my belongings, along those of another team member and friend, were stolen out of our parked car. My entire bag was taken, with laptop, wallet, passport, and more things than I could recall inside. It was devastating and thinking of the events now, I can still recall the racing thoughts that plagued my mind at the time. How would I contribute to our presentation without my laptop? What did I leave unsaved and would it be lost forever? How was I going to get on our flight home at the end of the week without any form of identification? How would I survive for days in one of the most expensive cities in the world without a penny to my name? How could I let this happen? It was the last question that stuck with me in the days afterward. How had I left a bag with all my most important belongings in a car for all the world to see? How had I not remembered to take my wallet to the restaurant, only to have someone else pay, with the promise to venmo later? What if I had just left the restaurant when I realized I didn’t have my wallet and gone to get it from the car? What if I had just grabbed the bag and removed it entirely from the vehicle? The what if’s and how’s left me in a state of abject panic that no one could pull me from, which surely made me an unenjoyable traveling companion. I was inconsolable. Over the course of the next few days, I slowly regained the bits and pieces of my life that I’d taken for granted. I’d never realized how much identity could be rooted in a piece of paper or plastic until I sat for hours in the waiting room of the San Francisco Passport Agency, with copies of my documentation and legal papers in hand, desperate to prove who I was. I never did get the backpack or any of the belongings inside returned, and it took a while after the incident for me to believe this, but what I learned from that experience is that even when it feels like the walls are craving in on you and your world is crumbling, it’s okay and you will be okay.
Sitting in the darkness of the car, I repeated this mantra aloud, willing myself to believe its words. Only a few moments later, I heard a knock on the window and saw Dmitry and Robbie. They climbed into the front seats of the car and asked how I was doing, to which I could only reply with the truest words I could form: I could be better, but I could also be much, much worse. We sat in there for the next hour, the two of them in the front seats and me in the back, talking about how to move forward in the morning, their own experiences of stolen or lost belongings, and then just stories from home which made me smile and even laugh. I felt enormously thankful for their simple presence and compassion to sit with me in the car, despite a long day on the road and their beckoning tents, to show their support. When they left at last for their sleeping bags and I curled into my own, I felt better than I thought myself capable of feeling in light of the events and for that, as well as the presence of these strangers who had become friends, I was thankful.
These self-proclaimed Iceland Journals are a collection of journal entries written during my two-week solo trip to Iceland, one for each day of the adventure. In brief, I booked a spontaneous solo trip to Iceland, decided to rent a car to drive around and live out of for two weeks, packed a single backpack to carry with me, and you’ll have to read on to see how the rest of the the adventure plays out! This Medium series, kept in close form to the original entries written during my trip, portrays the day-by-day lived experience and my personal takeaways from stepping out of my comfort zone, the lessons I learn as a result of what my parents would call somewhat questionable decision-making, and the people I met along the way. I hope you’ll get something from reading these sometimes indulgent, often spur-of-the-moment reflections, and this series inspires you to seek out discomfort in every facet of life, build community wherever you are and whomever you’re with, and fulfill the truest expression of yourself in everything you do.
To follow the rest of the journey:
Day 1: Choosing Courage
Day 2: From Strangers to Friends
Day 3: Highs and Lows
Thanks for reading — claps, comments, and shares are much appreciated!