Note: This series has a post from Lindsay and a post from Elaine each telling their perspective on the same trip. You can check out Lindsay's Iceland 2017 here.
In mid-December after a busy fall, I was eager to visit Kenya to celebrate our adopted son’s graduation from nursing school. At the last minute I noticed my passport was invalid: it did not have the required six-month buffer between leaving Nairobi and returning to the US. Should I go anyway? Would they really detain me in Kenya? Too big a risk, so I stayed home while husband Mike and daughter Lindsay went to celebrate and enjoy a safari in the Maisa Mara.
For a few days, I was disappointed and frankly pissed off. But after a few days of sitting in sorrow, sadness morphed into joy as I turned my attention to the holidays: house decorations, gifts, and preparation for our large Christmas party.
Another silver lining: I now had an international credit for travel. Lindsay and I brainstormed possible trips. Africa? South America? Or Iceland where she had always wanted to go. Hm? Iceland? Well, Okay. A major benefit is that she would plan the trip from start to finish. A glimpse into my life since Mike’s stroke in 2004 reveals inordinate planning for any travel so I am thrilled to follow.
She gave me the overview but I didn’t register the details. I wanted time with Lindsay, hikes in wide open places, and no planning or decision-making.
Upon arrival, with jet lag, we drove 3 hours. I don’t like long drives. “Lindsay, where are we going? Are we there yet?” A master of distraction, she knows to play Guy Clark or Jerry Jeff Walk music for us to sing along. Finally, we arrive at a sweet hotel seemingly in the middle of nowhere overlooking the water with great staff and food. I love this place.
“Let’s go on a long hike,” I say the next day. “About a half hour?” Lindsay asks. “No, I was thinking 4 hours.” She says we’ll see when we get to Dritvik. We walk only 2K but along cliffs and find a fishing village that only operates 6 weeks each year because of the weather. Many beautiful, rugged sites later, we return after driving all day. Did I mention I don’t like long drives? But ‘no decision-making’ tops driving which led to exquisite sites I would not have seen or the best hamburger in the world I would not have eaten.
After another lovely dinner, I want to stay here for the whole trip. “Ok mama, they have room, but we’ll miss horseback riding tomorrow.” What a dilemma, but I’d rather ride. Late that night, I imagine riding on Western saddles but then, duh, realize ‘Western’ means Western USA. I will not ride Icelandic prancing ponies on an English saddle. Not one to fret, I freak. Lindsay emails the owner of the stable who assures us the saddles are made for the fast-paced ponies and that he will teach us what we need to know. Adventure tops caution so off we go.
The stable owner and his assistant epitomize the Icelandic character: Danish practicality and Irish humor. The saddles are substantial and make riding across fields, down country roads, beside beautiful rivers a pure joy. Ok, I want to stay here for the rest of the trip and ride each day. “We can do that mama, but we’ll miss the historic location where the country actually began.” Learning tops more riding so off we go.
Lindsay accidentally put regular gas in our diesel car so the next day takes some problem solving. We like problem-solving which tops giving up and in, so off we go.
We drive another 3 hours to a remote cabin on a sheep and horse farm. Magnificent for hiking. Lindsay says the next day we’ll see the glaciers but it’s 6 hours round trip. Oh no. “I think I’ll stay at the cabin and do a long hike,” I say. “OK, mama, but the glaciers are one of the top attractions in Iceland. I mean we are in ICEland.” How pretty could a glacier be? But time with Lindsay and her excitement top a preferred, predictable pattern, so off we go.
Then an interesting thing happens. Instead of just moving down the road to get to a destination, I am IN the landscape which is an abstract expressionist painting. Rough surfaces morph into smooth cliffs; Irish green farms give way to black volcanic rock; sloping rock fields reveal other-worldly azure ice blocks the size of buildings. I feel, smell, hear, and see this place.
The shift has happened from being goal-oriented to being present, part of another reality. A picture, not words, describe this place. Now I am in a sculpture garden of stillness and motion, black and blue, now and forever.
The 3-hour return trip is time to digest our experience. Tired and enormously happy, we arrive at our place for a cool drink, delicious dinner, and healing rest. You know what comes next. “I want to stay in this place the rest of the time.” “Okay, mama, we can do that, but we’ll miss the featured place outside Reykjavík, the Blue Lagoon, where we walk through a huge hot spring the color of the glaciers, up to a bar and then to a salon for a mud facial. Oh, did I forget to say afterwards we have reservations at the deluxe restaurant, with champagne.” Curiosity and beauty top magnificent repetition so off we go.
In the lagoon, I once again shift consciousness, slowly moving and swimming IN the painting being one with the world rather acting on it. Love, compassion, and joy automatically arise.
The trip far exceeded my goals. By trusting Lindsay and listening to my intuition, transcendence followed. I understand why other visitors cannot describe exactly why they love Iceland.
I notice the energies that pull me: adventure, learning, curiosity, experience, consciousness, fun, and trusting, loving connection. I also notice that I would like to return to that magnificent land, stay in one place, and enter a ‘still life’ painting to experience that reality. Both a contemplative still life AND an energetic abstract beckon me.
Thank you, Lindsay, for exquisite planning and for knowing me so deeply that the trip was a continuous gentle pull toward adventure and beauty during which I could experience the unity of the world.
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