I keep making fantasy novel references. I can't help it. It's the nature of this place, with its tall green mountains, towering waterfalls, fields of volcanic rocks and shimmering glaciers. I know with a modicum of certainty that an armor clad knight will soon ride up on his gallant horse, a tiny winged fairy will get smashed by our windshield, or a giant troll will appear around the next bend. Today is a darker sort of day. We want to get from the south of the island to the north. It's a long day of driving, but we have places to go and things to see. It starts out pleasant enough, with a light rain and a tepid, easy breeze. This doesn't last long. The breeze turns into, as Pete puts it, gusts from hell like lord Sauron himself was opposing our progress (I am not the only dorky one in the family). We were warned about these winds when we picked up our rental, told that they could blow a bus off the road and the swirling sand could strip the paint down to the metal. Regretfully, we chose not to get the extra insurance, thinking it was only posturing to scare us out of our money. Pete with furoughed brow and white knuckles, keeps our tiny car on the road. I on the other hand am enjoying myself, hypnotized by the desolate landscape with its black sand dunes. bright red moss, snaking rivers and distant red mountains; imagining two tiny little hobbits trekking along beside us. Occasionally I am rudely awakened from my trance as the wind jerks us a few feet, threatening to carry us away. This continues for several long hours and we never see another person. Apparently Icelanders are smart enough to stay off the road in this kind of weather. Eventually we reach our destination with ourselves and vehicle unscathed and I finally see Pete exhale.
