Remembering Iceland: Arrival
It came out of nowhere. Collin gave me a call and asked, “Are you free July 25th through the 29th?”
“Yes.”
“You want to go to Iceland?”
I’d been working at KC&E Adventures—a dream job for me—for just six months. While I hadn’t expected hands-on experience with the active travel side of the business so soon, this opportunity was impossible to pass up. Obviously, I said yes. This was work, after all. I had to go… right? Surreal.
With just a week to get ready, I didn’t have time to overthink things—I just had to roll with it. My last international excursion had a full year of planning behind it, but this time, I was forced to let go of my need for control and perfectionism and head in eyes wide open, ready to embrace whatever adventure had in store.
Fast forward a week, and Collin and I were loading our bags into my car, saying goodbye to our families, and heading to the airport. It was a redeye from New York to Reykjavik, and I knew this flight would be my only chance to rest before diving into a jam-packed three-day itinerary that started immediately upon arrival. As you can imagine, I was unsuccessful in my attempt to sleep. The excitement and anticipation was too disruptive.
As soon as we deboarded, Collin and I made a beeline for caffeine, landing at one of those oddly fancy restaurant-bars plopped in the middle of the terminal. Despite it being 5 a.m., the bar was open—and a lone guy sat sipping a beer. Whether his day was starting or ending, it wasn’t clear, but I couldn’t help feeling a little sorry for him.
After taking down our double espressos, we grabbed our bags and found a spot to post up while we waited for our driver. Collin threw on his headphones and pulled out his journal, while I milled around, people-watching and trying to get oriented. Just six hours earlier, we’d been in the sweltering 90-degree heat of New York, and now we were surrounded by people bundled up in fleeces and puffer jackets. It was clear we were in a completely different environment.
As I wandered, I spotted two guys who had staked out a little patch of terminal to build up their bikes. Right there in the middle of the airport. With their rugged, vagabond vibes and bikes packed to the brim with gear, they looked like they’d stepped straight off the homepage of bikepacking.com. There was no doubt they were ready to explore, and it hit me: this airport wasn’t just a hub. It was a launching pad for adventure.
Besides the Orlando airport, where half the people walk around in Mickey Mouse ears, the Keflavik airport was the only other place I’d been where you could get a clear picture of why people were there. They weren’t just passing through. They were here to immerse themselves in this wild land. And we were about to do the same.
