On the second half of our trip, after a particularly tense day, as I drove silently, he asked “Can I talk to you about something?”

That’s generally a scary opening.

“Yeah,” I said, nervous.  When there is tension, I’m still at the early point in our relationship, where I don’t know how important the tension is.  Is this issue making him second-guess wanting to be with me?  Is he making this fight a global thing, and thinking that it is indicative of larger issues between us?

“This trip has been really hard.  You and I haven’t been connecting.  Rather than bringing us closer together, it feels like it’s making us farther apart,” he said.

My stomach dropped.  Though we are very serious about each other, we are still new enough that my monkey mind gets anxious about stumbling blocks that could derail our relationship.

“I’m sorry that sometimes I get frustrated about travel like this.  It’s one of my weaknesses.  I’m trying to work on it,” he continued.  “The last few days I’ve given up trying to figure out what to do together because it just makes us fight.  You get irritated, I get upset that we aren’t doing everything we could be doing on this really expensive trip.”

He stammered a bit as he talked, which he never does.  He was really upset, and I could see that bringing it up was really hard.  The only thing more difficult for him at that moment was not bringing it up.

I apologized for being so quick to get mad or irritated.  We talked for two hours as we drove, and at one point during the conversation, he grabbed my hand and held it for awhile.  We argued about a few points, sticking to our guns at times, and not apologizing for who we were, but saying sorry for the way neither one of us was acting the best to the other.  And promising to work on it.  And I told him that just because something isn’t perfect, doesn’t mean that it’s not wonderful.  We are allowed to have a rough few days, or even a rough vacation.  It doesn’t mean that we aren’t in it for the long haul.  I want to work out how to smooth our rough edges with each other.

He kissed me, in his rough, swallowing my face, kind of way, as I drove.  And he grabbed my hand and pulled it to his lips and kissed that as well.  And my heart relaxed.

—

The drive through the South has long straight stretches of beautiful and less desolate landscapes than the Reykanes.  As you drive east, cliffs of green and black tower above grassy plains for miles and miles.

There are almost no trees left in most of Iceland, after centuries of woodcutting by the Vikings and the introduction of sheep.  There is a reforestation effort gaining steam, to increase forest cover from 1% to 2% in the next 20 years.  But until then, almost all of the landscape is crisp and distinct and treelessly dramatic.  Moss and grasses cover some cliff faces, but then a sharp dividing line and change of direction changes the mountain to a black basalt rock and sand.

Iceland puts the drama of many famous landscapes to shame, partially because of the sheer scale of the scenes that unfold in front of you. To the green cliffs of the Napali coast…”I can fit 5 of your Napali coasts in one corner of me,” Iceland sneers.

We rounded a cliff edge and the white glaciers of the Vatnajokull Icecap came into view.  Long tongues streaked with blue reach from above the peaks into deeply carved valleys.

We stop to do a short hike to the edge of the glacier. The sun is strong, and I take off my jacket as we walk, but the wind off the glacier gets stronger as we get closer. A torrent of water streams from an ice cave, emptying into a lake of small icebergs floating in front of the glacier.

Giant icebergs float in Lake Jokusarlon, like shards of a monstrous shattered mirror.  Some are larger than apartment buildings, while others are the size of a person. Tourists snap pictures from the black sand beach around the lake, but everyone is relatively quiet.  A couple sits on a rock above the beach, mesmerized by the icebergs in the same way the flames of a campfire are captivating.  We sit for a while as well, not talking. The  majesty of the spectacle makes you want to be silent, like a naturally occuring holy space.  You’re small, say the carved behemoths of ice… be respectful.