Reykjavík Grapevine - 05.02.2016, Page 52

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In the land of Iceland, in the heart of
101, I meet my fellowship companion
Art Bicnick—the photographer—
outside Grapevine HQ at 9:45am on
a brisk Saturday morning. I am bur-
dened with one small hangover, and
one large quest: to travel to Langjökull
to meet the snowmobilers down yon-
der. To prepare for this journey, I have
laced up my Timberlands, which are
heavy and clunky, weighing down my
body and soul much like that One
Ring of Power.
I imagine this is what Frodo felt like
as he set off from Rivendell: anxious,
filled with regret at that decision to go
to Paloma last night, filled with long-
ing for a boy named Samwise. We set
off, unfortunately not in slow motion to
the inspiring soundtracking of Howard
Shore. No, in this car, we listen to Feist.
As Art and I land outside the city,
we are immediately struck by a vast
white wasteland surrounding us.
There are few trees in Iceland, and the
sharp, jagged mountains come out of
nowhere, capturing us in a harsh vista
that’s beautifully photogenic. We stop
the car and gaze at the desolate wil-
derness—the icy lakes and small
cabins in the distance.
As I contemplate my destiny, I look
to the surrounding mountains and see
a line of big bonfires on them. Holy
shit, the beacons are lit. The beacons
are literally fucking lit. Someone is
calling for aid. I know now that I am
here for a reason.
Many Meetings
We stop at Geysir, land of the geysers.
I’ve been to this kingdom many times
in the summer, but I must say the snow
20 The Reykjavík GrapevineIssue 2 — 2016TRAVEL
Frodo ain’t got nothing on me
Words Hannah Jane Cohen Photos Art Bicnick
Glaciers & Adrenaline