We spent a lot of our time driving in separate cars, which meant that I didn’t get to spend as much time with Rob, Charles, and Diane as I would have liked. A midnight celebration of the summer solstice was a chance for us to get together and soak in our strange surroundings. The tour organiser had arranged for us to spend the night on the beach near the farm of some of his friends. The farmers drove us to the beach, told us we could choose to build a bonfire if we wished, and then turned around and disappeared for an hour. It was very cold, so we were very motivated to build a driftwood bonfire. Andy, Adrian and I built an excellent base that was full of kindling and cardboard. We then stacked dried driftwood on top, only to discover that we had no matches. We found one piece of wood that looked like a seal, and called him Frederick. Jay later placed Frederick on the fire, and I watched sadly as the flames engulfed him. Adrian and I went egg hunting while we waited for our hosts to return, and found two nests in the sand, each with two speckled eggs.

A while later, the farmers returned with matches, blankets, and food. Charles was too cold and left, but the rest of us sat around the bonfire that quickly ignited. We ate fresh rolled pancakes dipped in hot chocolate, while sitting on a black sand beach with the waves rolling in. It was the middle of the night, yet the sky was still light. An extraordinary way to mark the summer solstice. We were told that this night is full of magic. If we were to roll around naked in the dew, our diseases may be cured. If we placed a special orchid root under our own pillow and an unrequited love, their heart would be ours. And this was the night for venturing into enchanted places to collect magic rocks that grant wishes. I had no need for any of those rituals, as I was having a perfect night with wonderful people in an amazing country.

This trip was my first chance to sail amongst icebergs, in the Jokulsarlon lagoon. As the salty sea water reaches Vatnajokull, Europe’s largest glacier, hundred of icebergs break off where they slowly melt as they progress towards the ocean. It is a really beautiful and surreal place. With the glacier and snow-capped mountains in the background, most of the shapes are carved out in shades of blue – from the pale turquise of the ice to the vibrant azure of the sky. Streaks of black from centuries of volcanic eruptions cut through the vista to emphasise the age of this place.

We took a cruise through the lagoon and our guide carved off a sliver from one of the icebergs, so that we could eat ice that was over 1000 years old. Our guide was a native Icelander who spends all her winters in Australia – she even went to college in my hometown of Canberra. She spoke like a perfect Australian native, which made it all the more shocking to hear her correctly pronounce towns like Þorlákshöfn when talking about the region.

Occasionally, seals would poke their heads out of the water. Our guide told us that there were two types of seals in Iceland, and that these are the cuter ones, as they are smaller and have fewer whiskers. We were later told that the locals call the seals that give birth on land Land Seals, and the ones that give birth out at sea Out There Seals. The Icelanders are big fans of literal names for creatures and places.

The lands of northern Iceland are the most desolate through which I have ever walked. The population is so sparse that each individual farm is marked on the national touring map, and even then we could drive for hundreds of kilometers with no sign of habitation. In some places, there were barely even any signs of vegetation apart from moss and a few tiny determined wildflowers. It was like walking on the moon. Black soil would crunch beneath our feet, dust rising slowly from our footsteps. The dark ground would stretch out to the distant volcanic mountains. The pale and dusky sky spread out above us, the dim northern sun a constant companion in the sky. There is a primitive wilderness here that somehow seems to nurture and uplift with its vast expanse of eternity.

There is a lot to do when near solidified lava. Near the hotel were fields of petroglyphs – images carved into the bare open fields of volcanic rock. It is impossible to date these images, or even know exactly what they symbolise. There were some words written in Roman script, although not in English, which are obviously after European colonisation, and the lava flow occurred around 300 years ago, so the images could not be earlier than that. We saw many concentric circles, which are speculated to be birth records of the Polynesian people. Adjacent to the petroglyph fields was a bright green golf corse and immaculate cream buildings, a disturbing contrast to the ancient black fields on which we were standing.

After spending an hour out in the blistering morning sun, we decided to take a short cut back to the restaurant for lunch. Unfortunately, I had left my iPhone back at the hotel, so we had no map. Some passers by gave us directions, and we set of, we later discovered, in entirely the wrong direction. We were now in the middle of the Hilton golf course residential villas complex, and yet the footpaths were entirely unshaded. Everyone else was travelling either in golf carts or in SUVs, as this was still the USA, after all. The path twisted and turned, and although we passed miles of sparkling time-share apartments, we could not find shade nor shelter for ourselves. After an hour of trudging under the blistering Hawaiian sun, we emerge back at the shops, and stepped into the bliss of air conditioning. I downed a great deal of water, and savoured the luxury of cool air, shade, and hydration.

That afternoon we ventured across the other side of the island to see Volcanoes National Park. We walked through an old lava tube, and emerged into the damp rich rainforest, filled with birds and towering trees. We spent sunset overlooking the caldera of the active volcano, and as it became dark, I could see the pale orange light illuminating the smoke from the vents, and listening to the restless magma rumble and grumble below the earth.