Iceland had been living in my curiosity for years before I ever got there. Turns out it was worth waiting until I turned 50.

I traveled the Golden Circle with my photographer friend Irene and a group of women who treat adventure like a requirement, not a suggestion. Total badasses with beautiful hearts. Gullfoss, Seljalandsfoss, Kvernufoss, waterfalls that make you feel so tiny in the very best ways. Reynisfjara's black sand and basalt cliffs, waves that arrive like they mean it and before they swept that entire beach away earlier this year. Diamond Beach. A glacier hike that reminded me of what I'm physically capable of these days (turns out to be a lot - a large chuck of glacier unexpectedly fell off into a large lake right before us... and you best know I sprinted faster than I thought I could to get away from the fallout.

We ate real Icelandic food, the fresh kind, and toured a tomato farm with rows of hydroponic plants that had no business looking that lush in that climate. Sky Lagoon one night, Hvammsvik at the old WWII base the next, soaking in hot water while the aurora did its thing overhead.

This was the start of what I now call my Ice and Fire tour. Iceland first, Namibia after. Two ends of the elemental spectrum, both of them changed me.