Dear Hitchhiking,

I've been told by many people that you're easy to do here in Iceland. And now I know that this is true. Even back home in the US I had never tried hitchhiking. But, I guess that I never really needed to. I've always had a vehicle, and my favorite transportation the bike, or friends and family willing to give me a lift. Hiking all the way to Sólheimar even sounded like a proper adventure. It's only a measly 32km. But I underestimated one small detail. The huge backpack nearing 35lbs that I'd be bringing with me. A true monkey on my back.

Yesterday I woke up around 8, I'd love to have slept in. Wednesday night as I was about to get up from the Gesthus couch an interesting individual plopped down next to me. Somehow or another we began talking and we hit it off. Turns out he's from Denmark and despite our different origins we share many thoughts and interests. He told me all about his hikes and dreams of the Gobbles, a jellyfish. His plans are to create a trilogy of albums about gobbles, cats (we both find them to be so darn cute), and seagulls. The latter he was once offended to hear called the rats of the sky. Anyway, he deserves an entire post on his own. What I'm trying to say is that I stayed up late and didn't sleep much. So, there I am at 8 packing my things away and eager to hit the road. But before that I decided it'd be best to eat a fair bit of the food some kind soul left behind at the Gesthus free table. I believe it may have been the open box of cheerios that had been visited by who knows how many hands where I've gotten my sore throat from. After stuffing my face like a bear preparing for hibernation I decided maybe I'd wait a bit to see if my Danish friend would emerge from his tent. Unfortunately he did not and it was time for me to go. I hope you're well Espian (Esbian? or something...) and that we cross paths again. He was headed to the Blue Lagoon after finding his blue speedo and remembering a dream of being there. Don't forget to email me.

So, I finally hit the road. This is the part where I take notice of my monkey. Motivating myself with thoughts of Bill Bryson's unfit friend that he drags along the AT in "A Walk in the Woods", I decide I can toughen up and do it. After all I consider myself an endurance athlete! The bridge out of town comes and goes and my march continues. One more roundabout later I come to the sign pointing toward Geysir and road #35. It's here I remember google maps telling me that I'd be on this road 20km. The distance is offset by the view of a mossy plataeu alongside the road and I'm still paying no mind to the many cars whizzing by towards Geysir. At least until I feel the twin blisters that have taken up residence on the bottom of each foot. Now I begin paying more attention to each passing vehicle. What a marvelous invention the automobile is. All I'd need to do is stick out my thumb and maybe I'd get a ride. But I was faced with a similar feeling as if I were asking a girl out on a date. My mind was filled with thoughts of looking silly, and failure. I began telling myself "What's the worst that happens? They just keep driving." And so my attempt at hitchhiking began. And luckily it went a lot better than my attempts at dating.

After working up the courage I began sticking out my thumb for each car I heard coming towards me. I kept walking as thoughts of failure kept my legs moving. At this point I was still ~3hrs walking from Borg. It was already 3:00. Many cars passed me by but with each one I was never discouraged. It was almost a relief actually. When a car finally stopped I'd be faced with what to do. Again, a bit like dating. And so I almost didn't believe it when finally a car passed and I saw break lights. My heart began beating a little quicker, this was it. Like a scene from a romantic film with two lovers running towards each other. Only I awkwardly jogged and the car slowly backed up until the two of us met. After a bit of talking I hopped in the front seat, monkey in my lap. My new friend was an older lady willing to give me a ride half-way. I told her I'd never done this before and she said it wasn't a habit of hers to pick folks up off the road. But it was windy and rain looked eminent so she felt pity for me. She was coming from Reykjavik where her husband managed a golf course. Her destination was her greenhouse where she now grows herbs but soon tulips for Christmas. We shared small details about each other and not long after she was dropping me off at her turn, apologizing for not taking me further. I couldn't thank her enough. Success! Suddenly reminded of the cold, wind, blisters and monkey I now threw my thumb up with gusto. Thankfully not long after another car came to a halt. This time an elderly gentleman that reminded me a bit of my grandfather. I told him I was headed to Sólheimar and he said he'd get me to Borg. We didn't talk much as his English and my Icelandic could use some work but I do know he has a son that's a doctor in Minnesota.

When we arrived in Borg I thanked him and decided I should stop there. By now it was a little after 4 and I still had 10km to go on a side road. I went into the gas station, spent 500 ISK on a coke and water, and got directions to the campsite. I spent the night alone in a clearing in front of a moss covered hill and some evergreens. Elves and sheep (baa'ing in the distance) ran through my mind as I tried to drift off. The next morning I awoke to waves of rain and feeling the Cheerio sore throat setting in. I stayed lazy and didn't leave the safety of my tent till the last minute. Luckily when I did the rain subsided and I began my trek. This time I hiked the full 10k to Sólheimar. No rides. Once I arrived I learned I had come a bit late and most things were closing down for Winter. However, in the art gallery a lovely woman prepared me some tea and I sat and wrote in my journal while listening to music she played from her laptop. We talked for a bit and she told me it was a dream that had brought her there. Iceland seems to be the place for dreaming. I could have stayed much longer than I did.

When I finally left I was feeling quite tired and was eager for a ride. But I knew this road was not well travelled and my hopes weren't high. Less than 100m after I left the man who keeps the greenhouses stopped and gave me a lift, he was headed for Borg. We talked about Sólheimar and what he grows, how long he had been there and more. But soon enough we were at our destination. Here I prepared myself for another lonesome night but decided to again test my luck. If I could make it all the way back to Selfoss I'd spend the night at Gesthus. I stood on the corner of the Borg campsite road and 35 with my pack at my feet and thumb out. I'm not sure how long I waited but it wasn't too much. A nice rental car pulled up and a man hopped out of the car to open the trunk. I threw my backpack in and hopped in the back. It was a father/son couple in Iceland on business but they had been up at Geysir for fun. They're from Switzerland and own a horse meat processing plant in Selfoss. They used to import from the US but since Americans became horrified at the idea of eating horse that has become difficult. Not so here in Iceland. The son told me he had a bad experience with Americans around 10 years ago and used to dislike us. But he worked writing songs for a musician in California and through her he learned to give Americans a chance. I hope I left a positive impression. He told me how he'd like to visit the US for Thanksgiving and Black Friday. While he'd rather spend money on nonmaterial things he's fascinated by the idea of our shopping day. These two kind Swiss gentlemen got me to road #1. I hopped out here as they continued to Reykjavik. Soon after I was passing the roundabout, crossing the bridge and walking down the street to pay my money and get a place for my tent.

I began this post in the communal room, all the faces are new, and I'm ending it in the tent. The owner came in to let us know the northern lights are starting. Tonight's show is supposed to be spectacular according to a man at Sólheimar. I've been out in the field but now I'm attempting to warm up a bit. Soon enough I'll be out there again. The lights come and go and I'd hate to miss something good. In between the satellites, shooting stars, regular stars and moon keep me entertained. The world isn't such a bad place. I've been reminded that there's lots of good out there. Something I'll try not to forget, and maybe one day I'll give someone a lift. Physically or emotionally.

Sincerely,
Zeb

Dear Gesthus,

Currently I'm sitting in your campsite common room on a large, black, L-shaped couch. I'm charging my phone while waiting for my instant noodles to finish cooking. Someone that looks to be aroud my age is cleaning up after the meal he and his friend just ate. The large windows looking out into the campground are slightly cracked and a cool breeze along with the sounds of children playing is finding its way in. There's a pond and a group of young school kids seem to be having a lesson involving it. They're all wearing neon yellow vests and rain gear.

Here in the common room people come and go. Every now and then a kind British man pops in. He's touring Iceland by bike, this is his second year. While others I've seen since my arrival yesterday disappeared into the country for good. Tents are taken down and new ones are put up. Soon I'll be one of those taking their tent down and heading out. Iceland is home to Sólheimar which is called the oldest eco-village in the world. It began as a children's home and now offers creative and fun employment for those with special needs. They also offer classes in sustainable living. In fact Sustainable Development is a large part of what they do. Along with classes they offer various volunteer and internship positions. As I'm not sure what it is I'll be doing in the future, maybe it's worth a look. It's 32km away and I think it wouldn't be such a bad walk. Maybe I'll even try a bit of hitchhiking. I've got 8 days to kill before my friend Anna and her friend Megan arrive.

For now though I'm enjoying my relaxation at the Gesthus resort. There's a very hot shower available whenever I want, WiFi from the tent, a kitchen, this cozy communal room and a toilet that flushes. I'm loving the toilet. But stand up before flushing, it's a bit powerful. There's even a place to do laundry for the steep price of 1,000 ISK, the price I paid for one night! But when it has been 5.5 weeks since the last time you properly washed anything you feel inclined to pay and not haggle. There's also some great entertainment in the form of a few old Gestabók, or guestbooks. Filled with good, poor, foul and interesting art. Accompanied of course by lovely entries with praise and thoughts on this interesting country. The guestbook is much like conversation here in the room. Most of it is in a language I don't understand but it's nice to hear or read a bit of English. There's even an entry in a made up language from the Artemis Fowl books. A series I loved to read at a younger age and may now have to revisit.

Today I'll probably be a bit lazy. There's a grocery store not far off that I need to visit, this is my third instant noodle meal. And I read about an independent book store. The British man told me he saw a bike shop, that'd be fun too. I think Selfoss has a bit to offer and I'm in no rush. Another night surely wouldn't hurt. The only other two Americans that were here could spare no time as they tried to plan out their last two action packed days. It seemed to be such a hassle to be in such a rush.

I'm now alone and the British man has said farewell. My noodle lunch is almost gone. The wind in the trees sounds peaceful. Maybe a nap here on the couch should be added to my agenda.

Sincerely,
Zeb

P.S. I left the dogs behind a bit suddenly. I feel that I'll have to wrap that up properly with another post at another time. The opportunity came up to be on my way so I went.

Dear Work,

How should I describe you? I haven't really said what an average day of work here is like. Mostly because there is not an average day. Each day is unique from the rest. Part of that is due to when tours are scheduled and part is working with live animals.

One thing is guaranteed though. Every morning I wake up around 6:45. Some days I go for a jog and some I'm lazy and just write in my journal or cherish the last few minutes in my cozy cocoon. At 8:00 it's time to visit my 46 fluffy friends. I walk from the caravan through the barn, cutting on the water, and round the corner to the kennel. There's something special about saying "Good Morning!" to a pack of stretching, yawning and yapping dogs. The wagging tails and excitement gets me every time. Judge and Odyssey are closest and always get the first pat. Narnja across the way makes her usual "oooooooh" noises as I walk to get the wheelbarrow and trusty shovel. I get the same shovel every time. It has a smooth wooden handle, a curve towards the bottom with a flat rusty blade and then a T grip up top. By now all the dogs are up. I start with Judge and Odyssey and work my way down to Jake and Magyuk scooping, spraying and filling bowls. Jake by the way is a funny dog. He's really shy but likes a pat. He'll look at you and then look away slowly getting closer while wagging his tail. After that row it's on to Maniitok and Mauricette down to Jasper who lives alone. I always have to pause along the way to say Hi to Nukilik the gentle giant. He does look down on me when standing and looks quite fearsome. But he's just a big puppy. A dog that didn't forget his childhood. When I walk away he'll turn his head sideways and wave his paw asking for me to return. Most of our dogs do this, it's really cute. Then it's on to my last row, Nilak and Nanooq down to Graumann and Nikita. Nilak and Nanooq like their brother Nukilik are giants. Graumann is another character. He's always grumpy. He growls a lot but he's just misunderstood. He's a good guy. His roommate Nikita is a sweetheart.

Cleaning and watering all the dogs takes me between 30-60 minutes depending on the poo situation. Afterwards on most days it's back to the caravan for a hot drink and breakfast. Sometimes though we have a tour at 10, no break these days. We offer tours at 10, 12, 2, 4, sunset and midnight. People go for midnight to gamble at seeing the northern lights while out. A typical tour costs $160 which sounds steep but after tax and dog expense only $3-4 out of every $10 is profit. To prepare for a dryland tour we get the cart (2 people) or trolley (3-6 people) ready. This means rolling it out next to the chain, attaching a gangline and puting concrete blocks in front of the tires. This is when the dogs get excited. They know they're about to run. You can feel, and hear, the joy. Next we bring out the harnesses for whichever team is being taken out. You take the harness and step into the cage to place the dog between your legs before slipping it over his/her head. Most dogs will pick up their paws when you ask for them to put through the holes. Once dressed you take the dogs to the chain, lead dogs up front and wheel dogs in the back. The front two are smart or should be. They listen to commands. The two behind them are the swing dogs, they help steer. Between the swing and wheel dogs you have the team. Your wheel dogs drive, they're your real power. When its time to go you ask the customers to hop on to add extra weight before you put the dogs on the gangline. The dogs will listen for the "Ready? Ok!" go command but they're so excited they might run off without you. Extra weight helps. On the gangline you hook them by the back of the harness as well as the neck. It's pull or be pulled. Slackers bring down the others' moods and makes for a slower run. When it's time to go the lead dogs are unhooked from their cement blocks while the ones from the tire are removed. Then the dogs are off!

While the tour is out unless I go I usually take time to do additional cleaning and make sure the dogs have water. Some days I may do a little grooming. Or if like today a family member stays behind I'll chat with them. Every now and then folks are driven to us by a guide service called Eskimoes. The driver that comes to us is named Karlina and she's fun to talk with. She thought my confusion over the company name was a real riot. In my ignorance I expected real Eskimoes. I look forward to her visits but she may be done for the year, we'll see. She once invited me to sit in the company Range Rover to warm up and it was this moment that I realized how much I smell like a dog. Next time we sat in the barn. When the team finally returns I'll help guide them in. We unharness the dogs while one person goes into the kennel. Once unharnessed you can let go of the dog, say "In", and they head for their home. People love watching that part. This process repeats on days with multiple tours. And no weather is bad enough to cancel. Rain, snow, shine. Or like today with a bit of a dust storm. In Iceland. Who knew?

On days without tours I spend most of my time grooming or walking dogs. Often there is an odd task to be done like strengthening the kennel walls or cleaning the barn. There usually isn't much of a schedule. At some point I'll take another break for lunch and maybe some journal writing. After this I'll work until it's time to feed. Feeding can be stressful. The dogs know when it's coming. When you chain up the first dog they go wild. We chain the dogs up so they don't fight over the food and they know this means dinner time. We bring out the bowls and place them in front of the cages then go down the lines filling them with food. Different dogs get different portions depending on how hard they work and how quickly they gain weight. Of course food goes in and poop comes out. Unless it's raw meat. They hang onto that. But usually afterwards it's scooping and filling water bowls. It's anywhere between 4-8pm when we finish and I'll eat my own dinner. The rest of the night is listening for a possible fight and checking in on the crew.

Breaking up a fight is unfortunately part of the gig. 90% of the time the dogs are calm. Maybe some barking or minor arguments and lots of howling. They're like roosters that howl. But every now and then it gets rough. You know it when you hear it. Most of the time you get there and pull them apart before any damage is done and life continues. Sometimes you show up and someone is missing half an ear like poor Jaquan. Aquilles got a snack. And rarely you get some bad news. Like when Iceman went to the vet to get put to sleep to have a couple teeth removed but didn't wake up. Life can be hard. The dogs can be a source of just as much sadness as joy. But it is mostly joy.

Working with this pack of dogs is something I'll never forget. I'll probably think of it often for the rest of my life. Like the description said it really is more of a lifestyle than it is a job. Every day I feel lucky to be saying "Good Morning!" to the kennel. I just wish they pooped a little less.

Sincerely,
Zeb

Dear Dogs,

You're pretty cool. At first I wasn't so sure that we would be getting along. I was thrown into a new world and a new lifestyle. From airport to scooping dog poop in around 4 hours. Having only slept a very uncomfortable 2.5 hours on the flight was certainly not helping. The bus ride from Keflavik to Reykjavik took around 45 minutes. We went from the coast through lava fields into the outskirts of town. I almost dozed off but knew I'd want to stay up to see all of the trip and I'm glad that I did. Sitting in the bus station I saw many young folks carrying backpacks like myself come and go. Not too much waiting and Erik, a Dutch musher that hates Holland, was walking in and asking "Charles?". Yep, that's me.

We hopped in what appears to be a minivan on steroids and took off. Another hour drive through what looked like more lava fields and we'd be in Selfoss. I couldn't help but picture all the rocks as Fairy houses after reading some articles about road routes being changed to avoid them. Driving up Erik pointed out a red caravan that I should toss my stuff into. Then it was off to meet the 44 big furry critters. They're wonderful. And did I mention big? These guys and gals aren't your typical dog. They're bred to work. I've never been close to a wolf in person but I now have a pretty good idea what it might be like. When Nukilik stands up he's looking me in the eyes. Just about all of them are. Some are even a bit taller. At first I saw the eyes of a predator. But not anymore. I see brown, friendly, almost human eyes. Asking for a scratch behind the ear or on the neck. Wondering if it's their turn for a walk or to be harnessed up and get to go to work. I wish everyone could love work as much as these dogs do. The moment they see a harness enter the kennel there's an explosion of excitement. Tails wag and whining begins. In these moments it can be easy to forget how dangerous they can be. Like the bossman Siggi says, you have to set them up to succeed. Brutus is one of our largest dogs, a huge Alaskan Malamute. He hates every male dog. If you put them in a situation where they can make a mistake they almost certainly will. Brutus is a happy fluffy guy but if you walk him too closely to another male on the way to hook him to the cart you've got a fight. Not a friendly fight. Not a play fight. But a legitimate fight to the death. Siggi once broke a shovel over a dogs head and he kept on fighting. It's not a mistake you want to make.

So we try to set the dogs up so they can't fail. And when we do that we get to have a pretty great time. We're a 1km walk from a huge river fed by glacier ice melt. Round trip it's my favorite walk to take the dogs on. Eyjafjallajökull is always in sight on a clear day. So is Hekla, one of Iceland's most active volcanoes. Sometimes I get to take as many as 8 dogs out in a day. That's 16km or around 10mi of walking. My feet certainly get tired but my eyes never do. Even when we go out on the road with the dogs there is always something to see. And there's nothing like the feeling of jogging along the team and helping them follow the musher's commands. Except maybe one thing. Dog Scootering. Sometimes if I'm lucky I get to harneness up a dog and hook him to a scooter. And really, really, there's nothing like that. As soon as you say "Ready? Ok!" and let off the brakes you're flying down the road. It's spectacular.

All of the fun of course has a price. I'm a pro poop scooper. Not to brag but I'm pretty damn good at it. I can hold the shovel in one hand and be in and out of the kennel before the dog even knows I was there. We fill a wheelbarrow or two per day. We could fertilize every farm in Selfoss. I've pretty much picked my favorite and least favorite dogs based on their poo. For example I quite like Hetja. Hers is always a compact little package easy to get on the shovel with very little residue. Akira on the other hand has serious mud butt AND likes to walk while pooping. Not my favorite dog. But one scooter ride or walk later and ya know, I remember it's not all shitty.

I've been fairly bad about updating this! Hopefully I'll be changing that. Soon I'll try to tell you about where/how I live, the folks I live with, my favorite dogs and more! I type all of this on my phone so it can be hard. If you have any questions though please ask! I do love to talk.

Sincerely,
Zeb