In front of us lies a black track through no-man’s-land. Rocky and sandy, finding its way across Iceland with a backdrop of snow peaked mountains. A lonely lake is the ideal place to pitch our tent, if it wasn’t for the stormy wind pulling the pegs out with a force unknown to us. “Hold on to the tent-pole, Ellen!” Elmar rushes outside to pitch the pegs back into the ground. This wind is fierce!
We know one thing.. finding a hotel in Las Vegas during a mega-event on weekend nights after a long and exhausting flight.. well, impossible! So we head back to the airport and just fall asleep in a waiting room. These things happen!