Buy fireworks assortments online dating
Until I visited Iceland, I didn’t know that wind velocity could be measured by increments of metres per second. ‘Maybe 30 metres per second,’ he responds somewhat coldly. We may have to change our plans.’Instead, we’re huddled under a canopy at the Thingvellir National Park, the site of Iceland and supposedly the world’s first parliament (the Thingvellir Viking Parliament) in a valley surrounded by low volcanic mountains which coincidentally share the fault line where western Iceland separates from eastern Iceland. I put my back to the ceaseless icy wind, feeling shards of frozen sleet blast against my hooded parka. Trying hard to respect the important austerity of Iceland’s most historic pilgrimage place, I can only think about how I can hold a second mug of soup out of the wind long enough for me to drink it. The wind is blowing too hard against it.’ We continue driving up the spectacularly beautiful western coast road along Faza Bay on the Thjodvegur Road past to Hrutey and turn inland towards Akureyri then south some twenty kilometres to a different farmhouse better sheltered against the furious winds.I am accustomed to hearing wind speeds announced either in kilometres per hour or miles per hour, not metres per second. We were scheduled to spend our fabulous first night on a 'Winter Highlights' expedition jeep trek across Iceland’s mountainous interior in a farmhouse near a beach popular with seals at Skagafjord on Iceland's northern coast. [caption id="attachment_1753" align="alignnone" width="336"] Highway Number 1 along west coast.[/caption] We arrive just before dark, enough time to cross country to visit an isolated ice cave.I ask one of our guides, ‘How fast is 25 metres per second? Our guide reached the owner of the hut by phone warning him of our imminent arrival. We chat about elves and trolls that are said to inhabit caves throughout Iceland. I don’t see trolls but I do see an extended white frozen tunnel, an extinct lava tube that recedes into darkness.
So, take a stroll down memory lane to remember all of our past Word of the Year selections.
There was a time, not too long ago when I released very little, because I would only release things that I felt were really good stories, with deep plots and lots of character interaction.
In the past year I have tried to broaden my writing, and in doing so I have released stories of two different categories: Stories with deep plots and meanings within the tale, and other stories dealing mainly with sex and obtaining said sex.
No horizon, no landscape, simply hour after hour of white nothingness which we traversed via GPS. We pressed on to a mountain hut, donned snowshoes and walked around a hot springs area while trying to remain standing so as not to fall into the scalding sulfurous water. Inside the jeep, all I could see was white windows or fellow frozen passengers.
Once we stopped to look out over a lake behind a dam, part of western central Iceland’s hydro-electric system.
[caption id="attachment_1760" align="alignnone" width="336"] Icelandic horse enjoying the weather.[/caption] Interestingly, if an Icelandic horse is taken off the island, it's never allowed to return.