A The Ultimate Icelandic Adventure
The water's two degrees and my mouth, the only part of me exposed, is now numb. It's of no mind, though; the extreme environment is too beautiful to be worrying about small discomforts. I lie still, occasional wafts of my flippers my only movement, drifting in a current through the thin beginning of Iceland's Silfra Fissure in Thingvellir National Park, as I prepare to glide between the Eurasian and North American tectonic plates. It's a tranquil time, silent and pure.