Turning thirty surprised me. A yearly re-iteration of my birth day often comes and goes without special acknowledgement. A small and simple gathering of a special few is more than enough to satisfy my humble soul.

This year proved to be slightly different. Although the company of individuals involved held true to the tradition, the location brought forth an elevated sense of adventure.

It was the 12th of September and we were on our last leg backpacking through Iceland. That particular day began with a hike across the Vatnajökull National Park. I enjoy retelling the story by emphasizing that the last adventurous act of my twenties included an individual effort of climbing to the top of a Kristinartindar mountain – a feat that required some courage due to un-hospitable weather/terrain conditions.

After completing the hike and reuniting with my friends we toasted away another century with a fine brew of Icelandic finest.

A few hours later; tucked away in my cosy sleeping bag I decided to check if faith had anything else in store for me. With little effort I zipped down the vestibule of my tent, popped out my head and opened my eyes to inspect the night sky.
It took only a second to recognize that elusive faint shimmering green tint of colour.

What followed next was described by my friends as: an unexpected chant of a possibly drunken mad man. My best friend was sleeping and getting poked by his wife who concluded that a post mountain climbing beer contributed to the disorderly behaviour.

I was very excited to say the least. Continuing the chant I changed and was out and ready to marvel at the nature’s rare wonders in under two minutes. My friends followed shortly.

In a similar fashion I enjoy concluding this story by emphasizing that the first wondrous act of my thirties included watching the northern lights.