A story of a crossing of Iceland, unsupported, by foot and inflatable packraft.

As I lie on my side in the tent trying to decide what to write about, I catch sight of my reflection in the small, handheld gadget I’mm typing this on.

My head is thumping. My eyes are stinging. I’m weak with thirst.

A 16-foot canoe loaded with food, 500 miles of wilderness ahead of us, camping on islands under the stars: paddling down the Yukon River remains one of my favourite adventures.