chronicles of the uninhabitable land to the north, part 1.

Daniel: Iceland was destined to be a cornerstone in our travels. Gavin's tales, Sigur Ros and The Secret Life of Walter Middy all portray a depth of beauty that goes unparalleled. In reflection, it seems quite reasonable that CS Lewis and Tolkien drew on tales of the Uninhabitable Land to the North for inspiration for Narnia and Middle Earth. Iceland is expensive, and it was my intention to arrive there with enough money to have a good time. It was a dream to drive around the West Fjords, to hike Landmannalugar and to visit Solheimar Ecovillage. To swim in glaciers, hot springs, view geysers and play with horses. Somehow, Iceland found us in complete flow. Dreams came true.

Lauren: pulling up the shade on my window after my mini movie marathon on route from Helsinki, all I could see was a sea of white clouds. These clouds were coy, playful and lovely but flirtatiously concealing our destination. After a few moments the rouse was up and as the clouds parted I caught my breath escaping. It was love at first sight, from a thousand feet high.

Dstrel: The air was crisp, the wind was biting, the sky was dreary and the atmosphere was excitedly prime. Upon arrival at the BCM bus station, we were presented with The Keys To The City. A man had purchased 2 Rejkavik cards for the weekend and was flying out. This pass gave us access to all the museums and pools, which sounds underwhelming, but we have neglected to mention the fact that the pools are naturally heated and it was only 8 degrees out. An auspicious start.

We were foiled yet again by European efficiency. We told our host that we were arriving at 3. Europeans speak in 24 hour time, so he was out hiking in the rain when we arrived. So we walked briskly past the national staple food (hotdogs) and hit the pools.

El Strel: Recovering from an R-rated introduction to the women of Iceland in the pool's change-rooms (no doors, no cubicles, no curtains - just a lot of nudity from infants to the elderly), we headed back to the bus station for our rendezvous with our host. We found Hugi through the couch surfing website and while he does offer a free bed while you're with him (not just a couch!) he also charges 200 euro per person for a super charged two day tour with him as your driver and guide. We did a little bit of research and it not only seemed, based on the reviews, that this would be the most fun way to see the sites, but we wouldn't have to sell one of our kidneys to afford the trip.

Dinny - it wasn't R-rated, it was normal. Ok so if you want to imagine a man driving off-road while playing harmonica terribly while drinking tang while iceing both his eyeballs with the only thing he drinks besides tang - energy drinks, that's Hugi. We spent a day alone in the care of this mental patient and lived to tell the tale. We spent the morning (11 - 3pm) running amok on the lava fields, exploring ship-wrecks and abandoned houses that were now a long way from the sea. We learnt how Iceland was sucked into the beast through fishing. They were once a self-sustaining farming community and now they labour and toil to export fish and import televisions and hot dogs. In the evening, with the sun high in the sky, we stopped in at the Blue Lagoon.

At the Blue Lagoon, you can pay a lot of money for a face mask. Alternatively, you can pull up at the Geothermal Plant, drop an egg in the sand and collect a big ol' big of silica for yourself.

Lorenzo: The following day, Hugi took Daniel and I along with two other couch surfers Claudia and Daniel, jumped into a hired van and covered a month's worth of tourist spots in 14 hours.

Digby: The power of those waterfalls, the shrinkage from swimming in glacial waters and the eerie nature of a black beach even now feels unfathomable. Hugi was a genius, the giver of gargantuon gifts.

Thousands of words worth of pictures below. 

Daniel swimming in the waterfall

Adventures into Health Sovereignty

In Finland, I wound up in hospital again. This time, it was appendicitis. I am told that acute appendicitis is quite serious, that it should be operated immediately and that if it ruptures there would be shit all over my lumen and that I could become septic and die. However, we waited 7 hours to see a doctor in Pori hospital.

When a short haired young surgeon did attend me, he proudly rattled off a number of epidemiological statistics to me and assured me it was safe and necessary, quick and cheap. When I asked him how he knew for sure that it was appendicitis, he proclaimed "When we remove the appendix, we will see the inflammation!!  In 90% of cases". This seemed absurd to me, but I soon realised that much of the decision making process in hospitals is based on epidemiology and not on what's actually happening for the patient. I had neglected this in my painful perusal of Kumar & Clarke.

Lauren had found some articles online about successful appendicitis treatment with hardcore IV probiotics. I love a good drip anyway, and with extremely concentrated urine, I was convinced that this was the right way to go. So I demanded it. The doctor was quite upset and didn't understand at all. In his mind it was safe, effective, cheap and quick, and I had insurance.

I assured them that 4 days in hospital was no big deal (I needed some rest again anyway) and did not give my consent to surgery. I was contemptuously delivered to a quarantined section in the surgical ward.

I was scared. Of course. Particularly for Lauren, who stood faithfully beside me and bravely held my hand and backed me all the way. I was forced to take a stand, to put some action and faith behind the words that I preach. These words are about my body's natural ability to heal.

But the appendix isn't important - we have been told. I didn't have the full download on the appendix but I knew it was part of my immune system. I'm also aware of how patients can "recover" and live "normally", without ever linking the cascade of health challenged that occur after having an organ removed. I just wasn't convinced that it was necessary.

I had a restless night and just as I found some peace and slipped into some solid as slumber, an Old Nurse stormed in, smacked me in the stomach and told me that they needed to operate. She was an Old Nurse and Finnish Matriarch and had seen it all. I was desperately hanging out for my test results. When they arrived, my CRP inflammation markers had risen from 24 to 71. Normal is 9. My heart began to beat faster, but the young nurse told me that while it was high, it was lower than expected, and they would continue to monitor me.

I got on to my friend, a champion in health sovereignty, Mason Taylor. We worked out that the appendix is a storehouse for beneficial bacteria, plays an important role in pulling out parasites and creates some hormones as well. Mostly, I wanted to know that I wasn't insane. Having Mason available and playing full out for me on Skype was so reassuring. When we take a risk and take responsibility, we put our trust in ourselves, but we don't need to be alone. Thanks brother. We discussed the role medicinal mushrooms Reishi and Chaga and the most powerful anti inflammatory food, tumeric, and Lauren smuggled some into the hospital for me.

I was on a mission to drive the inflammation down. Most of my sugar, wheat and chemical laden food ended up in the bin and the catering staff couldn't work out what to feed me. The nurses didn't seem to understand the benefits of fasting. When my tea came, I'd stuff the bag in the draw and unscrew two reishi capsules and drop them into the hot water. Eventually, the tumeric (curcuma extract 2400mg) tablets replaced the ibuprofen and paracetamol, because it was equally effective.

My friend Holly organised a Body Talk session for me on Skype with a remote healer. Tanja assured me that my appendix wanted to stay, and I explored some deep emotional links to my physical condition. I visualised my bowels being washed in healing water and I had complete peace and trust after this.

I had to step up and take a stand for myself with 4 different doctors, on the last day, 7 people marched into my room first thing in the morning to put the pressure on. My ass was swabbed every morning because I had been in hospital in India and I had to shit on a bucket. When I did, I made sure it was ripe. I was in quarantine. The nurses had to sterilise themselves. They were afraid of ME. I found this quite entertaining.I began making the most of my time in hospital, listening to Nakao Bear & Medicine for the people, taking half hour showers and sun toning / chakra singing, meditation and keeping the positivity high. I became overwhelmed with feelings of love and gratitude for life.

My inflammation came down and I was offered preventative  surgery one more time before I was discharged, with a warning that it WILL come back. The nurse who brought me my papers was speechless.I don't think anyone had stepped into sovereignty in Pori hospital before.

Now it was up to me to make some changes in my life and diet. I stopped eating meat. I agreed with Lauren to take the course of antibiotics prescribed but after 3 days, my tongue was white and I was losing sleep due to a severe fungal rash. I knew that the antibiotics were directly responsible. I read an intriguing Christian book about healing and was praying to God. I got an answer. "You say you are healed, why are you taking antibiotics?" I spoke to Lauren and stopped taking them.

Since then, I have had one flare up. I noticed that it only hurt if I was stressed or afraid. So I stopped worrying, popped a couple of coffee enemas and returned to healing. I'm grateful for the snake medicine for teaching me to trust myself.