It may surprise some, but I really love horses. Earliest memories are of passing carrots through a neighbor’s fence. We didn’t have any of our own but I vividly remember getting thrown for the first time at 9 years old (and having to get back on the horse). Volunteering at a local stable as a teen led to helping rodeo friends in Wyoming get ready for the rodeo. So it was fitting when I learned of the horse culture in Iceland, I would seek them out. This guy runs wild most of the summer. I couldn’t resist.