Step, slide, and stomp. The volcano was behind us now but the journey wasn’t over. The rain was pouring down like bullets. I could hear and feel the drops on my oversized, orange rain jacket. I was putting all my effort into moving my legs. With each step, I felt like I was slugging my way through quicksand. I was moving so much but not going anywhere. The Iceland scenery was beautiful and beaming like it was pulled straight out of a movie. But I was too busy trying to stay on the ground to notice. The wind was pushing me back with each big blast like God himself was trying to keep me back. But I kept pushing forward. I could see the small, shabby, shack at the end of the trail. Slowly but surely, it was getting bigger. And in that moment, bigger was better. Step, slide, and stomp. I felt stuck in a loop, like someone had coded me to only move in certain ways; step, slide, stomp, step, slide, stomp. The shack was getting bigger with every one of my explosive efforts. After a long, loathsome hour, the loop was broken. The short, stubby shack was right in front of me. It was like seeing water after trekking through a desert. Not needing to try to stay on the ground anymore, I ran right in. Like a fast, forceful flurry, I entered the shack, the safe shack, with a sigh of relief. I caught my breath for a second and sat down with my family.