I board a plane tomorrow, bound for Iceland.
In my backpack I've stuffed a tent + tent footprint, sleeping pad, sleeping bag + liner, and a blow-up pillow. To camp. In a snowy arctic winter. In the wilderness (campgrounds don't open for another 6-8 weeks). And I'll be there for a month. And I'm doing all of it solo. Oh yeah, and I've only camped four times in my life. All four times in my parent's backyard.
As I'm counting the hours before I leave...it's only now occurring to me that this is all sort of crazy.