It was true. Of all his friends, Siggi was the only one who hadn’t settled down. He hadn’t wanted to, but it had been hard for the last few years, as his friendship group turned from a group of guys hanging out at the pool or the bar to a group of couples. They still went to the bar, less often to the pool, but it wasn’t the same and now he felt like an outsider. The fact that he travelled for weeks at a time also meant that he missed out on a lot of what went on in his friends’ lives.
‘It is getting harder to live “on the road”,’ Siggi said, making air quotes with his fingers. ‘I have started to miss a comfortable bed and hot showers. I think it is a sign I am getting old.’
‘Hey, we’re all getting older. Once you settle down with someone, I expect travelling will seem less appealing.’
Of course, Jonas saw everything through the lens of his own experience, as did the rest of his friends. As if there was a universal guide to life and happiness, and that eventually Siggi would cotton on and start following the same plan as they all had. Siggi had stopped pointing out that maybe he didn’t want to settle down in Reykjavik for the rest of his life. Meeting someone and making a home here didn’t appeal to him at all. But he didn’t know what he wanted to do instead. That was the problem. The travelling that he had always loved only seemed to emphasise the fact that he had grown out of the typical backpacker lifestyle. Often surrounded by people in their early-twenties who had no worries and their whole life ahead of them, the age-gap more recently felt cavernous. He had nothing in common with them but nothing in common with anyone else in his life either.
‘Did you see the IMO report on Reykjanes?’ Siggi asked, keen to change the subject. The Icelandic Met Office, the IMO, constantly monitored all the natural hazards in Iceland. For somewhere that expected seventy or so earthquakes every day, the institution was a part of everyday life.
‘No.’ Jonas frowned and pulled out his phone. ‘What’s going on?’
‘There have been some minor earthquakes north of Hraunvik.’
‘That is not good news.’ Jonas read the report while Siggi searched for more information on the computer. ‘Seems relatively stable still. We’ll keep an eye on things.’
It wasn’t unusual to hear reports like this. Iceland existed because the tectonic plates that form the continents of Americaand Europe were so volatile. The rift between the plates caused constant volcanic activity and earthquakes, and Icelanders were used to living with the geological uncertainty. In return, they harnessed the heat from beneath the earth’s surface, and that gave the island cheap heat and power and the ever popular hot springs.
But for Siggi, the news from Hraunvik was close to home. He had family in the town. Family he wasn’t close to; a decision he’d made fourteen years ago and regretted ever since. The threat to the town had started him dwelling on what might have been.
‘You are thinking of Arna?’ Jonas said quietly.
Siggi nodded. ‘But what can be done?’
Jonas shook his head. It was a conversation they’d had many times, and there was nothing new to say.
‘I have an email here that is strangely related,’ said Siggi, peering at the screen.
‘Related how?’
‘Some woman claiming to be a volcanologist asking if someone can accompany her to the Reykjanes peninsula to set up some equipment. I think she’s British.’
‘That sounds like a tourist who is hoping to get a front seat for the next eruption or something.’
It wasn’t unusual for them to get requests from people wanting a private tour to an eruption. It was something they could do, depending on the situation. They were always guided by the authorities, who were well-versed in dealing with the public wanting to view a lava flow. But these things were so unpredictable that they never agreed to anything outside of these parameters, however much someone was willing to pay. The safety of their clients was paramount.
‘I don’t understand why they’re not working with the IMO or the University? Don’t they usually set up equipment themselves?’
Jonas shrugged. ‘No one’s ever asked before, so I guess so.’
‘I will politely reject that request.’
‘That is fine with me. Okay, I’m going to the unit to get the kayaks down and check them over.’
Now that it was getting warmer, by Icelandic standards at least, it was time for the company to introduce activities that didn’t revolve around snow and ice. It was fun, giving them all more variety in the schedule and the opportunity to get more work. That was why Siggi always made sure he was around at this time of year. It was the best time to build up his savings, ready for his next adventure.
He responded to the email, saying in a much more polite way that they weren’t in the business of aiding and abetting amateur volcano hunters. Then he made himself another coffee.
Around an hour later, the door opened and a figure wearing too many layers for him to have any indication of gender or even whether it might be someone he knew, bundled inside, dragging a large leather holdall and a battered suitcase.
‘Halló, get ég hjálpað þér?’
The person, a woman, Siggi could see once she’d pulled her hood down and taken off her hat, looked at him blankly, but with something in her eyes that Siggi thought, unfortunately, might be anger.
‘Do you speak English?’
‘Yes, of course. Can I help you?’ He smiled in what he hoped was a charming, flirty way that would disarm her.
‘I emailed you earlier asking about a guide and driver to take me to the Reykjanes peninsula.’
