By Clément Morin – Our laden backpacks are wearing us out. We are progressing at a very slow pace under a scorching summer sun on an uncertain terrain. A terrain that not only happens to be a hardly practicable muddy marsh but also a nesting area with dozens of birds nose-diving and screaming above our heads, fiercely chasing us away from their territory. What was meant to be a smooth-sailing shortcut off the main track had become an unpredicted detour. It’s 2pm, the sun is at its highest and we’re at the northernmost point of mainland Iceland right below the Arctic Circle at the 66° parallel north.