Having traversed 1,098 km (682 miles) from western Iceland to the eastern-most fjords, the absence of roadside advertisements has been a refreshing departure from the norm. Anyone who has driven one route or another from New York to California knows that American highways are littered with billboards begging for attention. Rising from earth to sky, these monuments to consumerism feed the endless need to be entertained by human constructs rather than nature. In place of billboards, Iceland and the Icelandic people have strategically distributed mountains, volcanos, rivers, and waterfalls across their landscape. Should one become bored with these geologic wonders, tired eyes can gaze upon fields of sheep, majestic horses and ruins made by past Icelandic peoples. Our eleven day journey seemed to end before it began, and as I write these words I now long for the beauty of the tiny country that entered the modern age more eloquently than my own.