The Suit Grows Up. Day Seven.

The outfit has been christened by the elements; water, mud, dust, fearsome wind and sunshine, boulder climbing, steep ascents and even some snow as we hiked through wondrous Thorsmork. Of course we all remember "the day of the horse."  Ruinous.

Today I was soaked-through three times.  Once in the blast-zone of a massive waterfall (Skogafoss - and entirely my fault),  once while walking the black-sand beaches of Dyrholaey nature reserve and finally hiking through the primordial canyon-land of Fjaðrárgljúfur.

At day seven the outfit begins to feel like an old friend.  

The shoes say "good morning, it's good to see you again."   Though we see one another daily the waistcoat  greets me with a hug and the coat an agreeable handshake while the braces are the strong, silent type.   The trousers are easygoing, content to let the others do the talking.   Like all old friends there are disagreements - moments where I want some time apart.    But  we know one another; our limits and what to expect.   There is comfort in this.