The Northern Lights
I’m a relentless unpacker. The second I walk through the door after a trip—no matter how late it is, no matter how wrecked I feel—I need to empty my suitcase. It’s my way of declaring the journey officially over, a necessary reset button for re-entering real life. But this week, with just four days between trips, I found myself in rare territory: the acceptable window for not unpacking. Instead, I dumped my dirty clothes in the hamper and left my suitcase sprawled open, ready to be repacked with a fresh rotation of the same essentials.
If you’re a regular reader of this Substack, you know that my wife AJ and I travel a lot. So you won’t be surprised to learn that when a good friend called offering a last-minute trip to Ólafsfjörður, a remote area in the far north of Iceland, we jumped at the opportunity. I love cold things—ice cream, snow—so a visit to the Arctic during a cold-ish, dark month was right up my alley. AJ, on the other hand, who hates all things cold but loves an adventure, went along happily. We made a few jokes about changing our flights to one-way the day after the election, and off we went.
Most people think of Reykjavik when they hear “Iceland”—the buzzy capital where 280,000 of the country’s 380,000 people live. Ólafsfjörður is something else entirely. Five hours north, on the edge of the Arctic Ocean, it’s raw, sparsely populated, and utterly quiet. We stayed at Deplar Farm, a secluded retreat with only 13 rooms and no shortage of ways to sink into the wilderness.
On our first night, the northern lights put on a green, swooshing laser show that moved quickly against the night sky. Words and photographs fail to capture the intensity and surreal beauty of this display, though AJ’s photo comes pretty close.
The rest of the trip was a mix of slow adventure: archery lessons, Icelandic smoked fish, a tour of a world class recording studio, and hours of nothing but wild landscapes and crisp, silent air. I baked myself in a 200-degree “Viking sauna” and braved a cold plunge that felt like a thousand tiny needles pricking my skin at once. It was a kind of reset I didn’t know I needed.
The real surprise came on our last night, when I climbed onto a makeshift stage above the hotel bar. A couple of other guests joined me, and before long, we were in an improvised jam session that devolved into live karaoke—my sincere apologies to Weezer and Led Zeppelin. When “the band” got tired, AJ’s powerful rendition of System of a Down’s “Chop Suey” became the real musical highlight of the night.
Now, I’m on a flight to London, swapping remote silence for the hum of a city I visit so often it’s practically a second home. Soon, AJ and I will be back home, where I look forward to some New York holiday energy. When I arrive, I’ll unpack for real—not just my suitcase, but everything the Arctic reminded me to carry forward: to pause, to reset, and to make room for the beauty in extremes.
My story isn’t really a secret, but I’m thrilled to be a guest on an upcoming episode of Dani Shapiro’s amazing “Family Secrets” podcast. My episode will air later this month, and there’s a short preview in the season trailer.
All 20 episodes of Identified Season 1 are live now. Episode one is with Karen Ayers, a living descendant of the man who enslaved my paternal ancestors. After that, it’s a rapidly growing list of musicians, comedians, authors, chefs and friends talking about family. Identified is available on all major podcast platforms, 100% free and ad free. You can watch short video clips on YouTube and Instagram. Watch for Season 2 in 2025.
Listen: Apple Spotify Amazon Bandcamp Website
My memoir is called My Life in the Sunshine. You can order it here, or listen to the audiobook on Spotify.
I hope to see you somewhere soon. Upcoming events are always listed here.
Nabil Ayers / Brooklyn
I also 100% do my best to unpack right after coming back from the airport. I try to throw all my clothes in the washing machine too! crazy. Iceland sounds amazing.
What great pics!