The Hot Springs in Iceland

On a trip to Iceland in February, my partner and I hiked forty-five minutes through a snowy valley to a natural hot spring in a river. The guidebook said it was "worth it." The guidebook was an understatement.

The river was steaming. We changed in a tiny wooden shelter, shrieking at the cold, and then slid into the water, which was the temperature of a perfect bath. Snow was falling. The mountains around us were white. There were maybe six other people there, all of us floating in the river with snowflakes landing on our noses.

A man from Germany shared a chocolate bar. A couple from Reykjavík told us about the northern lights. Nobody wanted to get out.

We stayed for two hours. The hike back was freezing and we didn't care. My partner said it was the most perfect moment of our lives. I didn't argue.