Cutbank

On Responsibility

Golden-hour sun appears unexpectedly for the first time in three days. Its arrival delivers desperately needed warmth and motivation. Guide Sævar Örn Hafsteinsson races from this unproductive section of Iceland’s Huseyjarkvisl River and insists there is time for one more stop—a place where the sun is surely shining.

Words and Photo: Hannah Matousek

I’m not supposed to be here. People with “-aire” at the end of their net worth belong here. People with fancy titles and big responsibilities belong here. Me? Last year’s taxes had me in the mid-five figures. Certainly not an “-aire” of any kind.

I’m here in the icy cold waters of the Huseyjarkvisl River in Northwest Iceland by the sheer randomness of the universe and because I’ve been able to dodge any real responsibility thus far. I’ve lived my whole life with pride in the knowledge that I could pack my most precious and necessary belongings into my car in only a few hours and run—either for fun or for necessity. A therapist might attribute this to an unstable childhood or the inheritance of my father’s rambling tendencies. I choose to believe it’s an adaptation that keeps life from getting stagnant. Always one foot out the door.

On Responsibility

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