Prologue: At the Edge of Everything
Some stories begin in cities of glass and noise. Mine begins in silence — the kind that only lives at the ends of the Earth.
In the fall of 2025, I found myself chasing the cannabis plant from one edge of the planet to another — from Reykjavík, Iceland, just below the Arctic Circle, to Ushuaia, Argentina, the southernmost city on Earth. Two hemispheres, two extremes, two frontiers where the air is thin, the weather unpredictable, and the culture disarmingly warm.
It started in the north, in a nation of glaciers and geothermal fire — a place that feels both ancient and futuristic at once. There, I witnessed Iceland’s major cannabis conference, Version 3.0, Hemp for the Future, where science, culture, and courage collided under the aurora borealis. A few weeks later, I followed that same spirit south, to the windswept edge of Patagonia, to Tierra del Fuego, the legendary Land of Fire, where Argentina’s growing cannabis movement is shaping something bold and new against a backdrop of mountains and sea.
Between the poles, a simple truth revealed itself: the plant finds its people. From volcanic islands to glacial peninsulas, the same rhythms repeat — curiosity, courage, community. The cannabis conversation is no longer confined to capitals and boardrooms. It’s happening in places where the land itself tests what humans are made of.
This is a story about those places — about fire and ice, smoke and spirit, and the people at the edges of the map who are lighting the way forward.
Fire and Ice
Many people think of Iceland as the vacation of a lifetime, while others are drawn only to sun-soaked beaches. I seem to chase something else — cannabis to the ends of the Earth.
Reykjavík, Iceland’s capital — meaning “Smoky Bay” — was founded in the late 9th century by Norse settlers, named for the steam rising from the area’s geothermal springs. But don’t you tell me this town ain’t got no heart. You feel it the moment you step outside: the bite of the wind off Faxaflói Bay, the curling geothermal steam rising through the streets, and the warmth of strangers who greet you like old friends. This city hums with a quiet rhythm.
I have traveled to Iceland several times before. Iceland, I’ve found, is an amazing destination for just about anything — including cannabis. That same spirit defined Hemp for the Future 2025, a gathering unlike any other, where farmers met futurists, policy met philosophy, and the cannabis plant was treated not as a taboo but as a teacher. At the center of it all was Þórunn Þórs Jónsdóttir – who we simply know as Tóta. She is the visionary force who pulled it off with grace, grit, and a sense of purpose that would make even the most seasoned conference organizer tip their hat.
“I wanted to create a space where science, spirit, and social change could finally meet — where people could talk about cannabis openly, without fear or stigma,” Tóta told me. “What happened at IÐNÓ felt like history in motion.”
Inside the storied IÐNÓ Theatre, the air buzzed with optimism. The roster of speakers was extraordinary:
Ian Rassman, the unofficial “Mayor of Cannabis,” led a Reykjavík Cannabis Walking Tour and discussed financial services in the cannabis industry.
“In the global cannabis industry, access to banking and payments isn’t just about moving money — it’s about moving the industry forward,” he said. “Real progress means recognizing that financial services aren’t a luxury; they’re the foundation of safety, transparency, and equity. Without them, we’re not just breaking the law — we’re breaking consumer trust, public safety, and business-to-business transparency.”
Beau Whitney (of Whitney Economics) analyzed market data and emerging global trends.
“Cannabis has both medicinal and wellness applications,” Beau explained. “The global wellness industry is exploding — a $6.3 trillion global market — and $830 billion of that is associated with wellness tourism. Iceland is already a wellness destination, and canna-wellness tourism is already estimated to be a $2.0 billion industry. Cannabis could elevate that even further.”
Mariana Larrea unpacked stigma, regulatory frameworks, and pathways to legalization.
“Latin America has taught the world that legalization isn’t an event — it’s a process,” she said. “It’s not just about opening a market; it’s about opening minds. The key is to regulate with empathy and courage, not fear.”
Cynthia Salazarideh reminded us how far the industry has come, while Jamie Pearson delivered a rousing keynote, sharing her trademark blend of pragmatism and inspiration.
“The cannabis industry’s future belongs to nations courageous enough to regulate it,” Jamie said. “Courageous cannabis policy isn’t risky — it’s smart economics. Legalization drives revenue, reduces harm, and positions nations like Iceland at the forefront of wellbeing-based growth. If Iceland is brave enough to legalize cannabis — to build trust, craft regulation, and provide safe access — the plant transforms into medicine, a climate solution, and justice reform all in one.”
Dustin Hoxworth of Fat Nugs Magazine reminded everyone what this industry is really about:
“Let’s keep in mind that normalization and legalization aren’t just about policy or profits — it’s about humanity,” he said. “It’s about building a world where cannabis is as natural as conversation, where people come together not in fear, but in understanding and connection to build community and shared truth around a plant that heals.”
Rafal Modlinski spoke of hemp’s synergy with bees, Jim Pearson discussed cultivation standards, and Sara Payan brought the audience back to the human heart of it all.
“After a lifetime in the cannabis industry, I never thought I’d see the world beginning to accept the medicinal benefits this plant offers,” Pearson reflected. “But it’s happening — and Iceland has a unique chance to lead through quality, research, and renewable energy.”
“What struck me most about Iceland wasn’t just its natural beauty, but the generosity woven into its culture,” said Payan. “Whether sharing a meal or a story, people met you with genuine curiosity. It reminded me that hospitality is a kind of shared rhythm — an unspoken language.”
“When women lead,” she added, “the cannabis space expands in empathy, creativity, and balance. We carry an understanding of abundance — that success isn’t about taking more, but about creating more for everyone.”
Each speaker brought a unique lens, sparking conversations that stretched long after the sessions ended.
The Icelandic audience was electric. They weren’t passive observers; they were engaged, curious, asking sharp, informed questions. Iceland ranks among the world’s highest per-capita cannabis users, yet its laws remain among the most restrictive. The people are ready; yet the government does not seem to be paying much attention.
“The energy in that room was incredible,” Tóta said. “You could feel people waking up — not just to the plant, but to the possibilities it carries for healing, innovation, and community.”
That tension threaded through much of our conversation. Iceland’s CBD and hemp framework mirrors broader world standards — cautious, precise, restrictive. Yet hemp could be Iceland’s bridge — a renewable crop rooted in clean-energy ethos, a seed for innovation in textiles, wellness, and climate-conscious agriculture.
“Hemp is Iceland’s chance to show how innovation can be ethical, sustainable, and rooted in care for people and the planet,” Tóta told me. “We don’t need to copy others — we can lead in our own way.”
And yet, just a football-field away from the Parliament building, government officials were seemingly absent. Tóta and the organizers worked tirelessly, through local contacts, to coordinate meetings, provide resources, and share global insights on cannabis legalization and medical frameworks. Across the world, dozens of countries have embraced reform; here, the world’s leading cannabis experts gathered — literally steps from policymakers — and the doors remained closed. I am not here to critique or criticize Icelandic politics; I know little of its inner workings. But in the nearly 40 countries I’ve worked with, officials almost always seize the chance to engage on emerging industries – especially when the world’s leading industry experts are present in one location at one time. That this opportunity passed by is a quiet lament — a moment lost. Yet, even without them, the dialogue thrived. Often, momentum comes from the people in the private sector, from grassroots innovators, from relentless organizers like Tóta.
Dr. Callie Seaman, a leading plant scientist, echoed that optimism from across the Atlantic.
“The potential of cannabis as a medicine is phenomenal,” she said. “Given its strong safety profile and the wide range of ailments it can treat, cannabis-based medicines are a natural progression in healthcare. With an aging global population, the world needs alternatives to addictive medications whose side effects often outweigh their benefits.”
The scenery outside matched the depth of the discussions. Iceland is cinematic by accident: glaciers, geothermal vents, steaming pools, volcanic plains, and placid lakes. The JT Barnett Films crew captured it all.
Beyond the conference, Iceland revealed itself through food, drink, and culture. I sampled every dish I could: the Icelandic hot dog — snap intact, crowned with crunchy onions, ketchup, and sweet mustard — deserves legend status. Icelandic lamb, roasted or stewed, was rich and earthy. Fresh fish appeared twice a day, a daily reminder of the North Atlantic’s bounty. Soups steeped in Viking heritage warmed both body and soul. Nights spilled into the city’s bars, lively and welcoming — a reminder that beer was illegal here until 1989, yet now the nightlife bubbles with charm, camaraderie, and stories waiting to be told.
Snowmobiling across glaciers, wandering the Golden Circle, soaking in the Blue and Sky Lagoons — Iceland’s natural theater is as bold as its people. The Northern Lights eluded me, but perhaps that’s the point: some things aren’t captured, they’re chased.
“Standing in Iceland, between the North American and Eurasian plates, you can feel the planet breathing beneath your feet,” said Ian Rassman. “The geothermal power below is raw and relentless; the glacial water above, crystal clear and pure. Together they remind you that real balance comes from respecting both strength and purity — and the Icelandic people live that balance every day.”
When the sessions ended, we toasted the future — convinced that hemp’s time has come. Iceland, with its intellect and integrity, has everything it needs to adopt and integrate this global movement if it chooses to open its heart.
“If legalized,” Beau Whitney added, “cannabis in Iceland has a domestic potential market of $85.7 million, generating nearly 2,000 jobs — not including canna-tourism. With 2.3 million tourist visits per year, cannabis-related tourism alone could add $75 million to Iceland’s economy. This isn’t fantasy. It’s math.”
Because at its core, this isn’t just about hemp or cannabis. It’s about aligning innovation with values. About seeing nature as a partner, not a product. About small nations showing big ones how to act with courage and conscience and follow the will of their people.
The land of fire and ice did not disappoint.
Smoke and Spirit — Tierra del Fuego and the Southern Frontier
If Iceland is Fire and Ice, then Patagonia — and particularly Tierra del Fuego — is its perfect mirror image: Smoke and Spirit.
Tierra del Fuego, “Land of Fire,” was named by early European explorers who, when they first saw this archipelago at the southern tip of South America, noticed hundreds of campfires glowing along the coastline. The indigenous Fuegian tribes kept them burning for warmth and ceremony in the eternal cold. The sight of that living fire flickering against the black sea and glacial mountains gave the land its name — a place defined by heat amid the ice.
Centuries later, I found myself there — one of the last stops before Antarctica — after attending Expo Cannabis Argentina in Buenos Aires. It felt poetic: to travel from the world’s northernmost cannabis gathering to its southernmost frontier within weeks, tracing a line of light through the darkness of global prohibition.
Buenos Aires: A City in Bloom
Buenos Aires greeted me with the hum of spring and the unmistakable aroma of cannabis in the air. The Expo Cannabis Argentina (October 17–19, 2025) was more than a conference — it was a celebration of how far Latin America’s movement has come.
Argentina’s cannabis program today is medical, allowing registered patients to access cannabis-based treatments for a range of qualifying conditions — from chronic pain and refractory epilepsy to certain neurological and autoimmune disorders. Cultivation for medical use is regulated, and research continues to expand under government supervision. This has opened the door to a modest but growing commercial opportunity, with licensed producers and extractors serving a market defined by compassion rather than scale. It remains fairly narrow compared to North American frameworks — more laboratory than industry — but it’s a start.
What Argentina lacks in scope, it makes up for in spirit. The program has catalyzed innovation and activism alike, inspiring universities, clinics, and community growers to participate in a national conversation about access, science, and sovereignty.
At the Expo, that energy was palpable. The stages pulsed with optimism — a fusion of policy debate, live art, and entrepreneurship. Familiar faces filled the halls: Zara Snapp, Luna Stower, Kyle Kushman, Jürgen Bickel, Mercedes Ponce de León, Lance Lambert, and countless others.
At the center of it all was Simón Espinosa of En Volá, the Chilean cannabis media visionary behind Very Happy, a project documenting global cannabis culture from Berlin to Buenos Aires.
“We’re not just filming cannabis,” Simón told me. “We’re filming connection.”
To the End of the World
After the Expo, we boarded a flight to Ushuaia — the world’s southernmost city. The sign at the airport reads Fin del Mundo — End of the World. They aren’t exaggerating.
Ushuaia sits between mountains and sea, where winds slice through every layer you wear. The cold is absolute, the light surreal. The landscape — glaciers, cliffs, icy rivers — looks half-finished, as if the Earth forgot to tidy up before moving on. Yet, even here, cannabis conversations bloom like moss in the tundra.
The Very Happy team came along — a global mix of social media influencers, filmmakers, educators, and advocates from Argentina, Chile, Mexico, Spain, Germany, and the U.S. We were there to film, reflect, and share stories of how cannabis connects us — even at the planet’s edge.
“It’s really fucking cold,” someone said stepping off the plane, and everyone laughed. That line became our anthem.
We hiked glaciers, visited small farms experimenting with sustainable hemp textiles, and shared mate beside the fire and the roasting lamb. Around one fire, Pablo Sayar, of DC Grow Ushuaia, said something that stayed with me:
“We grow plants, but what we’re really growing is courage.”
That courage felt like the same fire that once lit the shores of Tierra del Fuego — now burning as community, creativity, and conviction.
The New Fire
Patagonia’s cannabis story is still being written. Argentina’s medical framework provides structure; its people provide soul. The entrepreneurs and educators of Buenos Aires bring the science; the artists and growers of Patagonia bring the heart.
Like Iceland, Tierra del Fuego is a frontier — not of lawlessness, but of imagination. Here, at the bottom of the world, people are building bridges between culture and commerce, wellness and wilderness.
Standing at the Ushuaia harbor, with glaciers behind me and Antarctica over the horizon, I realized: these two poles — Fire and Ice — aren’t opposites. They’re partners.
One island harnesses geothermal energy to light its path toward reform. The other carries fire in its name, burning bright against the cold. Both are led by small, passionate communities showing the rest of the world what courage looks like.
Epilogue — Fire, Ice, and Everything in Between
Standing at the bottom of the world, it hits you: cannabis has already arrived. It’s in the hands of patients, the hearts of growers, the minds of scientists, the songs of travelers. It has crossed oceans, climbed mountains, and slipped quietly into the DNA of every culture that’s brave enough to listen.
The southern frontier, like the north, tells the same story — one of resilience and renewal. In Argentina, cannabis is legal for medical use, allowing patients to access the plant for a variety of conditions. That cautious permission has opened a door: a commercial opportunity, narrow for now, but widening every season. Entrepreneurs, patients, and policymakers are finding their rhythm — and like the glaciers, progress here moves slowly but inexorably forward.
Yet what’s remarkable is how far the culture has already traveled. From Buenos Aires cafés to Patagonian hostels, from Icelandic spas to Andean valleys, the plant carries a unifying pulse. It’s a language spoken in whispers and laughter, in tinctures and textiles, in music and medicine. It binds the practical and the poetic, the sacred and the scientific.
What began as rebellion is becoming routine; what was once criminal is now cultural. Cannabis is not waiting for permission. It grows wherever there is soil and curiosity — and even here, at the ends of the Earth, it finds both.
Governments, inevitably, will continue to follow. The people are always ahead: growing, learning, sharing, building small freedoms that eventually become laws. Whether for personal peace, medical relief, or creative spark, the plant has found its way into nearly every corner of the human experience.
This journey — from Reykjavík to Ushuaia, from fire to ice — reminded me that cannabis is more than a crop or a cause. It’s a mirror of our evolution, an emblem of our willingness to rethink what we’ve been told. In every latitude, I saw the same light: a future that’s still being written, one seed, one story, one act of courage at a time.
At the ends of the Earth, the plant endures — and so does the hope it carries. The smoke rises from volcanic soil and cold sea wind alike, a signal that no frontier is too remote, no culture too closed, no future too far.
Because in the end, cannabis doesn’t just belong to nations or laws.
It belongs to people.
It belongs to the world.