Iceland 2002

Monday 1^st July

Up early at Glasgow Youth Hostel, a quick breakfast then I get the bike out of the bike shed. I noticed the front end wobbling badly yesterday so I check the cones and headset to make sure they're OK. Everything seems fine to me but the bike still wobbles, time to find a bike shop. Gear Bikes in Gibson St were very helpful but can't find anything wrong with it. 

I get the train from Glasgow Central to Paisley Gilmour St and then follow the cycle path to the airport. Once inside I find a quiet corner and take the pedals and bottle cages off the bike before turning the handlebars and wrapping the main tubes in bubblewrap. As I'm cutting things up with my knife a policeman comes over and starts chatting, he's a cyclist as well and wants to know where I'm going. At least he isn’t pointing a gun at me.

Check in is painless, they take my panniers off me and tell me to take the bike through some doors at the end of the hall, I get a little bit lost but my policeman friend points me in the right direction.

I get a window seat at the back of the plane and am pleased to see them being careful as they load my bike onto the conveyor.

The flight is uneventful and I get a good view of a glacier before landing at Keflavik.  The bike is waiting for me in the luggage collection area and the panniers come through on the conveyor. I collect all my stuff and check the bike out, a little dent in my new rear rack but no other damage. 

There is another English cyclist at the airport, Dave Clark who flew in from Heathrow. Neither of us has a route planned so we decide to ride to Keflavik itself and stay at the campsite there for the first night. 

I wobble my way to the campsite which is nicely situated next to a supermarket and has big earth banks all around as windshields. Put the tent up and then stock up with food at the supermarket and fuel for my stove at the garage. 

The campsite costs 600Kr and has a nice room where you can cook and eat in bad weather. There is also a lot of spare food and fuel left by people going home. Free hot showers with a strong smell of Sulphur. Supper is pasta and ham, I phone home and give the bike a final tweak before crawling into my sleeping bag at 10:00 in broad daylight.  

Tuesday 2^nd July – 36Km

A quiet, dry night. Breakfast of coffee, ham, cheese, bread and a carton of Skyr, the local yoghurty stuff. Dave heads off towards Grindavik, I pack the tent away and ride the bike around Keflavik whilst deciding which way to go, North to Reykjavik or South along the coast. The front of the bike is still wobbling at any speed so I spend some time experimenting with different weights in the front panniers. Nothing seems to work and it would be dangerous to ride like this so I end up leaving them with the campsite manager. This drastically reduces my luggage space, out goes the smart trousers for evenings, the fleece sweater, the books and the jar of peanut butter and herbs, spices and olive oil. 

I decide to go south towards Grindavik and leave Keflavik at approximately 11:30. Local children are busy cutting grass and tending flowerbeds at the roadside. I later learn that all children above a certain age are assigned paid work during the summer (although half their wages are taxed for their education). 

The first part of the day is on a sealed road going past the NATO air base at Keflavik, I see some helicopters and a couple of F-18's on patrol. The road is flat with lots of barren lava to either side, some of it covered with grey-green lichen. Weather is quite warm with broken cloud and no wind. 

A little further on and I turn off onto the track for the headland and lighthouse at Reykjanesvita, I stop to take a few photos of the birds nesting on the seastacks then head back to the main road. 

The good road has finished now, it's a rough, potholed dirt track and there are Arctic Terns nesting on both sides of the road. They do not like me riding through their nesting area and are very aggressive, dive bombing me with several near misses. I’m glad I brought a helmet ! 

As I approach Grindavik the lava turns to farmland, Grindavik itself although small has a supermarket and a good _free_ campsite with a sheltered cooking area but no showers.  The campsite is next to a sports ground so we have lots of teenagers walking across the campsite, all very polite & well behaved. 

Dave is already at the campsite having followed the same route so we swap impressions and talk about plans for the next few weeks.  It's a warm sunny evening so I wash my shorts and socks before cooking pasta & tuna with a tomato & harissa sauce. Later on as it becomes colder I lie in the tent and listen to the World Service before going to sleep. 

Wednesday 3^rd July – 59Km

Up at 7:00, it’s still dry but overcast. Breakfast is muesli, coffee, bread and jam. Dave isn’t sure where he wants to go so I leave without him at 9:00. I head out of Grindavik going east on road 427. 

Smooth tarmac quickly gives way to a nightmare 12% climb on a surface of very loose, coarse gravel over a bed of hardpack. My rear wheel starts spinning, half way up I get off before I fall off and start to push. My shoes won’t grip either… there are good views back to Grindavik as compensation.

The road levels off and the surface improves. Going down the other side is fast and loose, scary stuff but it would be worse going the other way. 

I carry on along the coast, riding between weird lava formations called hoodoes. There is very little traffic but everything leaves a cloud of dust. The road is still loose gravel, twice my rear wheel skids sideways and I fall, bruising my left side. 

There are thousands of wildflowers at the side of the road, growing between the rocks, I wish I could identify them but botany is a big gap in my knowledge. A guidebook would be useful but I’d have had to leave it behind anyway. 

At the junction with F428 I stop for some bread and cheese and then head inland to the geothermal area at Krysuvik. On the right hand side of the road is a double hole filled with gloopy grey mud, steaming and bubbling away. I don’t think it would do much for your complexion if you fell in. On the left hand side of the road wooden walkways lead between rocks encrusted with multicoloured salts, gas vents and more pools of gloopy mud. The air smells like one of Satans farts and the signs say you are here at your own risk. 

I carry on to the lake at Kleifarvatn before turning back towards the coast. The first 10K of F42 is smooth tarmac, it’s now sunny and I’ve got a tailwind. Bliss ! 

This doesn’t last long and I’m soon back on the loose, scrabbly stuff. It’s still sunny however and there are good views. 

I reach Strandarkirkja where there is a campsite. I have a coffee in the café; the old lady running the place doesn’t speak much English but gives me some leaflets about the nearby church. There has been a church here since approx 1200 AD; the original was dedicated to the memory of Thomas Becket after his murder at Canterbury in 1170, the current building dates to the early 20^th century. 

The campsite is soft and flat. After a shower (in the café) I cook cheese and rice soup, not one of my more memorable creations… 

I walk down to the church, a small white building of corrugated iron, overlooking the sea. It’s very peaceful in the evening sunshine. Walking back I’m dive-bombed by Arctic Terns again. Bed at 10:00. 

Thursday 4^th July – 79Km

Up to another warm sunny day and dry shorts. The tent is uncomfortably warm so it’s breakfast on the grass before leaving at 9:00. Back on the road I pull in to let an oncoming car past and the driver stops for a chat. He speaks good English and has been to England several times, both as a sailor and a tourist. He points out some of the mountains and names them for me as well as suggesting a few places to visit. 

A little further on the gravel road ends and I’m onto Route 1, the hringhraut with smooth tarmac and fast drivers. I pass through the town of Hveragerdi (Hot Springs Garden) and head East. At Selfoss I buy bread, ham, tomatoes and orange juice and have lunch on the banks of the beautiful river Olfusa. As I’m eating an Icelandic man with two small children sits down for a talk, again he speaks excellent English, the only problem is my pronunciation of Icelandic place names. 

Leaving Selfoss it’s very hot and I’m being pebbledashed with small stones by the busy traffic. To my left I can see Hekla and Tindfjalljokull whilst out to sea on my right are the Westmann Islands, unfortunately it’s too hazy to get any decent photo’s. 

I reach Hella at 5:00 and pay 600Kr for the well-equipped campsite. There are several other cyclists here as well. After a shower I go o the nearby supermarket to get some food. Icelandic supermarkets don’t seem to sell small packs of meat. It all seems to be big multipacks, which are no good if you’re on your own or in a small group.  I end up buying two burgers and have them with cous-cous and tomatoes. 

Later on I discover that the big packs of meat are due to the Icelanders love of barbecues, given any chance they will cook outdoors.  Tonight’s effort produces huge clouds of smoke, which engulf the clothes I’d hung up to dry and give them a distinctive flavour. 

I lie in the tent listening to the locals getting drunk while I look at the map, I’ve been advised by the guidebook and the two locals I’d met earlier in the day not to go to Torsmork this weekend as it’s a national holiday and things get a little bit riotous… 

Friday 5^th July – 53Km

I wake up late and with a headache. It’s a cold grey morning and the tent is damp with condensation. That’s what you get for putting a campsite next to a river. 

I don’t start until 10:00 and by 11:10 I’ve only done 8Km. There is a strong wind in my face and it stays there all day.  It starts to drizzle so I put my yellow Gore-Tex jacket on for half an hour until it stops and I can take it off, when of course it promptly starts again.. 

Out to sea I can see the Westmann Isles through the mist but to my left there is just the occasional glimpse of mountain. The glacier Eyjafjallajokull is hidden in cloud. 

The rain gets heavier so my overtrousers and a waterproof balaclava go on as well. It’s not torrential rain, or wind driven rain but it’s still cold and wet! 

Traffic is much heavier today; the road is busy with campervans and trailer tents, people getting away early for the holiday weekend. Most of the vehicles give me a wide berth as they pass, lots of people wave at me, looking snug (smug?) and dry. 

My chain is squeaking and I’m feeling tired, I give up the idea of reaching Skogar today and turn inland, riding on a dirt road up a valley to the campsite at Seljavellir. 

This is a quiet family campsite with an outdoor pool and hot tub in which I swim and soak in the light drizzle.  The clouds lift for a while allowing me to see some of the surrounding hills but the glacier is still invisible. 

I cook tuna and rice in the tent doorway; the campsite is starting to fill up with several groups of cars arriving together. If it wasn’t so damp I think things would be quite festive and noisy so I’m glad of the heavier rain, which starts at 10:30. I want to sleep! 

Saturday 6^th July – 48km

I wake up at 7:30 but it’s raining so I roll over and go back to sleep for a while. After coffee, muesli and a quick oil of the chain I’m away at 11:45! 

It’s still cold, windy and damp but not as bad as yesterday. There is not much to look at though beyond the farms singling at the foot of the mountains. At one farm some of the outbuildings seem to be built into the cliffs themselves. 

When I reach Skogar I’m glad I didn’t make it last night. There must be over a thousand people at the campsite. Most of them seem to be drunk and there is a definite party atmosphere despite the cold and rain. Now I know where all yesterdays’ traffic was going!  A short ride past the campsite is Skogafoss, an impressive 60m waterfall. You can’t go near it without full waterproofs unless you don’t mind being soaked in spray. Luckily I’m dressed for the occasion.. 

A few Km down the road I cross the bridge over the sulphurous Jokulsa river and then follow a dirt road inland to the snout of the Solheimajokull glacier, a long tongue of ice sticking out of the face of Mydalsjokull. It’s too misty to see anything but dirty grey ice though so I quickly turn around and go back the way I came. 

Just before the town of Vik the road goes up for a bit and then drops down in a 10% slope, it’s not as much fun as it should be though as I can see the even steeper climb out of the valley ahead! 

A long 12% gradient and then it’s down to Vik, officially the wettest place on Iceland. I put the tent up and pay for the campsite, 400Kr plus 200Kr for a shower. There’s a good indoor kitchen area but the wash block is a bit grim. 

In need of food I head for the supermarket, which is closed. There are no other shops so I walk down to the much-photographed sea-stacks of Reynisdrangur and then walk back along the black sand beach. 

At the campsite I meet Martin and Richard, two Swedish cyclists who’ve been following the same route as me. They have ridden from Hella today, I must try to make earlier starts! 

My food stocks are a bit low so it’s just pasta and cheese cooked in the kitchen. I manage to make a mess of one of the pans and leave the communal scouring pad clogged with cheese. 

I give the bike a check and tighten all the nuts then phone home. Unfortunately I forget about the hour time difference and wake them up! 

Sunday 7^th July – 71Km

Another late start as I wait for the supermarket to open at 11:00. I stock up with pasta, sliced ham, tinned tuna and multipacks of Snickers (vital!) 

Back onto Route 1 crossing Myrdalssandur, sandur are immense plains of sand and gravel, washed down from the mountains and glaciers. They are flat, bleak and very exposed. I’m relieved to see that the lights warning of imminent sandstorms are unlit. 

The road is straight and flat, a raised black ribbon running across a plain of black sand, which has been planted with scrub grass and plants in an attempt to stabilise it. 

With the wind against me I’m not able to go any faster than 10Kmph, the two Swedes from the campsite overtake me. They shout at me to slipstream them but I can’t match their pace and drop off the back. 

After 2 hours riding I stop for a lump of cheese, a Snickers bar and some water before carrying on. On my left I can just make out the dirty white of a glacier through the mist. On my right there is nothing but flat black sand stretching to the horizon. 

The road swings inland and I pass the turnoff for Hrifunes with a campsite only 7Km away. This road would lead to the F206 track to  Fjallbak and Landmannalaugar, an area I would like to visit but I’ve read that the track is very hard to ride (it basically follows the riverbed) so I carry on the way I’m going. 

The terrain changes, I’m now on the Eldhraun. There are twisted lava formations covered in grey-green lichen on either side of the road, it’s like riding through a giant petri dish of mould. 

A little further on I come to an area covered with cairns of every size, shape and description. A noticeboard says that the farmhouse on this spot was destroyed by an eruption of Katla and that it’s traditional to add a stone to a cairn to wish the spirits good luck. I add my stone and ride on. 

At 7:30 I reach Kirkjubaejarklauster and put the tent up at the bigger of the two campsites. (The small one is quieter and prettier but has no showers).  Richard and Martin are already here, they arrived at 5:00 and have been swimming in the town pool. 

I have a shower and cook rice and ham with a tomato and harissa sauce before going to sleep. 

Monday 8^th July – 69Km

Up at 7:30 but not on the road until 10:00. The weather is much better, blue sky with a little cloud-cover and a light breeze. I need to put some sun block on for the first time! 

The cycling is more of the same, today I’m crossing the Skeidararsandur, but with no headwind the riding is much easier and I fly across. To my right is the dark flat of the sandur but inland and ahead there are mountains and glaciers, today I’m cycling with a view! 

A small dot on the road ahead becomes another cyclist, a lone English girl going around the ring road clockwise (why are all the female cycle tourists always going in a different direction to me?) 

I pull off the main road and go inland on a track which takes me to the moraine dam at the snout of the Skeidararjokull glacier where I have lunch. 

Back to the road and I’m riding along when I hear some very bad singing behind me, “God Save the Queen” in a Swedish accent! It’s Richard and Martin who quickly overtake me (they’re at least 15years younger!) and vanish into the distance. 

I cross a long new bridge over the ***** river and shortly afterwards come to a notice board with details and pictures of the 1996 Jokulhlaup, a massive flood caused by a volcanic eruption under the glacier. There are several twisted metal girders lying around. Parts of the old bridge that was destroyed by the flood. 

The campsite at Skaftafell is beautifully situated and busy. There seem to be several tour groups here, at least one of them English. The shower block is a little bit small for the size of the site. 

I put the tent up, have a shower and then do some washing before cooking up another Michelin starred meal, frankfurters and couscous with tomato and harissa sauce. 

After eating I walk up the valley to the waterfalls Hundfoss and Svartifoss. Svartifoss is a long, narrow plume of water falling between columns of black basalt. In order to get the best camera angle I take my sandals off and wade into the cold water up to my knees. 

I walk back to the campsite in the evening light and then decide to follow the path to the foot of the Skaftafellsjokull glacier. Someone has found a perfectly oval rock and positioned it upright at the side of the track. It looks exactly like one of the eggs from “Alien” 

The glacier is a mass of gray, dirty ice, covered with rocks. It’s separated from the moraine dam by a narrow river and you can feel the cold air coming off it.  There isn’t enough light for decent pictures so I’ll need to come back in the morning. 

I’m tired and want to get some sleep. The people camped alongside me aren’t tired and want to play football. 24-hour daylight has its

problems… 

Tuesday 9^th July – 89Km 

Up at 8:00, it’s too warm in the tent again. A fairly nice day, light winds with broken cloud cover. 

I have a quick breakfast, say goodbye to Richard and Martin and then ride along the path to the foot of the glacier for some photos before heading back to the road. 

By 12:00 I’ve only covered 20Km, the wind has picked up and I’m feeling tired. I stop at a life saving garage and buy some chocolate milk and Snickers, which I eat on the spot and bread and cheese for later. Fresh loaves are hard to find so I’m buying small packs of sliced rye bread, dense, chewy and doesn’t seem to go stale. 

An hour later I pull into a parking area below the Kviarjokull glacier and have lunch. It’s cold so I need to put my fleece on. There are some large brown birds quartering the area, I dig my binoculars out and tentatively identify them as Great Skuas. 

Back on the road and I’m now crossing Breidamerkursandur, the wind is stronger now so I’m just grinding along, ducking the occasional dive-bombing Skua, the flatlands at the side of the road seem to be a nesting area. 

At 4:00 I reach the famous glacial lake Jokulsarlon. I leave the bike at the side of the road and walk down to the lakeside. It’s full of mini icebergs, all colours from dirty white to toothpaste green. I can feel the cold air coming off the water and hear the creaks and groans of the bergs breaking up. A boat from the visitors centre is an orange highlight in the middle of the lake. 

Walking back to the bike I encounter two Skuas on the ground. I take some photos and get a good picture as one of them flexes it’s wings and takes off. Thankfully it flies away from me… 

I cross a road bridge and pull into the visitors centre at the head of the lake, where I have a couple of coffee’s and put some sunscreen on. 

The wind has died down a bit and there are lovely views ahead to Hofn, I’m still tired though and don’t think I’ll be able to reach it tonight. Lonely Planet tells me that there is an outdoor centre at Hrollaugsstadir where I pay 600 Kr to put my tent up and use their washroom. 

I eat and then lie in the tent listening to the radio and writing postcards. 

Wednesday 10^th July – 51Km

Away by 9:30, it’s a gray, overcast day with light rain. There is a fresh wind in my face, just for a change… 

I’ve packed my watch in one of the panniers so I’ve no way to keep track of time but when I come to the river Kolgrima and check how little progress I’ve made on the map my heart sinks. 

The wind grows stronger and I’m on the bottom ring crossing the area called Myrar. Halfway across I meet a German cyclist called Christina, who has ridden from Hofn. We have a chat and compare routes, she has been much more ambitious than me and took some very rough inland tracks to Landmannalaugar and has also been across the Kjolur route. She’s now heading for Keflavik to return home. 

Her front rack snapped in the interior and she has half of her kit in a huge stuff sack across the rear panniers.  She warns me that there are a lot of bad roadworks on the coastal road beyond Hofn. 

We say goodbye and immediately afterwards I find out what she means, the road is being resurfaced. They’ve lain deep, golf ball sized hard pack and not yet tarmacced it. I end up walking for about 500M. 

The wind gets worse, I’m only making about 4Kmph. The map shows a service station but I can’t find it. No hot coffee…. 

I’m now crossing the estuary of the river Hornafjordurfllot and the wind is hitting me from the side. I have to lean the bike at a 30-degree angle to compensate and each time a car goes past my “air-cushion” disappears and I nearly fall off. 

One wriggling dot in the distance becomes two French (?) cyclists coming the other way. We say hello and they cheer me up by telling me that the road out of Hofn is a 16% gravel track. 

A short while after I use a field full of Icelandic ponies as a reason for another rest. Always carry a camera when cycling, it gives you an excuse to stop! 

As the road swings south I get out of the wind and eat some of the bread and cheese I bought earlier before heading into Hofn with the wind behind me. Just before the village itself I stop at another garage and buy a litre of T-Rod alcohol fuel for my Trangia stove. I still have enough left from my first bottle for a few more days but it doesn’t seem that common so I’ll fill my bottle up and leave the rest for anyone who needs it. 

At the campsite I recognize Richard and Martins bikes and tent and am pleased to meet my friends again. They left Skaftafell at 8:00 PM the previous night and reached Hofn at 4:00 AM.  Total Lunatics! 

The campsite is also the bus station and has an information desk, common room, covered kitchen area and Internet access. It costs 600Kr plus 100Kr for a shower. 

I put the tent up, shower and then cook tuna and rice. In the kitchen area I talk to a couple from Yorkshire who had had trouble with wind blown sand when driving across the main Sandur. I’m very glad the weather wasn’t that bad when I was on it. They tell me that the Toyota they’ve hired is costing approximately £700 (1100 euros or $1110) for 2 weeks, cycling is cheaper! 

It starts raining and carries on all night. 

Thursday 11^th July – 103Km 

Up at 8:00 but I don’t get away until 11:00. The wind has dropped and it’s stopped raining. There is blue sky over Vatnajokull. 

The route out of Hofn is supposedly the steepest part of the ring road with a 16% gradient and a good hard packed surface. I stop several times for a breather on the way up but don’t resort to pushing. Several cars and coaches go past with people waving to me, I try to wave back without falling off. 

At the top is a small parking area with superb views of the Eystrahorn and back along the coast to Hofn. Some of the people, who waved to me on the way up clap as I dismount, sweat dripping from every pore. 

The reward for all that effort is a fast freewheel down the other side, fortunately the road surface stays OK. 

As I ride over the flat area called Lon the sun is shining and there are lovely views ahead and behind. At approx 2:00 I stop for lunch at the end of Lonsvik, looking back at the Vestrahorn which looks like a jagged mountain throne or a wizards tower from Tolkien. 

As I eat a bank of fog rolls in from the sea, giving me some good photos of the Vestrahorn poking out of a cloudy blanket. 20 minutes later I’m pedaling along with about 10M visibility and no lights. Luckily there is very little traffic… 

The road becomes a gentle switchback; this coupled with the lack of a headwind makes the riding much easier. My legs and backside aren’t aching as much as they have been over the last week. Flat roads are not ideal for cycling; you sit in the same position and use the same muscles all the time. A rolling road lets you move around in the saddle a bit. 

There is one further section of unmetalled road but it’s quite a good surface. I reach Djupivogur at approx 7:30. Richard and Martin are already there, as are a French couple that has been turning up at the same campsites as us since Vik. They’re traveling by bus each day. 

The campsite is small and fairly basic but there are hot showers. There is also nobody to collect the money and as it’s now raining I’m not about to go and find them! 

Friday 12^th July – 85Km 

I wake up to the sound of heavy rain so I lie in my bag hoping it will stop. It doesn’t, so I have breakfast and pack undercover before getting into full waterproofs. Jacket, trousers, hat, overshoes and gloves. Normally once I’ve put all of this on the weather instantly improves, this time however the trick fails. 

There is still nobody at the site to collect the money so I get ready to leave. Richard and Martin are having a lie in so I’ll see them in one of the towns between here and Egilsstadir, all of which are supposed to have campsites. 

The rain continues as I leave Djupivogur and cycle up Berufjordur. I can’t see much due to the low cloud so concentrate on the smaller picture. Ducks and ducklings in the fjord and plants at the side of the road. 

At the head of the fjord is a road junction with a sign showing two different ways to Egilsstadir. One route is 66Km and the other is 128Km.  I check the map and see that the longer route hugs the coast whilst the shorter route goes over the Oxi pass and then follows a road inland. The road over Oxi is marked 4-wheel drive only but I see several ordinary cars coming down it so it can’t be too difficult. 

The track is very steep in parts, a sign says 17% but it goes up in zig zags and has a good hard packed surface. I’m passed by several cars going in both directions, again the occupant’s wave at me. The route is obviously a well-used short cut. 

Midway up is a pretty waterfall so I stop for a rest and take some pictures of this and the valley below me. At the head of the pass it’s cold, dark and foggy. The vegetation is low and stunted, sub-arctic tundra. 

I put my helmet on, check the brakes and head down. This side of the pass is more or less straight and not as steep as the other side. It’s a long, fast, bumpy descent. Great fun!

The surface is wet and slippery so I’m careful not to brake too hard. This is not a place to have an accident. 

Eventually the track joins up with the main road, which is very badly rutted and potholed. The surface is actually far worse than the track and I have to slalom between water filled holes in the tarmac. 

At 5:00 I stop to have some lunch and am munching a Snickers when Richard and Martin turn up. They couldn’t resist the short cut either and have been following my tyre-tracks. 

We carry on down the valley together and eventually reach Egilsstadir. 

My bike has full length mudguards (fenders) but the two Swedes only have bolt-on crud-catchers. I’m quite muddy but they are brown from head to toe and their bikes have gained a few kilos in weight.

We pull into a service station and use the free hoses and brushes provided to clean ourselves up. All Icelandic service stations have these and they’re quite handy. 

The campsite is large and next to a big supermarket, however it’s very poorly drained and there are pools of standing water everywhere. 

I find a patch that is slightly less squelchy than the surrounding area and put the tent up. It’s still wet from last night. 

Shop, eat, shower, oil chain, bed. Ominously my right leg is hurting a bit although I can’t recall doing anything to it. 

Saturday 13^th July – 77Km 

It’s raining heavily again when I wake up so I stay in my bag until it stops at 10:00. With 24-hour daylight the normal time constraints don’t really apply. 

I’m planning on heading into the desert towards Askja so I visit the supermarket to get some more stuff. I’m carrying food for 5 days and water for 2.

Richard and Martin are carrying on around the coast so I say goodbye and leave the campsite at 12:00. As I’m pulling onto the road I meet another English cyclist. We have a quick chat; he’s planning to go over the pass I came across yesterday so I tell him what the road conditions are like.

I follow Route 1 out of Egilsstadir and it climbs gently for 18Km. It’s cold but dry so I put my windproof top on. At the junction I turn west into Jokuldalur and take road 924 following the left bank of the Jokulsa a Dal river upstream. 

The valley is fairly wide with the gray, silt-laden river in a deep channel down the middle. Route 1 continues along the right bank but I can see the yellow shapes of bulldozers working on the road and slowing the traffic. 

The surface on this side is good and I’m making good progress in spite of the wind. At Hjaroarhagi the road crosses the river and rejoins Route 1. It’s still grey and cloudy. 

At 5:00 I stop for lunch and it begins to spot with rain, waterproofs on again. The road then climbs uphill and my route branches off to the left towards Bru. The valley sides are steeper now and I’m higher above the river.  There are occasional small farms along the valley. 

It’s stopped raining but it’s still cold and windy so I keep the waterproofs on. The wind is dangerously strong. It’s gusting from my left and several times blows me off the edge of the road. I stop to take a picture and have to fight to hold the camera steady, the lens cap goes flying away into a ditch and I have to climb down to recover it. 

At 8:00 I’ve had enough, a few Km before Eiriksstadir I find a flat patch of ground away from the road and put the tent up. There is a stream a short distance away so I’ve plenty of drinking water. 

I cook 2 packets of chicken chilli noodles and then listen to the BBC World Service on my short-wave radio. Afterwards I read my guidebook, which informs me that this stretch of the road is haunted by evil goblins! 

My right leg is hurting again and the shin is red and swollen, I take some more Ibuprofen and also rub some anti-inflammatory gel on it. 

The wind picks up and it starts to rain again. I hope tomorrow is better for Askja. 

Sunday 14^th July – 60Km 

I’m up fairly early, it’s stopped raining but is still windy, and there is a pleasant blue sky. 

On the road by 9:00, I know that this going to be a hard day, mostly on dirt roads and crossing several valleys and watercourses. 

I reach Bru at 10:00 and begin to climb onto the F910. The road surface is loose and scrabbly, a strong side wind catches me and nearly blows me over. 

The first part of the road is through coarse grassland but this fades until the road is just an indistinct line across gently rolling hills of rock, sand and gravel. Colours vary from desert tan to dirty black. At times it’s like riding through a car park, the land to either side looks like flat tarmac! 

The road is a patchwork of every surface imaginable, good hardpack, loose fine gravel, potato sized rocks and sand. The tyres handle everything well, apart from the sand in which I fall a few times. 

At 12:00 I encounter my first ford, fortunately it’s only mid calf deep so I put my sandals on and wheel the bike across. An hour later I come to another one. The water here is over my knees so I carry the bike over first and then come back for the panniers. The water is cold but it makes my sore leg feel better. 

There is quite a lot of traffic, I’m seeing a 4wd every 20 minutes or so and the occasional tour bus.  The occupants all wave at me, I’m not sure if it’s admiration or pity.  At least if I have a bad fall or a mechanical there will be someone to scrape me up. 

The mountain Heroubreid rears over the horizon and I’m heading straight towards it. I hear a creaking sound from the back wheel and stop to check. The constant vibration has shaken the rear mudguard loose and also caused my pump to jump its mountings and rub against the spokes. Fortunately nothing is damaged so I re-attach everything and carry on. 

I reach the area known as the Kreppa and cross the bridge over the river Jokulsa A Fjollum which is swollen and dirty grey with silt. There are large black rocks like cinders on either side of the road. 

A slight navigational faux-pas leads me to think that the mountain blocking my path is actually Askja but I then recheck and realise that it’s Upptypingpyar and that I have to ride around it. 

The road is covered with patches of black sand, this is impossible to ride on, my tyres sink in and I fall off. 

It’s now about 8:00, I’m tired and my leg is still hurting. I’m not going to make it to the hut and campsite at Dreki today so I find a flat spot away from the track and pitch the tent. The ground is coarse pumice on top of sand; I have to place the pegs very carefully.  I don’t think they’d stand a strong wind. 

Unpacking I find the contents of one pannier are wet. At first I think it must have been one of the river crossings but then realise that my bottle of contact lens fluid has leaked and I’ve none left. Disaster! I hate riding in spectacles. 

It’s incredibly quiet but very cold. Even with a fleece on I’m shivering violently, so I cook and eat quickly before getting into my warm sleeping bag. 

Monday 15^th July – 35Km 

A good nights sleep. I wake up to a tent covered in a fine layer of sand. Breakfast is bread, jam and grit. 

It’s warm and overcast with no wind 

On the road by 10:00, at 10:30 a 4wd appears and the driver stops for a chat. I confirm my position on the map, about 10Km from the turning for Dreki and Askja. 

It’s very difficult to ride on the road; there are frequent patches of black volcanic sand. The wheels just sink into this and I slowly topple sideways. I end up pushing or even dragging the bike for most of the time. 

A few cars go past covering me in dust and then an old Zundapp sidecar combination. At 12:00 I reach the junction and then ride, fall,walk,push to the second bridge over the Jokulsa a Fjollum which does not look like a nice river to swim in 

Pushing on through the desert with twisted rocks all around and dust devils on the horizon I’m reminded of Dune, thankfully there are no Sandworms in sight. At one point I pass an area of smooth sand with rocks sticking out at random intervals, like someone had planted a Zen garden in the desert. 

My leg is becoming more painful, I’m limping now, and it hurts more to walk than it does to pedal. 

At 4:00 I reach another junction. I can go left to Dreki at the foot of Askja or go right to the campsite at Heroubreidarlindir. I decide to go left; fortunately the road is mostly rideable now. 

I’m very tired when I reach the site at Dreki, a few huts and a lot of tents, all pitched on coarse gravel and pumice and with the pegs weighed down with big rocks. Drekagil means “Dragon Canyon” and the twisted, contorted rocks leading into the mountain look a suitable lair… 

There are several groups here from one of the Icelandic walking clubs, a few people on motorbikes and one pair of cyclists from Germany who came the same way as me. I noticed their tyre tracks and footmarks earlier in the day. 

I pitch my tent and then go to find the warden and pay. I ask the warden what time the tour buses get here in the morning. She says I’ll have no problem getting a ride to Myvatn. 

In the toilet block I look at myself in the mirror, red eyed, unshaven and encrusted with black sand. Not a pretty sight, even by my standards. 

The skin on my fingers has split in several places making it painful to curl my hands and hold things. 

Back in the tent I put my fingers on the inflamed area above my ankle and move my foot around. I can feel and hear the tendons creaking! 

I think I need some rest…

Tuesday 16^th July – 123 Km (by coach!) 

I’m up at 8:00; I make breakfast and then put the tent away hoping to catch the tour bus at 10:00. My leg is sore and stiff and I want to give it a good rest. 

It’s cold and windy, with low grey cloud obscuring Askja. Too stay warm I walk halfway up Drekagil which is a narrow, twisting canyon with a stream running through it and a loose, steep path winding alongside. I get about halfway up then decide it’s time to go back. 

The coach seems to be late so I check with the warden who tells me I’ve got the times wrong. It will be here at 12:00, so I’ve another 2 hours to kill. I chat for a while to the warden and her friends, she also enjoys cycling but prefers to do it in Spain rather than Iceland! 

Eventually the coach arrives and I jump on. The narrow track winds uphill for 8Km through piles of fantastically twisted black lava. At the parking area we follow the guide for a kilometre over cinders, snow and finally dense, chocolate-pudding like mud to reach the crater Viti. 

The water is milky turquoise and steams slightly, most of the crater wall is steep and banded with colours but in one place the angle is shallower and people slide down the steep muddy path to the water. No one goes swimming today though. 

I follow the lip of the crater and then limp down another muddy slope to the main lake, Oskjuvatn. It’s still very cloudy and I can barely make out the shape of the lake through the mist. I take some photographs anyway and am about to rejoin the others when the cloud lifts and I can see the entire lake, a beautiful steely blue reflecting the rock and snow around it. I take another set of photos then rejoin the rest of the group as we trek back to the bus and are driven down to Drekigil. 

After the entire group walks up to the waterfall at the head of the canyon I load my bike and kit onto the bus and we set off, first down to the junction I reached yesterday and then onto F88 to Myvatn. 

The road looks like it would be an easy, if long ride. Mostly flat with a good surface, the driver has fun with some of the tight turns through the lava fields though. 

We stop for 15 minutes at Herdubreidarlindir, an oasis in the desert caused by springs flowing from beneath the lava fields. This is an absolutely beautiful spot, a short distance from Herdubreid, green grass, flowers and low shrubs with mountains visible across the plain through the clean air. I run out of film and the rest of my stock is in the hold of the bus! 

Another group of German cyclists get onto the bus here, they have thigh length fishing waders strapped to their panniers, and I’d thought I was worried about crossing rivers! 

As the road twists through the Odadahraun lava field the guide amuses us by telling us her litle sons favourite story “Bukolla the Magic Cow”. 

The coach plunges into the ford across the Lindaa, which looks both wider and deeper than the rivers I crossed the other day. 

We approach Myvatn and the town Reykjahlid by driving through some steaming geothermal areas. I unload my bike, talk to the Germans from the bus for a bit and then trundle off to the Elda campsite next to the lakeside. 

As I’m starting to put my tent up a Dutch guy called Roof comes over and asks if I want some food! He explains that he also rides a bike and knows how hungry it makes you. I shamefacedly explain about the bus but the offer stands, so I eat bratwurst and fried potatoes whilst talking to Roof and his wife. They’re touring around by car, nice people. Thanks to both of you! 

I finish putting the tent up and then queue for a shower. This is a largish campsite and the shower block is far too small. There is nothing wrong with the temperature of the water though: Note – when Icelandic taps are marked “Careful – Hot Water” they mean it! 

Clean shaven, washed and smelling slightly of sulphur I go to the nearby supermarket to buy some Ibuprofen only to find that Icelandic supermarkets do not sell any drugs. The supermarket itself is fairly small and for some reason only sells milk (nymjolk) in 2 litre cartons. 

At the campsite office I ask where the nearest pharmacy is only to be told it’s in Husavik, 53Km away, however there is a health centre in the village and I may be able to get some drugs from the nurse there tomorrow. 

Wednesday 17^th July – rest day 0Km 

For once I don’t feel guilty about staying in bed late, I’m having an official rest day! 

When I eventually get up my Dutch friends from last night have gone. I have breakfast and then laze around in the tent listening to the BBC World Service. The weather is dull and overcast with a cold wind and occasional light rain. 

At 1:00 I limp over to the medical centre where the nurse/practitioner examines my ankle and leg before diagnosing Tendonitis. She advises me to rest for several days and gives me some more Ibuprofen and a steroid based anti-inflammatory cream to rub on my leg. 

As I’ve forgotten to bring my form E111 she charges me for the drugs but not her time.  It’s probably easier to pay than to fill out the forms for such a small amount anyway. 

I do some of my washing and hang it up to dry in the covered area provided. This is a big campsite and there are several organised tour groups there taking over half the site. 

The lake is called Myvatn, which means “Midge Water” and there are a lot of them around. Unlike their Scottish cousins (shudder!) these don’t bite but as they are attracted to carbon dioxide they swarm around your mouth and nose all the time. 

The German cyclists who were at Dreki turn up; they camped overnight at the side of the road in the desert. 

At 7:30 I go to the Gamli Baerinn, a local restaurant, which featured in several peoples trip, reports and is also recommended in “Lonely Planet”.  It’s a friendly, welcoming place and they need to get an extra table for me, as they’re full.  The food I had was not exceptional; the daily special of pan-fried sole was straight out of a packet as were the chips. 2 large beers were 620Kr each! (£4.64 / $7.22 / 7.26 Euros) 

Back at the campsite I find that my Swedish friends Richard and Martin have arrived. They followed the road around the coast to Husavik and have come on a coach via Dettifoss. I chat with Martin for a while then take my medicine and go to bed. 

Thursday 18^th July – 0Km 

I crawl out of my pit at 10:00; it’s dull and overcast again. My leg seems a little better; I’m not limping anymore. 

Richard and Martin leave heading towards Akureyri, I give them a wave. This is the last time I see them. 

After breakfast I do some more washing and listen to the radio. Bored with this I then buy a lot of postcards and spend some time talking to the girl in the shop who try’s to persuade me to go on a coach trip while I’m resting my leg 

I write some postcards then stroll up to the local pool for a swim and soak in the outdoor hot tub, hoping that this will ease my leg. 

Afterwards as the weather improves I go for a walk around Myvatn, I follow a long fissure with several ladders leading down to hot springs at the bottom. I don’t go down. The track leads between twisted blocks of lava with the crater Hverfell on the horizon. This is a tephra ring, an almost perfect cone shape with a crater at the apex made up of ejecta from an eruption. 

Someone else is following the same route as me. RonHill Tracksters, an ME Ultrafleece jacket, sandals and a CCS camera case. Exactly what I’m wearing! It’s a good thing we aren’t at a party! 

I wander back to the campsite and cook pasta with bacon, egg and mushrooms then give the bike a check and oil the chain 

A final walk to the top of the hill next to the campsite and then its bedtime. 

Friday 19^th July 44 Km 

Up at 8:30, not the best nights sleep. A snorer and some voluble Germans. 

I pack all my gear onto the bike, pit my painkillers in the bar-bag and head off. 

First stop is Hverarond, a large geothermal area with multicoloured earth, hissing steam vents and bubbling mud pools. The air is hot and damp with a pervading smell of sulphur. 

Then it’s off the main road to another geothermal area at Krafla. The road is a pig; it’s just been resurfaced with coarse gravel chippings, very difficult to ride on, especially when the last bit is a 12% slope. 

Krafla is worth it though and I spend almost 2 hours wandering around the twisted lave flows, steam vents and mineral deposits. There are a lot of signs telling you that you are here at your own risk and to keep to the marked areas. A walk on some of the ground around here could leave you with more than scorched feet! 

I climb the natural crater Viti and look at the view from the top. There is another crater called Sjafskapar Viti which means “Homemade Hell”, when they were drilling boreholes for the nearby geothermal power station they hit a steam vent. The resulting explosion blew bits of the drilling rig up to 3Km away. 

Back down the 12% gravel slope again, horribly loose and scary and then it’s back onto firm tarmac all the way to the turnoff for Dettifoss. 

The Dettifoss track is quite rough although not as bad as I’d been warned. Washboard and loose gravel but no sand. 

A creaking noise on the bike turns out to be my right pedal, I’ve got spare grease but have no way of dismantling it to get at the bearings 

Just before Dettifoss another cyclist catches up with me, he’s German and has been to Landmanalaugar and Modrudalar. 

Dettiffoss is brutally impressive; at 400 cubic metres of water per second it’s the most powerful waterfall in Europe. You can hear it well before you see it, and then you see it. Foaming grey water plunging over the falls and being cast back up as spray, soaking everything 

My leg has been OK on the bike but I’m limping as I walk around taking photos, stepping across the safety rope and gazing into the abyss. 

Further up the canyon is Selfoss, a smaller and prettier waterfall. I sit and look at this for a while and then go back to the bike. 

There is a small campsite near the car park, beaten earth and 2 big plastic jerri-cans as a water supply. Toilets are in the car park itself, clean and with paper, not bad for free! 

As I’m cooking my evening meal my hands are trembling, it’s not that cold so it must be a result of riding on the washboard earlier.  

Saturday 20^th July – 109Km 

Up early, it’s a nice day. Blue sky with light cloud cover. 

I’m away by 9:15 and back on the track heading north. A few Km from the campsite I pull off the main track and follow another track to Holmatungur. This a widening of the main valley filled with low trees and wildflowers. It’s very beautiful and would have been a nicer campsite than last night. Camping isn’t allowed but that hasn’t stopped the people who are there! 

Back to the track and it’s now heading downhill towards the coast. I’m building up some good speed but the surface is very bad and I’m being shaken to bits. The front end of the bike starts to feel a bit funny so I stop to check it. The vibration has loosened the mounting of my bar-bag and the bag has slipped down, pressing on the front brake cable and applying the brake! Ten minutes with a screwdriver and I’m off again. 

I hit smooth tarmac and at 1:15 I’m at Asbyrgi, this is an amazing almost circular canyon, filled with trees and vegetation. 

Asbyrgi seems somewhere to walk around for a few hours but I don’t really want to spend that much time there so after a brief lunch stop I head off again. 

This time I’m on the coastal road heading west towards Husavik. It starts flat and then climbs steadily as it crosses a headland. At the tip of the Tjornes peninsula I stop and contemplate the Arctic Ocean. Grimsey is visible on the horizon, the Arctic Circle itself. 

I reach Husavik at 8:00; the campsite is run by Gunnar, who is laid back to the point of being horizontal. A nice guy and he keeps a nice campsite. 

I put my tent up and go shopping at the nearby service station. I’m running low on money so find a bank and put my ATM card in the machine. Disaster! I can’t remember my PIN; my mind is a total blank! 

Back to the campsite were I have the PIN for my backup ATM card written in a notebook then back to the bank. Success this time! 

On the way back I book a ticket for a Whale Watching trip tomorrow. 

I cook pasta with bacon and mushrooms in a spicy tomato sauce and spend some time talking to Franz, a Dutch teacher who is here on his fourth 7-week holiday. We get the maps out and compare routes; he’s been everywhere and seems to be ticking off the different interior routes one by one. 

Sunday 21^st July – 0Km 

Up early again as the tent is stifling. There is a lightly clouded sky so I do some more washing after breakfast. 

I walk into the village but the pharmacy is closed. I spend an hour in the Whale museum and information centre before returning to the campsite to listen to the radio. There are lots of annoying flies. 

Husavik used to be a whaling port but most of its tourist trade now is geared around Whale Watching trips. Mine is on the Knorrin, an old restored herring boat. There is a fleet of 3 small boats chugging into the middle of the fjord. The sea is very calm, just a gentle swell with no breaking waves. 

The first contact is with a school of White Beaked Dolphin; they have calves with them and run from the boats. Later we see a single dolphin repeatedly jumping out of the water but he’s too far away to photograph and vanishes when we chase him. 

A small school of Minke whales surround the boats and then head further out to sea leaving one of their number behind. This whale is very curious, circling and diving under our boat for 20 minutes and then just hanging in the water with one eye above the surface watching us. 

On the way back it starts to rain so I have a line of wet washing at the campsite. 

I laze around for a while and then go out for a meal at the Gamli Baukar, Arctic Char: 2 small fillets of fish, one small potato and a little bit of salad. I’m losing weight on this trip! 

Monday 22^nd July – 95Km 

It’s been raining all night with no breeze so I wake up to a damp tent. Rain outside, condensation inside. It’s grey and miserable with low cloud cover, which is how it stays all day. 

I have breakfast, pack and then go to the pharmacy to buy some Ibuprofen for my bad leg and some contact lens solution to replace the stuff I spilled in the highlands. 610 Kr for a 60ml bottle! 

Today is all on good, fast tarmac. It’s fairly warm with a light drizzle. I go south inland then turn west through a wide valley. 

Just before lunch I meet two more cyclists, one towing a trailer with an Austrian flag on the back. We say hello then I pass them. As I’m sitting down eating the usual rye bread, cheese and Snickers they pass again. 

The road climbs up into the clouds and it gets cold and wet. Gore Tex on. I can’t see more than about 20M ahead of me. I crest the pass and then it’s a long, fast downhill. My glasses are covered in rain and the shape of them seems to funnel the wind into my eyes, which fill with tears. I can’t see a thing and it’s not fun! Scary! 

At 5:30 I reach Akureyri, Icelands second largest city. The large campsite is noisy, full of Icelandic families in campervans and smells of barbecue fuel and burning food. 

I put the tent up and then get some more food in the adjacent supermarket. The evening meal is Bratwurst, beans and rice. I feel quite bloated so go for a quick spin around town on the bike. I also buy another litre of fuel for my stove. 

Back at the campsite I have a shower and then lie in the tent looking at my map, trying to decide which route to take back towards Keflavik. I want to do the Kjolur route through the interior but it doesn’t give me much of a safety margin for my flight home. 

Tuesday 23^rd July – 140 Km 

I’m up at 8:00 to a cloudy but dry morning. A quick breakfast and then I check the weather forecast in the wardens office and chat to a German cyclist for a bit. 

On the road by 9:30, I follow Route 1 out of town and then turn inland again for the long climb up Oxnadalur, a wide flat-bottomed valley with a meandering river. It looks like a good place for fishing and there are lots of people trying their luck. 

Low cloud hides the mountains to either side of me but there is a huge one poking its head through at the head of the valley. The map shows it as Grjotarhnjukur at 1237M. I’m glad I don’t need to climb that high, the road pass at 540M is enough for today. 

It’s a fairly easy climb, at the top I put my waterproofs, gloves and goggles on but the downhill is sedate, unlike yesterdays. 

At the bottom I see another cyclist coming down, it’s Marc, a Swiss cyclist who was also at the Akureyri site last night. We ride along talking about the usual stuff, routes, weather and plans until the wind becomes stronger and we just put our heads down, alternating the lead until Marc pulls away. 

At Varmahalid I stop at the service station cum supermarket cum café and stuffy myself with coffee and cake and then Skyr and Chocomilk! Carbo-loading for the ride ahead. 

Marc is there as well as some German cyclists whose bikes are loaded down with walking gear including Ice axes. I’m glad I’m not carrying that lot! Marc is camping here but the Germans are doing Kjolur and leave while I’m still stuffing my face. 

It’s now 5:30 as I leave Varmahalid and begin the long climb out of the valley. I hope I’m doing the right thing; Kjolur normally takes 2-3 days but can take longer in bad weather. If the timings look bad I may need to get a bus back to Keflavik. 

It’s now spitting with rain and there’s a cold, blustery wind. It’s also as dark as it’s ever been this trip. 

After some more up and a longish down I turn off the main road and begin the climb up Blondudalur. The road is unsurfaced at first and then changes to new tarmac near the power station then goes back to hardpack. 

I pass the first lake and se some tents there, presumably the Germans who were ahead of me. The ground looks a bit marshy so I press on and at 10:30 find a good pitch away from the road. 

Tent up, tuna and pasta and finish writing my diary at 12:10. 

Wednesday 24^th July - 67Km 

I wake up to a cold, grey morning. It starts to rain as I put the tent away so the waterproofs go on straight away. 

The road climbs steadily through high moorland with lots of small to medium sized lakes on either side. 

The first cyclists I meet are 2 Swiss travelling in the opposite direction to me. We have a chat and they give me the unpleasant news that a lot of the route has been resurfaced, local style. Lots of loose gravel just left for cars to compact. Not good to ride on! They also tell me that the weather forecast is for storms. Not good at all! 

I carry on and the weather seems to get brighter although there is a cold, blustery headwind. 

This seems to be a very popular cycle route; I meet several more groups of cyclists, all travelling South to North with a tailwind. 

Just past the large lake Blondulon I stop at a place called Afangli. This is a bunkhouse type place offering pony treks etc. More importantly they also do food. For a 500 Kr I get a jug of coffee and a plate of waffles with cream and jam. 

I can see the large glacier Hofsjokull on my left but not yet Langjokull. The mountain Kerlingarfjoll looms ahead on the horizon. 

As the Swiss cyclists said earlier the road becomes much worse. Loose potato sized rocks cover the road and I’m reduced to pushing, even on the flat, as it’s impossible to ride. 

A windsock in the middle of nowhere indicates a landing strip and I reach the turnoff for the campsite at Hveravellir. It’s still fairly early but I’ve seen no surface water or decent camping spots so decide to stay here and do the 98Km to Gulfoss in the morning 

Hveravellir has a couple of huts and a toilet block. There are also several hot springs. 

I put my tent up and spend some time talking to an English couple from Ross on Wye. They are touring with a BOB trailer and have found the road rougher than they expected. 

I cook pasta and bacon, as I’m eating the Germans who were at Varmahalid turn up. 

In lieu of a shower I soak in the hot pool with the English couple and a big party of Germans. The pool is fed by 2 big hoses, one delivering freezing water from the river, the other piping water at 80-100 degrees C from a natural spring. It takes some care to get the mixing right! 

It seems strange to have a glowing pink body while my head in cold from the drizzle. 

It starts to rain so I retreat to the tent. If the weather is very bad tomorrow I may consider getting the bus to Reykjavik. It stops at the campsite at 12:00. 

Thursday 25^th July – 98 Km 

There was heavy rain and strong wind all night. It’s still quite windy when I get up. I check the bus timetable again, the 13:00 bus would get me to Reykjavik by 18:00. 

I decide to ride and leave the campsite at 10:30. The track is not as bad as people have told me; either that or they are in for one hell of a shock later, as the road past Hveravellir is much worse! 

Low cloud means that there is nothing to see so I just put my head down and pedal into the wind. The land to either side of the track is barren sand and rock; it would not have been a comfortable place to camp last night. 

At 2:00 I reach the junction with the track F347 that leads to a ski resort below Snaekollur. I’ve taken 3 ½ hours to cover 28 Km. Not good. I huddle out of the wind and cram down some bread and cheese then carry on. 

I meet several groups of cyclists, all going the opposite way and being blown along by the wind. I stop and talk to a group of Danes and tell them what conditions are like ahead. Shortly afterwards I meet a lone Japanese cyclist who is spending 11 months touring around Europe and has the most luggage I’ve ever seen on a bike! A Dutch guy from Friesland provides another excuse to stop for a chat. He’s had 2 chain failures in as many days. I’ve been lucky to have no mechanical trouble. 

The weather clears a little and I’m able to make out the mint coloured snout of Langjokull as it pokes down into the lake Hvitarvatn. The turnoff for the hut at Hvitarnes confirms that I’ve done another 28 Km. 

This improvement doesn’t last very long. As I begin the long climb over Blafell the wind picks up again and it begins to rain steadily. I stop and struggle to put the rest of my waterproofs on. 

At the pass it’s terrible, the wind is gusting from all directions and blowing me off the bike. Once again I’m reduced to pushing for several Km. 

My body and legs are warm enough but my feet and hands are frozen. The “waterproof” gloves I bought before the trip are saturated. 

Over the other side I still need to pedal going downhill! I reach the Sanda bridge and there’s still another 12Km of undulating dirt track to cover. The land either side is barren and it seems to go on forever. 

I finally hit tarmac at Gulfoss and check my watch. It’s 11:00; the visitor centre and café are closed. I walk down the muddy path and slippery wooden steps and have the famous waterfall to myself in the twilight. 

Back to the road and I’ve got another 6Km to go, fortunately it’s downhill. I see the lights of farmhouses in the valley and then a ghostly white plume against the night sky, Strokkur doing his stuff even with no tourists to watch. 

The service station at Geysir is shut so I can’t even get a coffee. I find the campsite and put the tent up at midnight. I’ve been riding for 14 hours and am exhausted. I can’t be bothered to cook anything so I eat some bread and jam before crawling into my sleeping bag. 

Friday 26^th July – 0Km 

I wake up fairly early; it’s cold and overcast again. After last night I can’t be bothered to cook so I pack up and wheel the bike over to the visitor centre to have breakfast.  This is a mistake as there is very little choice at this time of day. I end up with coffee and a packet of chocolate Hob Nobs! 

The timetable shows that the bus gets here at 12:10. I wander across to the Geysir area and wander between the various hot pools and vents. Strokkur is erupting on a regular basis and is surrounded by people in multi-coloured clothing. 

I go back to the café for more coffee. The bus arrives but the driver tells me that he has to go up to Gulfoss first and will be back at 2:25. 

More coffee and then I give in and go to the souvenir shop to buy presents for my family. 

The bus turns up and I put my luggage in the hold and strap the bike on the rear rack with help from the driver. 

It’s a quick drive back with a brief stop at Selfoss. We go through the suburbs of Reykjavik to the bus station where I catch another bus, which deposits me at the campsite I started from in Keflavik. 

I put my tent up, have a shower and collect my front panniers from the site manager. Clean clothes! 

A stroll through Keflavik leads me to Pizza 69 where I have a huge pizza for 2000 Kr (£15, $23.55, 23.5 euros) and feel full for the first time in weeks!

Next morning I’m up early and catch my 8:00 flight home with no difficulty. 

A great trip and I’m already planning to come back in a few years.