Day 3
Wednesday 3rd 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
20th 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.