Fjörds forded

Here we are with another Icelandic milestone behind us! Earlier today we passed through the short 1.3km tunnel from Lónsöræfi and passed from the Eastfjörds to the south east coast.

Our trip south began with a tunnel as well: from Reyðarfjörður, we climbed a short way up the fjörd and into the forboding mouth of the 6km long tunnel that connects it to Fáskrúðsfjörður. What would await us? Trolls? Shelob? Or just a dark cold road with trucks threatening to flatten us? None of the above as it turns out, with the interior being a perfectly decent road, and even a pleasant ride, what with it being out of the wind for once and all.

Into the mouth of the beast.

Emergency exit options: front of tunnel, back of tunnel. Start moving.

After this, it was some winding fjörd roads, a pit stop in a small-town burger joint (Icelanders love their fast food.), and on to Breiðdalsvik, a small, pretty coastal town. We're doing shorter runs now. My knees feel alright (thanks Julie!), but only for about 60km or so, and Zack's epic, and also knee-busting ride through the gravel desert seemed to convince him that maybe 60-70km isn't too unrespectable when it's in Iceland.

The campsite was well maintained and free, and also freezing cold. It also has no grocery store, so after a somewhat unsucessful tuna-pasta experiment with what we could find in the local gas station, concocted on Hated Camp Stove (ask Zack about Hated Camp Stove), we spent a shivery evening at the lone exposed picnic table. We played chess (Zack won), and chatted with Franzi, another cycle tourist from Germany, who was completing the opposite circuit from ours a few fjörds north, where a ferry will take you to Denmark.

We also got rained on all during breakfast. The bathrooms were clean though.

Pretty even in crappy weather.

Next destination: Djúpivogur, 1 1/2 fjörds down. The upside to fjörds: super pretty. Downside: when you can see your destination on the opposite tip, probably fifteen minutes away if there were a bridge, but you've got three hours of riding up one side and back down the other before you get there.

View from the Djúpovogur campground. The sun is setting somewhere back there.

After Djúpivogur, we continue south. We're almost out of the Fjörds proper now, with just a few to go. It's sunny now, which is great, because we've had a week or more of clouds, rain, and chilly wind. The wind isn't going anywhere, but hey, nice to see that sun again.

Speaking of wind, our ride through the last few fjörds is turned into an exhilirating ride by 40 km winds screaming off the highlands and out to sea, gusting to 60 km. So riding inwards: a struggle to keep bikes on the road that was sending my stress levels through the roof. Riding outwards: basically as much fun as you can have on a bike. Best worst cycling day ever?

It ends at Stafafell, in the Lónsöræfi wilderness area. Here long gravel flats run out into the lagoons, and behind this we find a beautiful campground in among the grassy hills. We've neglected to properly supply for a totally store-less area, so it's oatmeal and plain noodles for dinner (lunch was peanut butter & chocolate chip cookie sandwiches), but the sun & view make up for it.

Actually, PB & cookie sandwiches are delicious.

Final descent.

Lagoon!

To be fair, we did have some garlic & herbs for the pasta, too.

Next morning, just a short 30km hop to Höfn! We're taking a mini-break for the afternoon here, before setting out to spend the next few days cycling past the imposing Vatnajökull - the largest ice cap outside of the polar regions!

Höfn it thru the Fjords

Map update! We´re taking the afternoon off in the town of Höfn (pronounce the umlaut and my pun will be funny). Probably more later, but for now, here is the route thus far:


View Larger Map

One does not simply ride into Mordor

As with all decisions of great import, I should have listened to Boromir.

As documented previously, while Adam sat in comfort on a bus, I tackled Iceland´s Great Gravel Desert (that isn't what it's called, but I like it) by bike. Flush with confidence and power coursing through my veteran cycle-tourist legs, I set out!

One does not simply ride in to Mordor, not without terrible weather conditions anyway. As the sign shows, the wind was blowing at 8m/s from the southeast. Can you guess which direction I was headed? (Not to mention it was only 10 degrees. Wait, you thought we were having FUN out here?)

Mordor awaits! In memory, the 110km ride splits in to 3 distinct parts - just like Lord of the Rings! So we shall split it up that way. The first 40km, I faced a steady headwind, but I was enjoying the bleak and beautiful scenery. Much like for Frodo and co. in the Fellowship of the Ring, the first third of my journey was touched with danger and hardship, but defined by the spirit of exploration and progress.

Kilometres 40 thru 60 were more like reading any of the later of Robert Jordan's "The Wheel of Time" series. In that it was endlessly long, nothing happened, and a conclusion never seemed to be coming any closer. I was well provisioned with food and water, yet the merciless headwind continued to howl and impede my progress. Somewhere along here my morale flagged and I began to curse my decision to ride (Rather than wait a day - ONE FRIGGIN DAY - for more favorable wind conditions).
Perhaps part of the problem was that out here, there weren't even any sheep or birds to yell at (my usual stress relief valve.)

To further muddle this nerdy fantasy analogy, if you try to tell me this wasn't where they filmed the scenes at the Fist of the First Men in Game of Thrones, season 2.....I WILL find you. Anyway. Kilometres 60 through until the end were like reading Storm of Swords, in which life is short and full of pain. After 7 hours of battling the wind, my knees started to give out. I considered stopping where I was and putting up my tent, however I am also extremely stubborn! And still desperate to prove Boromir up there wrong. So I pushed on the last 20km, taking breaks every 5, and finally descended out of the desert and down in to a valley where a hot-tub equipped campsite lay in wait! I'd done it. I had simply rode in to, and back out of, Mordor.

It would be another 80km before I caught up with Adam here in Reyðarfjörður (in my head, anglicized to "Radarfjord"). I was a little nervous about it due to the painful state of my knees - but my first tailwind in what seems like weeks reminded me that yes, cycling actually CAN be fun, even in Iceland!

After a lonely peanut-butter based lunch and brief climb, we're here with a roof over our heads, resolved to do absolutely nothing for a day or two. Except for stretching! Thanks, Julie! And as always, stay tuned for more pretty pictures from Adam and hopefully fewer stupid fantasy references from me.

Kneevatn

. A

"I am going to make it to Mývatn. If my knees explode, I'll take a bus from there." -Me

After our short rest in Akureyri (Mmmm... Kaldi), we set off again on a grey, chilly, rainy morning for Mývatn. After a leisurely climb up the fjörd from the city, we headed up into the clouds and over the next pass.

Steeper than it looks. Also, colder.

A short while (and only a few stops for breath) later, this earned the first fun descent. Fun because this time there wasn't enough headwind to make brakes superfluous. Still not the fan of hills that Zack is, but damn if going 7km without pedaling once isn't pretty good.

At about the 50km mark, we hit Goðafoss (the ð is a voiced 'th' like in 'this'). These are the falls where about 1000 years ago, the Icelandic lawspeaker Þorgeir threw idols of the Norse gods into the falls when he decided that Iceland should convert to Christianity. My guess? This just made Njörðr angry, and he's been punishing Iceland with howling winds ever since.

Nice spot to break up with your gods.

The nearby rest stop also served a very hearty & welcome meat stew. Perfect for cyclists on blustery days.

After this was a bit of a long grindy climb back up the last headlands before the Mývatn area. It was almost at the top of this that my knees exploded. Not really of course, but what had been a vague ache was now intense pain, and hills that even I think are wimpy were insurmountable. Still, only 25km to go, right? Zack once again pulls me out of the fire by helping me up the last few big hills (process: Zack bikes up. I walk up. Zack walks down to however far I've made it & bikes my bike up. "Just doing it to stay warm", he says.)

We descend down to the lake, and now it's no choice but to crawl the 15km to the north end of the lake & our campground. Luckily you don't remember pain all that well after a few days.

The next day was a day off to hang out around Mývatn. The one upside to the constant wind is that the gnats that give the lake its name are nowhere to be found.

We biked a short way (ouch) to Dimmuborgir, an area of weird pillars formed when a lava lake occupied the area a couple thousand years ago. Hiking, luckily, is no problem for the knees.

Zack looks for trolls.

"The Church", remaining section of a lava tunnel.

Our brief respite of nice weather ended that evening, with an even colder wind than usual picking up. It was supposedly still 7° out, but I've decided that Icelandic degrees are like Icelandic kilometers - somehow just meaner. Luckily we were rescued by a great Belgian couple, shivering beside us during dinner, who had come via ferry with their Lada. We all squish in, along with Simon, a Québecois cyclist doing the opposite circuit, who we had just met earlier as well.

Whatever its flaws, a place where the water comes out of the ground already hot, and you can spend all evening lazing around in it definitely can be recommended. Smells like rotten eggs, sure, but well worth it. Does wonders for sore knees. There are also cold outdoor showers that you can occasionally hop out & douse yourself in. Sounds nuts, but makes it twice as good. We stayed until they kicked us out.

The miserable weather only made it better.

Unfortunately for me, the knee situation meant hopping a bus to the Eastfjörds, so I missed the full experience of the upcoming gravel desert. Zack has been spending the last two days battling headwinds through it. Will he make it here to Reyðarfjörður in one piece? Watch this space to find out!

Hey, it's like a safari! Look kids, it's a greater Canadian cycletourist. Note the distinctive markings. And inexplicable need for self-punishment.

Not exactly Mordor, but not exactly welcoming either.

Still bummed to be seeing it through a bus window though.

Second Breakfast in the Midgewater Marsh

After another day of wildly varied wind and rain conditions, we are taking a day off at Myvátn, a lake supposedly named after the swarms of flies that live here. We have not seen them yet, due to the ever-present ferocious winds. I am actually fairly worried my tent is blowing over as I type this. (Apologies for the android syntax, I again cannot find the apostrophe on this computer.)

For a change, we are on a Linux machine here, and as anyone who has ever tried to use Linux wireless knows, if you cough it disconnects. I shall try to post a picture but no guarantees!

In the meantime, here is the route map so far:
View Larger Map

I think we're having fun?

Well, if you're going to get into cycle touring, I guess you might as well start at the deep end.

After an easy first day to Þingvellir, things got interesting. The second day was 60km of gravel. Where it wasn't loose enough to send your front tire flying out from under you, it was generally a washboard. Still, at least it only rained on us for a small part of it, and we made it through unscathed. (Mostly. Having been proud of no falls despite total clipless pedal newbie status, the gravel put me in my place once or twice. Luckily at low speeds and no lasting damage.)

A topsoil erosion problem you say? Zack waits for me at the curve. Zack is going to have to get used to doing that a lot.

If bags of manure are the only place to eat lunch out of the howling wind, you eat lunch behind the bags of manure.

The next few days educated me in just what a hardcore cycle tourist I am: entirely squishy and naive. Still, 50km headwinds while climbing a mountain pass on a road with no shoulders and frequent truck traffic isn't a  Sunday ride through the park, so I think I can live with it. Much gratitude to Zack, who's combination Trip Dad (somebody ought to know what they're doing), Mother Hen ("Are you hungry?", "No.", "Tired?", "Yes.", "Then eat!"), and generally awesome cycling companion (Emergency peanut butter sandwiches! Drafting!) got me through a couple of panicky spots.

Zack fears no puny 50km/h headwind.

Victory! Only 400m up, and ~50km in, but an Icelandic meter is worth many of your mortal meters.

So it's been brutal, but, yes, we're having fun. The ever beautiful views help, nothing tastes better than the beer at the end of the hardest-earned kilometres, and a hot tub overlooking the fjörd is one of the best possible rewards.

Hard to imagine a better reward.

A little uncertain as to what the next few days holds - the aforementioned headwinds and climbing left me, if not quite a quivering wreck, a little worse for wear to say the least. An extra day of rest in Akureyri has abated the exhaustion, but the knees are feeling abused. Will I cycle through the great gravel desert? Or have to catch a bus through to the other side? We'll see!

Are we having fun yet?

Alternate title: Are we having an ice time? Short answer, yes!

It's been an action packed few days, and the cycling has been quite difficult, although extremely rewarding. In fact any of 3 days could probably have qualified as the most difficult day of a 3-month cross-Canada tour.

We headed out of Reykjavik and cycling to Thingvellir, which was the meeting place for the island's government in ancient times. The Law-Speaker would stand up on one of these rocks, read out the country's laws, and then I guess they would judge people and either drown them or hang them. Gloomy place!

This site also happens to be located in the rift valley where the North American and Eurasian plates are separating. We stuck to the North American side. After another midnight sunset,

we elected to take a very dumb "shortcut" chosen by me. Did you know that Icelandic has 17 words for "terrible gravel road surface?" Apparently they all translate to "Sure, it's OK for cycling" or at least they did for the woman at the info centre. Anyway, what followed was an absolutely gruelling 60km on gravel through a desolate (but absolutely beautiful) valley. Going was slow as we had to walk the bikes at times.

We eventually made it out without mishap. Thankful to be back on the main highway, we were immediately blasted by 50km/h headwinds for the next two days. (Again, at least the scenery was amazing)

Another couple of days (and a couple of mountain passes) later,

and we're holed up in Akureyri, Iceland's second largest city! I should point out that I spent 20 minutes composing this posting, and 20 installing Chrome on this computer because OH MY GOD Internet Explorer is terrible.

In any case, we're doing relatively well

..and after another couple of pints of Kaldi Pale Ale,

we'll strike out East and head for the Great Gravel Desert! (I don't think it's called that, but this makes it sound more exciting.) As ever, who knows when we'll find more functional computers, but we'll do what we can.

How do you pun "Reykjavik?"

I initially had a litany of complaints, clever observations, and mundane airport-related anecdotes lined up to mark our arrival in Reykjavik. Instead of that, here's a shot of the sun setting over the harbor at 11:45pm.

Incredible. That's one item off the bucket list. Well, technically, "see the midnight sun" was the item. "See the approximately midnight sunset" is, I feel, an improvement. So there.

I guess this one can be the midnight twilight:

..I actually can't tell if that turned out, this monitor is dark. Anyway. We've made it here to Iceland, the bikes are intact, and the plan is to hit the road tomorrow morning. The air is cold, the cats are friendly, and the frozen yogurt is sold by weight. I think we will do alright here.

Back in the Saddle!

It hasn't even been two years since Matt and I returned from Japan, and yet, here I am again, with bike boxed and plane ticket in hand.

View Larger Map To Iceland! Inspired by tales of Viking history unique geological formations escaping the Great North American Heatwave watching Jon Snow traverse the lands north of the Wall on Game of Thrones, I've decided to circumnavigate the island by bicycle, starting tomorrow.

Unfortunately Matt wasn't able to join me this time. I suppose the pressures of having things like "property" and "a girlfriend" can tie a person down! However, a new challenger has presented himself and perhaps foolishly agreed to enter my Wheelhouse of Pain. Adam, remember the cycle tourist's mantra: "It doesn't have to be fun, to be fun!"
(I'll try to arrange for Adam to be able to post here as well, which Matt will get to when he fixes the layout and banner! ie, never.)

Twelve thousand kilometres and counting! Ready for another run, ol' girl? (The Working Horse responds: "Да.") As ever, postings will be unpredictable, but I'll do my best to maximize interesting picture content and minimize self indulgent punnery. Also, that's not true as I will be doing the opposite of that. Actually why don't I get this out of my system right now:

Back to packing!