Kneevatn

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"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.