The ferry glides up the fjord. The hillsides are green. The sun is shining. There are occasional, isolated, cottages. So far, so tourist brochure. On the quayside we pedal to the front of the queue at the customs post. A nice customs officer stops us only to say hello and give us some words of advice. It snowed last night on the hills and it's a little bit windy on the tops. Have a nice time in Iceland.
The ship is still disgorging all shapes and size of vehicle as we head off. There are bikers, car drivers, VW campers, bigger camper vans, overland vehicles all belching black fumes, and more camper vans. Davide is a young Swiss guy riding a bicycle. He disappears quickly. We pause at an atm and then join the merry throng which is convoying up the road and out of Seydisfjordur. We pass by an electronic display board which we don't really understand. It says -2C and SA8. We'll learn.
Very soon we have left the pretty village and are climbing. We expect this. We have to cross a pass of 640 metres to reach the next town. The road starts to switchback. There is a steady stream of vehicles that pass us after coming off the boat. There's a gushing waterfall off to one side. As we ascend the clouds descend to meet us halfway. It seems like a fair deal. Drizzling, mizzling.
And then we're at the top at last where it starts to snow. And the wind howls in our ears. But at least we can start heading down. Except the road just continues straight ahead, neither climbing, nor descending. Ahh, the infamous Icelandic heidi - a high plateau pass. A bloke on the ship warned us about heidis - he told us to make sure we don't get caught on them in bad weather. We look about us. There are frozen lakes and fresh and old snow. The road stays clear. We pedal on. And finally the view of the next valley opens up before us and we are looking down on Egilstaddir. We quickly put on more layers. The snow has stopped, but the wind is buffeting us. Gayle quickly disappears down the switchbacks, but I'm finding it hard to brake with frozen fingers, and have to stop to warm them up. We drop down into clumps of dwarf pine trees and purple lupins. It starts to rain. We pedal hard until we reach the town and make a bee-line for the tourist information office. It's a perfect haven, a port in a storm. Warm, dry, with seats and tables to eat at, toilets. Did I mention it's warm? Outside it's cold. We start glowing almost as soon as we get inside.
Welcome to Iceland. It's the 6th of June and we've just endured minus temperatures and a taste of the Icelandic wind. But we've survived! We feel triumphant after this baptism of ice. After a very long lunch we go to the supermarket. The shop has been gutted by the gannets in the campervans. There's one loaf of bread left on the shelf. It costs about £4. Ooof. It's not often I openly weep in public, I can tell you. After walking around in a haze for a while we emerge with a couple of bags of food and an overdraft. We cycle off along the road past the campsite and find a little spot behind some trees off the road.
The ship is still disgorging all shapes and size of vehicle as we head off. There are bikers, car drivers, VW campers, bigger camper vans, overland vehicles all belching black fumes, and more camper vans. Davide is a young Swiss guy riding a bicycle. He disappears quickly. We pause at an atm and then join the merry throng which is convoying up the road and out of Seydisfjordur. We pass by an electronic display board which we don't really understand. It says -2C and SA8. We'll learn.
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| the board shows weather conditions on the pass ahead |
Very soon we have left the pretty village and are climbing. We expect this. We have to cross a pass of 640 metres to reach the next town. The road starts to switchback. There is a steady stream of vehicles that pass us after coming off the boat. There's a gushing waterfall off to one side. As we ascend the clouds descend to meet us halfway. It seems like a fair deal. Drizzling, mizzling.
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| looking back |
Welcome to Iceland. It's the 6th of June and we've just endured minus temperatures and a taste of the Icelandic wind. But we've survived! We feel triumphant after this baptism of ice. After a very long lunch we go to the supermarket. The shop has been gutted by the gannets in the campervans. There's one loaf of bread left on the shelf. It costs about £4. Ooof. It's not often I openly weep in public, I can tell you. After walking around in a haze for a while we emerge with a couple of bags of food and an overdraft. We cycle off along the road past the campsite and find a little spot behind some trees off the road.
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| cheap but cheerful |
