Iceland has one main road - the ring road - route 1. There are other roads crossing the island and sprouting off to the coastal extremities and these are the ones we want to find. We are starting southwards and Nadine wrote to us about a dirt road that shaves off a hundred kilometres, misses a tunnel and more importantly, gets us off route 1, if only for a day. The downside is it takes us over another high pass. Are we ready after yesterday's traumatic experience? Yes, of course. Now we think nothing will be as bad that.
Just after setting off Davide catches up with us. He stayed at the campsite last night after stocking up at the supermarket, although he observes that another supermarket is only a day's ride away. We ask him how the prices compare with those of Switzerland. We remember that many Swiss drive into Germany to stock up on groceries. Same prices, he tells us, but lower quality here. We realise that our currency has weakened since the Brexit referendum whilst the Icelandic Krona is strengthening on the back of their tourist boom. In one year, the pound has dropped a third in value in direct comparison. No wonder the bread's so expensive. After reflecting on the egregious state of Sterling Davide whizzes off down the valley and we follow at a more leisurely pace.
The valley is wide and we circuit around one side of a large and distant lake. We're surprised at the number of conifer trees but this region turns out to have the most forest of the island. We read that the government is trying to reforest Iceland and return it to the state it was before the Vikings arrived. Or was it to before the last Ice Age? It seems that it's wrong to blame the Vikings for stripping the island of trees - although it's possible they finished off what little was left.
Up ahead the valley narrows and the peaks of the surrounding mountains seem to close in. They are capped in dark clouds and we can see rain in the sky in the side valleys and all ahead of us. Happily it moves away as we get nearer and when we hit the dirt road and start climbing the sun comes out. It's a gentle climb but the dirt road is being 'groomed' by a young lad in a big machine. Basically he is tipping a huge amount of fresh earth over the road and then scraping it flat, thereby filling in all the potholes and leaving a beautiful carpet of thick soft soil. I'm sure he knows what he's doing, despite his young age, but it makes for a crap cycling surface.
At the pass a shower catches us and then we have the most incredible descent through a valley with wonderful rock formations. On both sides the cliff faces of the mountains are tiered in great waves of rock. It looks like petrified lasagne. And the road drops vertiginously at times like a washboard, pot-holed luge run. I don't know whether to look up or down. At the foot of the climb we find an unused track and camp with a view of the fjord we have arrived in. Easy and thrilling - what more could we want today?
Riding on to the next village in the morning and we find the road is rollercoasting rather steeply. It takes us all morning to ride only 25km. Are we so unfit, or just not used to that kind of up and down? We find David at the supermarket brandishing some brocoli. Already we have decided we can't afford meat, cheese, butter, chocolate, beer, wine and most vegetables. Our lunches consist of bread and jam with crisps and biscuits - a binge-eater's feast. Dinner is pasta and a simple sauce with onions and One Other Veg.
Now we're back on the ring road and following the south-eastern coastline. This consists of a series of fjords and wide bays with big mountains coming down to the coast. Sadly the tops are always wrapped in cloud and this makes them featureless and uniform. If only the cloud would lift. During the day there's wind and showers but in the evenings the wind tails off. We find some nice camp spots off the road, out of sight of the regular traffic. It's permissible for cyclists to camp wild but not for car or van drivers. Most of the traffic seems to be tourists in small rented vans and these are legally obliged to use campsites. The campsites we see usually resemble grassy carparks with little shelter from the wind. They're often by the road and look rather unpleasant. And it costs £30 to camp. As Gayle puts it "that's an expensive shower".
The wild camping turns out to be one of the best parts of the day. It's hardly getting dark at night - the sunset is between 11 and 12 at night - and the weather always seems to improve in the evening. We seem to get showers frequently in the morning but can wait for the tent to dry out - a short wait if our sheltered spot is not so sheltered. The worst part is lunch - with absolutely no shelter to be found from the elements - we often eat our jam sandwiches sat on the grass next to the road. In between there's some cycling - which is quite enjoyable as the traffic is not heavy and the coastline is rather dramatic and beautiful. We pass lonely sheep farms, some of which advertise accommodation. It seems an isolated part of the country and we like it.
After a short wet day we awake to big clear skies and a gusting easterly wind. It blows us along towards Hofn with the last shop for 200 km. There's a busy supermarket where all the staff look about 14 years old. There's also a quiet tourist office where we can get on-line and check the weather forecast. The fifteen year-old boy working there tells us "Tomorrow there'll be sun and showers." What about the wind? He taps his keyboard and then pulls a face. "The wind will be strong and...er...here, have a look yourself." The wind map on the weather website shows the region covered in a series of randomly pointing arrows.....
After a bit of surreptitious laundry in the bathroom we set off down the road with the wind on our backs trundling us along easily. It's our first sunny day and the mountains are all clear. And to top it off we find a great little spot to camp. After a rocky start Iceland is feeling good.
Just after setting off Davide catches up with us. He stayed at the campsite last night after stocking up at the supermarket, although he observes that another supermarket is only a day's ride away. We ask him how the prices compare with those of Switzerland. We remember that many Swiss drive into Germany to stock up on groceries. Same prices, he tells us, but lower quality here. We realise that our currency has weakened since the Brexit referendum whilst the Icelandic Krona is strengthening on the back of their tourist boom. In one year, the pound has dropped a third in value in direct comparison. No wonder the bread's so expensive. After reflecting on the egregious state of Sterling Davide whizzes off down the valley and we follow at a more leisurely pace.
The valley is wide and we circuit around one side of a large and distant lake. We're surprised at the number of conifer trees but this region turns out to have the most forest of the island. We read that the government is trying to reforest Iceland and return it to the state it was before the Vikings arrived. Or was it to before the last Ice Age? It seems that it's wrong to blame the Vikings for stripping the island of trees - although it's possible they finished off what little was left.
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| looking back |
At the pass a shower catches us and then we have the most incredible descent through a valley with wonderful rock formations. On both sides the cliff faces of the mountains are tiered in great waves of rock. It looks like petrified lasagne. And the road drops vertiginously at times like a washboard, pot-holed luge run. I don't know whether to look up or down. At the foot of the climb we find an unused track and camp with a view of the fjord we have arrived in. Easy and thrilling - what more could we want today?
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| the picnic sign is very misleading - there is never a tree, just a single windswept table |
Riding on to the next village in the morning and we find the road is rollercoasting rather steeply. It takes us all morning to ride only 25km. Are we so unfit, or just not used to that kind of up and down? We find David at the supermarket brandishing some brocoli. Already we have decided we can't afford meat, cheese, butter, chocolate, beer, wine and most vegetables. Our lunches consist of bread and jam with crisps and biscuits - a binge-eater's feast. Dinner is pasta and a simple sauce with onions and One Other Veg.
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| crap food, great views |
Now we're back on the ring road and following the south-eastern coastline. This consists of a series of fjords and wide bays with big mountains coming down to the coast. Sadly the tops are always wrapped in cloud and this makes them featureless and uniform. If only the cloud would lift. During the day there's wind and showers but in the evenings the wind tails off. We find some nice camp spots off the road, out of sight of the regular traffic. It's permissible for cyclists to camp wild but not for car or van drivers. Most of the traffic seems to be tourists in small rented vans and these are legally obliged to use campsites. The campsites we see usually resemble grassy carparks with little shelter from the wind. They're often by the road and look rather unpleasant. And it costs £30 to camp. As Gayle puts it "that's an expensive shower".
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| no services, no charge |
The wild camping turns out to be one of the best parts of the day. It's hardly getting dark at night - the sunset is between 11 and 12 at night - and the weather always seems to improve in the evening. We seem to get showers frequently in the morning but can wait for the tent to dry out - a short wait if our sheltered spot is not so sheltered. The worst part is lunch - with absolutely no shelter to be found from the elements - we often eat our jam sandwiches sat on the grass next to the road. In between there's some cycling - which is quite enjoyable as the traffic is not heavy and the coastline is rather dramatic and beautiful. We pass lonely sheep farms, some of which advertise accommodation. It seems an isolated part of the country and we like it. |
| no drivers spotted these reindeer when we stopped to watch them |
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| Icelandic B'n'B - demand outstrips supply these days |
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