Reading the blog of our friend Chris, who cycled in Iceland a few years ago, he described an experience that he felt was the highlight of his journey here. He'd had a tough time fighting the weather and the arduous highland routes across the island. He was on the second of these crossings when a four-wheel drive pulled over and someone handed him a Mars bar.
I liked this story. It brought to mind the advice our friend Andrea gave us in 2009 when we told her we wanted to travel by bikes. She has a huge experience of bike touring in remote places and her advice was simple: "Cycle touring is not in the legs, it's all up here" (pointing to her head). In other words, no matter how physically difficult it gets, any struggle can be overcome with the mind, with positive-thinking.
Chris was cycling around Iceland mostly on his own and we think that's hard. It's a demanding country. We have the comfort and luxury of sharing the hard rides and the wind-blown lunches, of feeling like we're being hunted down by those approaching rain clouds. If one of us is feeling low, the other one can cheer us up, or at least out-moan us.
On this day we leave Holmavik and head southwards, having decided that we don't have the energy or the time to cycle the Western Fjords. We're happy to have made this decision, if not a little disappointed not to explore a part of Iceland that fewer tourists visit. Leaving late, hoping the southerly wind will die down, we set off along a decent road that climbs very slowly up to our first pass. We have to pedal down the other side to the western coast (because the wind has not died down) and cross a loooooooooong causeway that bridges quite a wide and deep bay. The tide is shifting and there's a strong flow of water through the gap under the road, letting the water drain out into the sea. We pass through some farmland - our first real sight of farming beyond the few isolated ones on the south coast. There are no vegetables being grown. It's all hay for cows.
We turn a bend and head into a tight valley with dark clouds gathering above. It looks like we'll get soaked but the rain holds off. We begin our second pass of the day - an easy climb through a narrow valley - and at the top we consider camping. There are sheep about, and there's some shelter from the wind, but it feels a little too cold and high for comfort. We wrap up and start the descent, before pulling into a lay-by where there's a waterfall view. There's a camper van parked in the lay-by and I get the distinct whiff of fresh coffee as we pass by.
Before we have time to discuss camping options, the door of the van slides open and a man steps out. "Hey guys, do you fancy some hot coffee?" He's smiling broadly at us and I want to kiss him. Even Gayle says yes, and she can't stand the stuff. Before we know it, we're snugly ensconced inside the van chatting with Dan and Char about our journeys. They've come from California on their way to Europe and hired the van for a couple of months to fully explore the island. When they asked the rental company for suggestions of where to go in that time they were met with blank looks and an apology. The longest rental the firm had ever had was for two weeks. I have to tell Dan that the offer of fresh coffee from travellers in a camper van is a dream rarely realised. Char brews up some tea for Gayle and we stay for an hour. It's a moment we don't want to end - that chance meeting with lovely people, their kind offer, some respite from the weather outside. It's our Mars Bar Moment.
Before we leave, they thrust a couple of beers into our hands "for later".
I liked this story. It brought to mind the advice our friend Andrea gave us in 2009 when we told her we wanted to travel by bikes. She has a huge experience of bike touring in remote places and her advice was simple: "Cycle touring is not in the legs, it's all up here" (pointing to her head). In other words, no matter how physically difficult it gets, any struggle can be overcome with the mind, with positive-thinking.
Chris was cycling around Iceland mostly on his own and we think that's hard. It's a demanding country. We have the comfort and luxury of sharing the hard rides and the wind-blown lunches, of feeling like we're being hunted down by those approaching rain clouds. If one of us is feeling low, the other one can cheer us up, or at least out-moan us.
On this day we leave Holmavik and head southwards, having decided that we don't have the energy or the time to cycle the Western Fjords. We're happy to have made this decision, if not a little disappointed not to explore a part of Iceland that fewer tourists visit. Leaving late, hoping the southerly wind will die down, we set off along a decent road that climbs very slowly up to our first pass. We have to pedal down the other side to the western coast (because the wind has not died down) and cross a loooooooooong causeway that bridges quite a wide and deep bay. The tide is shifting and there's a strong flow of water through the gap under the road, letting the water drain out into the sea. We pass through some farmland - our first real sight of farming beyond the few isolated ones on the south coast. There are no vegetables being grown. It's all hay for cows.
 |
| you can't win them all - nice road, lousy views |
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| Dan and Char and their cosy camper |
Before we leave, they thrust a couple of beers into our hands "for later".
 |
| ahhhhh |
