the F35 beckons

glorious lupins

The spray from the waterfalls is flying up out of the gorge beneath us before we even see the falls themselves.  The sun is low and there are huge shadows now.  Amazingly there are still several cars in the carpark and a couple of camper vans.  People are heading along the boardwalk and down the steps for a closer look.  An attendant at the paying toilets chats to a friend.  A man is putting up a tent on the edge of the carpark.  The falls are wide and big and there's a roar of falling water into the gulley below.  It's about 11pm and we are still sight-seeing.  And then it's time to camp.  We ride on, not far, but indecision and poor choices mean we backtrack until we finally settle for a ledge below the road.  At midnight we finally lay our heads to rest.

with the spray from Gulfoss falls in the background

In the morning it's raining.  It rains til 3 in the afternoon when we finally emerge and get ready to ride on.  We've caught up on our sleep, and as we only have food for four nights, we want to cover at least a few kilometres.  We're heading into the highlands - the interior of Iceland - along the F35 dirt road that crosses south to north.  It's a gentle beginning - the road is asphalted for further than our map indicates and the climb is very gentle. 

In fact we lose altitude before hitting the dirt and crossing a low river on a bridge and starting to climb steeply.  We push a bit and finally hit the pass just as the clouds start to look threatening again.  Undaunted we c0ontinue down onto a flat plain with surrounding mountains in the distance.  The route is taking us between two of the country's smaller ice fields.  At the bottom of the descent we come to a long bridge over a raging river.  The wind is up now, blowing strongly and we seek shelter behind an emergency hut.  We're cold and it's windy.  Hang on.  Isn't this an emergency?  A moot point - the hut is locked tight.  Undecided, we cook our dinner in the lee of the hut.  While doing this two more cyclists arrive. A Polish couple who look quite cheerful and energised and who plan to reach a place off a side track further on.  We wish them well and eat our tea.  Gayle has her eye on a distant barn.  Another cyclist turns up, but he too has plans to get further along the road.  He's a bit more macho than me, I can tell, not put off by a bit of weather.

All alone once again, Gayle reconnoitres the barn.  It's in a small enclosure but it's open and empty.  As the wind is still gusting and the skies look dark and forbidding we don't hesitate.  Within twenty minutes we have everything inside and the tent set up for the night.  There are signs that another tent has been set up on the dirt floor inside.

the worst view we ever had in Iceland

After a fairly peaceful night, disturbed only by the arrival of a car camper who parks next to the barn, but doesn't come inside, we emerge to another windy day.  We greet the neighbours and then pedal off along the dirt road, wrestling the bikes in a big sidewind.  A few cars pass us slowly.  One parks up ahead and the passengers get out for a walkabout.  As I cycle past I crash into the car.  The wind is so strong that I am having to lean against it.  As soon as the car provides some shelter, I veer straight into it.  It reminds me of the joke about the stupid dog that likes to chase parked cars.

It's a long slow grind because of the wind.  The dirt road itself is not too difficult to ride, but the terrain is difficult to read as it's completely barren and indistinct and it's hard to see where we are heading.  We meet another couple cycling from Switzerland just before we stop for an early lunch in a spot of shelter.  The sun emerges and we start to feel more positive.  Over in the distance we can see one of the ice fields coating the mountains in the east.  We eventually crest the pass and the road ever so gently begins to descend.  By now the wind seems stronger but it is right behind us.  For what seems like an hour we are quite literally blown along a rough washboarded road at a ridiculous speed of over 20 km an hour, without even having to pedal.  All we have to do is avoid the big rocks and keep upright.  It's amazing, thrilling and frightening all in one.

Our reward for this wearying slog are the hotsprings that are about 3 kilometres off the main track.  Here we find the Polish couple Jacob and Tereza already preparing for a good long soak.  The Swiss couple arrive soon after us and look ready to stay a week.  There's camping here, but as jakob points out, why pay for camping here when we can ride 500 metres along the road and camp for free.  Mr. Macho is also here. We all congregate in the steaming outdoor hot pool and the hot waters quickly soothe the aching muscles.  Our cycling colleagues have brought along a taste from home - and the bottles are passed around.  There's a shared feeling of camraderie and entitlement as we look over this hostile landscape and think about the effort required to get here.

Before dark we head off with Tereza and Jacob and find a rock garden to camp in.  It takes a while clearing space for the tents, but it'll do fine.  The wind has dropped.  We can sleep soundly.

big country, big sky

The next day starts well with sunshine and little wind.  We are eager as we know it will be easier today - all downhill isn't it?  It seems so, although the road is sandy in places.  

when we moaned about the wind, Jacob pointed out, it's better than being in the office

We stop at another hut for lunch and then get going into what might be greener country - except it's not.  There are sheep about but we've no idea what they can be eating.  Jakob and Tereza fly off - they're much quicker than us - obviously not carrying a load like ours.  Mr. Macho soon catches up with us and chats to us for a while.

it's difficult to capture the views when the distances are so great, but this sums it up

 And then it rains.  And rains.  And rains.  We have to remind ourselves that what we are doing is just like all the tourists in cars, but slower.  Ha!  The road turns to mud and we can feel the rain penetrating our waterproofs.  It's dismal.  We push on and realise that the rain is actually following us.  It's moving across a vast landscape but almost staying exactly above us, like a cartoon rain cloud.  Finally we reach tarmac.  We're drenched, but now the road drops down into a valley and lookee here, there are trees!  This looks like a great place to camp.  And then the clouds break, the sun emerges, we dry out, pitch our tent and we all live happily ever after........