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I call it Biking like a Viking.
Participants: Scott Nowicki and Serge Drogi
Introduction:
The question that most people ask is "why Iceland ?", and just like many of the other trips, the real answer lies something between total random chance and destiny. I have been developing a need to see Iceland for many years, and it just so happened that Serge had an irrational need to go too. From my experience, Iceland is steeped in legend and pure geological magic. It is one of the places on the planet where the most powerful natural forces poke their violent heads above the ground to provide both beautiful and incredibly dangerous landscapes. It is also a land of wacky people that have been doing wacky things for more than 1000 years. Put it all together, and it's pretty irresistible. With enough beer and enough time talking about adventures, Serge and I had no choice but to plan a trip to Iceland. The solstice seemed like a good time, and things just happened.
We had no illusions about our trip beforehand. I know a couple of people who have spent time in Iceland, and the only thing they could agree on was the weather. It is only predictable in that it sucks. We were expecting it to be below freeing and raining at all times. Thus, we packed and planned for the worst. This is the attitude that everyone should take when planning a trip to Iceland, because then if you even get any amount of sun, you're ecstatic. Luckily for us, we had better weather than we ever imagined, made the right route choices, and had a relatively easy and comfortable time. But I have not been tricked by good fortune. Next year, when I return for round 2, I will expect wind, rain, cold and pain. And maybe I'll be happily surprised.
June 9 : Keflavik –Thingvellir, 60.7 km, Avg 17.1 km/h
A fine day. At 6:30 am, when we went from airport to bus in Keflavik, it was warm and sunny. A good way to start a trip that we were half expecting to have to do in a constant downpour and freezing temperatures. 45 minutes gets you to Reykjavik, the only city in the country. We build up, stock up at a grocery store, and roll out of town at noon. A few hours later we get to Thingvellir. This place is a sweet geological phenomenon, where the Eurasian and North Americans plates pull apart fast enough to leave behind a fissure in the basalt. The early Icelanders liked this place too, because this is where they first started holding their parliamentary meetings, almost 1000 years ago. I’m so tired from not sleeping on the plane, I crash out at 9 pm, despite the fact that the sun is high in the sky.
June 10: Thinigvellir – Hveravellir. 161.1 km, Avg 16 km/h
The 20 km/h wind at our backs made us feel like machines. Perhaps that’s why we tricked ourselves into 19 hours of riding, with 12 hours of spin time. We saw Geysir, and Gullifoss, and 60 km into the ride we hit dirt. Then things got fun. Cruising between mountains and glaciers, we just kept rolling. During dinner at 8pm, the temperature was 22 C. The sky was blue, the scenery spectacular, so we kept going. At about 1 am, we thought we were at the top of the pass, and it was all downhill after that. I can't believe how wrong we were. At 4 am, we actually reached our camping spot. Hveravellir hotsprings were calling to us. In bed by 5 am. Ugh.
June 11: Hveravellir – Lake Blondulon. 46.5 km, Avg 14.5 km/h
Where the day before we were mighty biking machines, today we are old and rusted. Up at 2 pm, and rolled out of camp at 4pm. We thought we could make it to Blondos, but we were dead wrong. The winds are strong in the afternoon, and even stronger in the evening. At 10 pm, I had enough of the blasting wind square in my face. I made Serge camp and wait for the calm of morning. Yes it was my call, and Serge was ready to keep going, but I knew the morning would treat us better.
June 12: Lake – Saudarkrokur (Sourdough cracker). 124.7 km, Avg 18.6 km/h
The wind had turned in the night so it was time to fly. We cruised the dirt road in happy comfort, sailing in the breeze. A stop next to a major hydroelectric plant was at the top of a 16% drop. The descent was fast on the order of instant death if you lose it in a turn. We made an unfortunate choice and went to Blondos. When we realized nothing was there besides a liquor store and gas station food, we bought a bottle of wine and rolled over the mountain for another 50 k of riding. That turned out to be a good choice. We had to climb pretty high over the pass, but the view was amazing. Snow-topped mountains and beautiful u-shaped glaciers surrounded us as we descended another >15% grade. So far, we have gone down all the ridiculously steep grades, never up. I think our choice of directions was good. The wind that had propelled us up the pass hit us in the face on a steep climb to Sourdoughcracker, but we survived. It In the campground, we washed in the sink (due to lack of showers), and shared the wine with some Scandinavian kids working summer jobs in Iceland. Serge got drunk on a glass of wine and one beer. Good times. The rain hit after we set up the tent, so serious wetness was avoided.
June 13: Sourdoughcracker – Dalvik. 131.8 km, Avg 18.3 km/h
Raced out of town to beat the clouds. We bent around the coast and the wind was at our backs. Good sailing. We met a local riding a bike. In fact, this is the only Icelander we saw riding a bike for the whole trip. He said nobody bikes because of the wind. We were able to understand where he’s coming from, but we pushed on into the rain and pain that lay ahead. After a couple hours of riding the road in the rain, the pavement ended. The route that followed wasn’t unlike a Flagstaff to Grand Canyon episode, but the mud wasn’t quite as sticky. So we got wet, cold, and filthy. A quick stop at a car wash in Olafsjordur left us a little cleaner, but ready to end the day. On the climb out of town, I put a gash in the sidewall of my rear tire, probably due to a rock or mud that got wedged in the brake. Luckily, I was carrying a spare tire. A 3.5 k tunnel was a harrowing, but certainly much lower-energy option than going over another steep mountain. So we took it, and had to play chicken with a dozen cars or so. We reached Dalvik by 11 pm, after the grocery store and restaurants all closed. Once again we ate from the gas station. Yummy. Serge was desperate enough to eat a hotdog.
June 14: Dalvik – Grimsey – Dalvik. 0 km via bike
The clouds were looking pretty ominous, so we were pretty happy to board the ferry to Grimsey Island. A few hours of slightly bumpy seas on a dumpy ferry required a little time on dry land before feeling 100 percent. Crossing the arctic circle involved battling the birds (called “bonksies” for appropriate reasons, as a Scotsman later told us) and eating an unappetizing ham and cheese sandwich. But the scenery was pretty cool. Grimsey is mostly a bunch of layers consisting of flows, with a somewhat tilted and sloping surface. The result is a beautiful little basaltic island with rolling green hills and wacky inhabitants. Ferry back was better, and we were actually able to find pizza in Dalvik that night. Pizza seems to be the healthiest food option available in the country of Iceland.
June fifteen: Dalvik to Akureyri, fiftyeight.2 km, Avg 19.2 km/h
A nice fat woman in the bakery gave us doughnuts and coffee, and we rolled out of Dalvik at 11. Rolling hills, wind at your back, cruising up the fjord kind of ride. One of those days where you couldn’t imagine a nicer place to be riding your bike. Despite the fact that Akureyri is the second biggest “city”, traffic is minimal. Yeah. Found something that resembled a bike shop, though no one who worked there actually rides a bike. I heard a rumor that there is someone in town that knows something about bikes, but its his day off. I imagine he is out riding his bike. We buy some fenders and are now prepared for whatever the weather gods throw at us. Sleeping in the campground which has all the amenities, including the football(soccer) playing kids that start at midnight and play until 2 am, a few meters from our tent.
June sixteen: Akureyri to Myvatn. 91.3 km, Avg 1.9 km/h
We had tips that there was a big celebration for the independence celebration on the 17th in the city, but we couldn’t just stall for 2 days on a 2 ½ week bike trip, so we gave up and headed out, hoping that we might catch a pagan orgy or something in the middle of nowhere on solstice. The wind would give us half a break as the road wound all over the place out of Akureyri. Screaming fast descents and a couple of slow grinds later, we found ourselves at Godafoss. The story is that way back in 1100 or so, the Thingspeaker had to decide whether to convert to Christianity or stick with happy Paganism. He chose Jesus, and then threw all his pagan idols into the falls, thus Godafoss, the Falls of the Gods. We felt sorry for the poor pagan gods, but had to run into the café to avoid the downpour. As a result of our compassion, the gods of Iceland started to look upon us with a little more kindness. We avoided direct rain all the way to Myvatn, where we camped among the pseudocraters, which are cinder cones formed from phreatomagmatic interactions, duh. We have a 3100 KR buffet dinner and do our best to eat our money’s worth.
June 17: Myvatn to Grimstunga. Sixty1.38 km, Avg 1.8 km/h
Day of Icelandic Independence. Woke with the wind and the rain. That is a light drizzle but a bear of a wind. Cute local girl told me about how last year on the 21st, they had a full blanket of snow, so there’s no telling what weather might be in store for us. Rode half into the wind through a diatomite factory which was producing so much hydrothermal steam that visibility on the road was about meters. Then we turned and climbed directly into the wind. The thermal area was interesting but it was so cold that we could only stand around for a few minutes before we were shivering and blasted from the wind. So the only option was to get on the bikes and pedal. This was the first time in Iceland that my fingers and toes were getting painfully cold. So I curled them in my gloves and didn’t look back at Serge as we pounded out the K’s across the arctic tundra. In a few locations, basaltic derived sand/just (JSC 1) was blowing across the road at ridiculous velocities and volumes. A martian scientists dream, but fairly painful. Significant abrasion was occurring a meter above the ground. Lots of basaltic rocks that were bright sitting in fields of darker fine-grained material. The practical application of my dissertation was crumbling before my eyes, but I just kept pedaling (this is funny because I calculate the albedo of rocks to be somewhere around .08 and dust to typically be well above .2, but in this case, the values are probably about .2five and .2, respectively, which throws off my temperature calculations by nearly 10 K. Isn’t that funny.). Then, it starts to snow in the horizontal kind of way. We make it not even halfway between Myvatn and the next town, but we do find a little guesthouse out in the middle of nowhere, and pay the toll and take a room. We chill in Grimstunga, population: us. This northwestern stuff is tough.
June 18: Grimstunga to Egilsstadir. 138 km, Avg 20.8 km/h
We got up, piled our food, counted calories, and determined we wouldn’t have enough to make it. Oh well. The sun was shining and the wind was at our backs, so we rolled. Lunched behind a glacial moraine, which was the only protection. A painful ascent into the wind hammered us good, but the tailwind for the last 22 k into Egils rocked, and left us in better than good spirits. Happy day.
June 19: Egilsstadir to Djupivogur. 8six.7 km, Avg 18.3 km/h.
Rolled a K out of town and took my first water sample for Hilairy the oceanographer turned lacustrine geochemist. Wound up climbing the mountains and finding a shortcut that reduced our mileage by fifty k. That’s good. A 17 percent grade through an incredible stack of Tertiary volcanics dropped us back to sea level. These layers represent hundreds of flows over probably a couple million years. I liked it a lot. The wind up the fjord was the strongest and most consistent we had felt. Serge was pushing on me the whole time. Maybe those drop bars do the trick.
June 20:Djupivogur to Hofn. 10six.five km, Avg 18.9 km/h
Longest day of the year #1.
Up at 8, and out an hour or two later. Some sun offset the wind and the clouds. A black pebble/sand beach was the highlight. We played in the gravel and marveled at the forces of geology. A good chunk of the road was unpaved and graded right into a debris slope, which was at the angle of repose. Or at least most of it was at the angle of repose while the slope directly above the road was oversteepened. Not a good place to be at when it rains. The wind was running up the fjord in every case, so we could see the suffering that we had to endure far before we reached it. A killer sixteen percent slope welcomed us into Hofn, and we were happy to be done. Hofn has the best café/coffeehouse/restaurant/bar that we have seen. Called Café Hornid, we went to dinner twice because we couldn’t get enough. Serge wanted to return again in the morning, but they didn’t open until 11, and I wanted to be on our way well before that. My ChrisKing rear hub was backdriving so bad, I had to pull it apart and “regrease” the bearings. A generous amount of Prolink did the trick, but I need to remember to overhaul when I get home. The night was overcast and lame, because we didn’t see the midnight sun.
June 21: Hofn to Skaftafell Nat’l Park. 140.1 km, Avg 21.2 km
Longest day of the year #2.
The sun came up with a vengeance, after being so lame yesterday. We were out of town by almost 10 am when I got a rip in my sixteen inch BOB tire. That can be a showstopper. I patch and boot and pump it to low pressure and see how far we can go. After wasting a good 44 minutes messing with that, we roll a few more k down the road and have breakfast at a hotel. Serge wants to kill me because we gave up Café Hornid coffee and it’s already 11, and we’re only 8 k down the road. Another 20 k down the road and my tire failure is imminent. So we pull off and I blow another 44 minutes cutting up a full-sized tire and cramming that sucker in the BOB tire to make a system wheel. I even manage to jam the tube in there, and result in a fairly bombproof trailer tire. I am proud an happy as we roll on down the road. We hit Jokulsarlon where a lagoon is filled with icebergs. We chill and have a coffee until the wind starts raging. At that point, I could hear the Icelandic wind god screaming at us “GO GO GO”, because the wind is at our back. When we’re strapping things on the bike, we’re freezing because of the howling wind, but once we get on the road and hammer along at 3five km/h, it seems so warm and calm because we’re traveling with the wind. It was cool. It gave us power for another 70 k, all the way to Skaftafell.
June 22: Skaftafell to Vik. 14six.3 km, Avg 17.2 km/h
We hiked up to the glacier, touched it, climbed on it, and tasted it (at least I did). Then we looked at the beautiful blue sky and decided TOGETHER to ride on instead of take another day at Skaftafell and bus to Reykjavik. So we got on our bikes and rode off at about noon. The wind was just enough in our faces to make it painful, but not enough to make us give up. So we pedaled along one of the flattest pieces of earth I have ever seen, and make our way along the coast. At six pm, exactly half way, we each ate a pizza, and got back to work. Sometime around 10 pm, it started to rain. In this case, the rain was good, because there was no wind. So we pedaled through the rain, saw a little sun sometime around 11pm, and got into Vik at 12 pm, exactly 12 hours after our start. That was the end of the ride, because we still had 190 km to Reykjavik and wanted to spend at least a day in the city to try and figure it out. So we slept in Vik and got up early to catch the bust to Reykjavik.
June 23: Vik to Reykjavik. Bus.
We were glad we were taking the bus because it kept raining and seemed to get colder. So I didn’t do any complaining when we got on a 7 am, and found ourselves in Reykjavik at 10:30. Cafes and bars were the main activities, with a little hot-tubbing and shopping just for the hell of it. Dinner was at a vegetarian place called Agnastae Grosum, which was absolutely delicious. Why couldn’t there be more gourmet vegetarian cafes out in the middle of nowhere? We found a bar where people actually talked to us, called the Mid Bar. It was probably a gay bar, but we were happy for the interaction. Slept in the rain.
June 24: Reykjavik to home. 24 km total bike distance in Reykjavik.
Coffee and food, then it was off to the bus station to box the bikes. An hour of that and we weaseled our way onto an extremely full bus and made it to the airport. I bought a book of Icelandic Sagas in town, and read it on the plane. I’m glad I didn’t read it before departure, because I would have had a lot of questions for Icelanders. Vikings were jerks. Unfortunately, I probably would have made a fairly good Viking. Down in New York and spent the night in JFK, which sucks. Back to Phoenix by 10 am the following day. Since nobody was home at my place, I just built up my bike in the airport and rode home. I like riding on the 202. If I can ride my ass around Iceland, I can ride on the 202 and everybody can get out of my way. If only I had a Viking hammer.
Biking like a Viking. Total distance 1390 kilometers.