This journey was a turning point, where I finally discovered my destiny as a traveling cyclist and bikepacker. It was the year 2012.
The emotions inside me fluctuate. I go from euphoria to fear in no time—euphoria for a much-desired journey and fear of not making it. The idea of embarking on this journey began in 2008 when, after having bought a guide of cycling routes, I saw the name of the first chapter, ICELAND. To tell the truth, I didn’t even know exactly where Iceland was and what there was to see. Then I started getting informed, reading and seeing photos, and finally, in 2012, the dream was about to come true. The schedule is clear in my head. I want to see everything: Ring Road, West Fiords, Kjolur trail, and the famous Sprengisandur trail. There are more than 3000 km to do in less than a month. Almost impossible, but still, I want to try. Since I decided to leave for this trip, everyone has asked me the same question, but why in Iceland? But what is there to see? Why by bike? Difficult to answer. Tricky, especially for those who are not a lover of nature, to live in contact with the outside world without filters. Some people have never been to the mountains, have never bathed in a storm, and don’t know how beautiful it is to feel lost in the woods. The answer, then, is very simplistic. I told everyone that I go to Iceland “for nature.” However, I don’t know why I went to that place instead of another; it’s as if this destination was calling me. It could be due to the very scarce presence of humans. Three hundred twenty thousand inhabitants live in the 100,000 km2 country, making it the least populated country in Europe. Ultimately, I feel that this is the right place for me because I don’t want to take a vacation this year. I want to go on an adventure, an experience that will stay with me forever.
My equipment is scattered throughout the house, complete with a bicycle, tools, sleeping bag, tent, mess tin, charger, maps, and whatnot. As I pack my bags, I realize more and more how much most of the objects we surround ourselves with are superfluous, not to mention useless. I’m preparing to be away for a month in a cold country, and the gear I’m carrying might be the same gear I’d use for a year away. Everything I need fits on a bicycle. It seems impossible, but I lack for nothing. My house, now made of reinforced concrete, will turn into a tent, my bed into a sleeping bag, and the kitchen into a mess tin. The colossal wardrobe where we all keep tons of clothes will magically turn into a bag. If one were to stop for a moment to reflect on all of this, one could ask oneself if we possess the objects or are the objects possessing us.
Everything is ready, the bike inspected, the luggage completed, the box to pack the bike on the plane found, map of the route loaded on the GPS. The only thing missing is the day of departure, but as if by magic, the closer this moment gets, the more time slows down; this is the magic of waiting for a great trip.
Let’s go! – July 29
Keflavik- Thingvellir
Distance: 96 km
Duration: 5:36 hours
Altitude difference: 760 m
It’s finally there in front of my eyes. It’s all as I imagined, as I had read it on the internet but amplified tenfold. The spaces are unimaginable for an Italian, and the eye can range miles without seeing anything outside the pristine nature.
It’s drizzling like in the most classic of Icelandic days, but I’m galvanized to the max, and nothing can affect the smile on my face.
The arrival, at 3 in the morning (5 in Italy), could be better because during the flight it was impossible to sleep for more than a couple of hours. We dismantled the boxes and reassembled the bicycles and equipment. It’s 4.30 in the morning, and we haven’t rested since last night, but going to sleep doesn’t even cross our minds. The road studied for months is close enough to touch, and we don’t want to linger any longer. We leave the packing boxes for the bikes in the deposit of the Alex Hotel, who will do us the kindness, upon payment of two nights at the campsite, to keep them until our return in a month.
Let’s finally go! I have a stupid smile printed on my face that doesn’t want to go away, and the sense of fulfillment is all-encompassing. The first kilometers melt away instantly, even if the road from Keflavik to Reykjavik could be better due to traffic.
The outskirts of Reykjavik are desolate. The gray of the houses blends in with the sky full of water, and the traffic is bustling. Luckily the emergency lane turns into an excellent cycle path for us adventurers. After the capital, the landscapes are finally as I imagined them, the traffic slows down, and the cycle paths accompany us for many kilometers.
One thing that immediately amazed me was the massive number of cycle tourists. Today alone, I saw about fifty fellow cyclists. In the Thingvellir campsite, we are almost all “of us cycle tourers,” and the atmosphere is amicable. We study each other almost obsessively. We look at what kind of bike we have, what tires, the brand of the bags, and the arrangement of the load. We look like dogs when they smell each other!
I still don’t realize that I’m traveling and have a month’s journey ahead of me and many kilometers to go. This first day was a success from all points of view, and I couldn’t have expected it better.
Gullfoss waterfalls – 30th July
Thingvellir-Gullfoss
Distance: 77 km
Duration: 4:31 hours
Altitude difference: 580 m
Pouring rain and headwinds, this is the wild face of the island. Waking up to this is not the best. A fine and thick rain falls from the sky, and I’m already soaked in five minutes. After a rough breakfast with an (almost) freeze-dried cappuccino that looks like dirty water and some biscuits, we get back on the road. Now the feeling of being on the road is stronger than yesterday. I finally woke up inside my (new) tent and was able to savor the first night of adventure.
The low clouds hide the landscape, but you can imagine the vast spaces around us. The pedaling becomes much easier, but the poor breakfast soon affects my legs; it’s only been a few hours, and I’m already starving like a wolf. The climate certainly doesn’t help, I went from the scorching Italian summer to an autumn climate in a very short time, and my body needs to find its balance again.
Once in Laugarvatn, there is finally a fast food with a mini market inside. Now I can satisfy my inexorable hunger with a typical Icelandic dish, hamburger, and chips!
Fortunately, the weather improves, and at Geysir, a beautiful sun comes out of the clouds and warms our soaked bodies. The local hosts cheer us up, coincidentally, a park full of geysers, one of which spews mighty columns of water every eight minutes exactly. Here nature is more precise than a Swiss watch.
Once in Gullfoss, the spectacle of the mass of water falling into the cliff is embellished by the rainbow that forms on the spray. Today is a fantastic day, one of those that are rarely seen around here.
The natural site is overrun by hundreds of tourists who get off the massive buses. It’s funny to see this type of tourist, those who have bought the all-inclusive holiday package. They are dragged all day up and down the island. As soon as they get off the bus, they all run to the bathroom because only God knows how long it will take them to see another one again. Then they start taking pictures in bursts with one eye on the lens and the other on the clock to ensure they aren’t late for the restart. I observe the funny skit, repeated by each group, comfortably lying on the grass, with a view of the waterfall, while I cook myself a snack with the mess tin. I am finally in complete control of my life.
We get back on the bike and head towards the desert on the F35, but the panorama on the horizon is not the most comforting. A storm of galactic dimensions is arriving. There’s no need to continue and enter the storm, we’re only at the beginning, and today we’ve already done our dose of daily kilometers.
I immediately returned to Gullfoss in the shelter of the restaurant while all hell broke loose outside. We decide to camp on the waterfalls, and finally, given the time, the spectacle of nature is all for our eyes only, with front-row seats from our tents.
F 35 – Kjolur 31 July
Gullfoss – Refuge
Distance: 77 km
Duration: 4:31 hours
Altitude difference: 950 m
A blessed but wet awakening. Although the sky is extraordinarily clear, it is raining heavily on our tents… it is the good morning of the waterfall sending us its sprays.
For breakfast, we wait for the bar next to the waterfall to open; there are lots of freshly baked rolls ready to be eaten with lots of butter and jam. In hindsight, I may have overindulged, but I will surely burn many more calories than I just consumed today.
The day is fantastic, and the adrenaline is high. Finally, the desert is in front of us. The panorama is terrific, thanks to the sun kissing our faces, and in the distance, we can see the glacier that will keep us company for the whole day. Very soon, the asphalt gives way to the dirt road, and the feeling of adventure becomes even stronger.
Soon the track reveals itself for what it is, tough, very tough. The state of conservation of the road is increasingly poor, and after a few kilometers, we meet what will become our worst enemy, the gutters. Said like this, it doesn’t seem like a big problem, but just pedaling for ten minutes on this terrain, and you risk your nerves. The cause of this phenomenon is the Jeeps that pass at high-speed that shape the road, creating these continuous bumps. They are very annoying, and my line is a constant zig-zagging left and right on the side of the road to avoid them.
However, everything is repaid by the spectacle that surrounds us. Two glaciers, one on the right and one on the left, keep us company. The hills rise and fall and always give us new landscapes.
No photo and no story can genuinely do justice to the vision I have before my eyes, and I can only assimilate as much as possible in my head to keep a clear memory. I feel like a true adventurer, and I have 180 km of the track ahead of me to tackle only with the strength of my legs and my head. The numerous cyclists we have met so far have disappeared, demonstrating that this is not a place for everyone but only for those who really want to get involved.
Finally, exhausted after 75km in the middle of the desert, we head to a refuge to have dinner and sleep. Outside, the temperature is really low, and the wind blows hard. It would have been a hard night to spend in a tent.
F 35 – Kjolur Second part – 1st August
Refuge – Hunaver
Distance: 113 km
Duration: 8:58 hours
Altitude difference: 914 m
We are in the middle of the F35, also known as Kjolur, and today we intend to reach the Ring Road.
The road resumes as we left it yesterday, even if now the scenery is made a fairytale by the thick fog that obscures our view.
The fight with the road surface starts again right away. The bumps are devastating for getting into a pedaling rhythm, and avoiding them involves a significant expenditure of energy and patience. The luggage racks are tested, but the load does not seem to create too many problems for now, and the driving stability is decidedly good. I’m happy with the choice of having also mounted the front luggage rack. Although the luggage fit comfortably only on the back, this choice allowed me to “balance” the bicycle, avoiding the annoying phenomenon of rearing uphill.
The landscape slowly changes, the glaciers get out of my sight, and the rough and bare terrain becomes more and more brilliant green. Fortunately, even the road surface changes for the better, although the headwind seems determined not to give up.
The road is continuous ups and downs. The gradients are not significant, but in the long run, the legs, already put to the test, accrue the fatigue of the kilometers covered.
A storm is bearing down on Iceland, but contrary to what you might imagine, it’s sunny. Thinking about it, we immediately realized that the sun here differs from the one that kisses the skin on our peninsula. I have the strange sensation of being at an altitude of 4000 m. When it comes out of the clouds, it seems like it’s kicking your face, and the temperature difference between an area in the shade and one in the sun is significant. Looking at it, it looks just like ours. Ultimately, we are the country of the sun, and it would be logical to think that it is less powerful here, on the border with the Arctic Circle. The ozone hole is to blame, a phenomenon we are lucky enough to know only through the news. Global warming causes the ozone layer, which acts as a filter for ultraviolet radiation, to be very thin and significantly reduces its protective effect.
Two days under the sun are enough to find my face burned. I didn’t think that I needed sunscreen in Iceland.
Fatigue sets in, but there is no change of refuge up to the N1 road. The kilometers are still a long way to go. Moreover, we are inside a bank of clouds, and the cold and humidity are considerable. All that remains is to grit your teeth and carry on even though you don’t have the slightest idea of what the road to your destination might be like. This is one of the aspects that distinguishes traveling by bicycle; the only person who can help you while you are traveling is yourself.
Finally, after 115 km, 90 of which is on dirt roads, we arrive at the campsite, a school that welcomes tourists in the summer. The girl who manages the site makes us sit in the cafeteria, where there is a stage for performances. To our surprise, she arranged our mattresses on stage. Tonight there will be good snorers show!!
Direction fjords – 2nd August
Hunaver – Hvammstangi
Distance: 92 km
Duration: 5:01 hours
Altitude difference: 554 m
Luckily today was supposed to be a cool-down stage, 90 km of continuous ups and downs, many of which were against the wind.
The wind here is a sort of God or Demon for the cyclist, depending on whether it is for or against you. The distances between one place and another are never defined as the wind variable is fundamental. Even 20 km of flat asphalt can become torture when the wind is against it, and vice versa; with the wind in favor, the kilometers flow under the wheels without even realizing it.
You realize you are close to the western fjords, the vast valleys have given way to narrower and more excavated valleys, the temperature has dropped, and you can see the sea.
We head west, and the West Fjords are waiting for us. It’s amazing how landscapes can change so quickly; this island gives us breathtaking scenery daily. A few pedal strokes are enough, and around every bend, it is possible to appreciate a landscape that is always different and always amazing.
Unfortunately, being on the N1 Road, the main connecting road in Iceland, the traffic is hard to ignore. 60% of the population drives off-road vehicles with massive tires, which would be illegal here. I hear cars coming from a couple of kilometers away from the noise they make, and when they pass me, I often stagger due to the movement of air. I’m already starting to miss the solitude of the desert.
Hvammstangi is a lovely little town, and it’s a pity that the only guest house present is full. We head to the hotel, or rather the structure with the inscription hotel, which in Italy would have the inscription “dive.” At the request of 120 euros each, without even breakfast, we decide that tonight we will sleep peacefully in our super luxury tents at the town’s campsite for free. I still don’t quite understand how these campsites work; there is no reception, they don’t ask for documents, and so far, we haven’t put out a euro or a crown!
Bordeyri, the gateway to the Westfjords – August 3rd
Hvammstangi – Bordeyri
Distance: 45 km
Duration: 3:05 hours
Altitude difference: 290 m
I’m sitting writing in a beautiful guest house and looking out the window at the scenery of the Westfjords. The moment of the day has come when I can relax. The wind has burned my face, and the sun and the accumulated tiredness are starting to make themselves felt.
Today was marked by the first mechanical failure, a spoke of the rear wheel breaking off. Fortunately, a mechanic could disassemble my sprocket set and put on the new spoke. It was very fortunate to have found someone to help me because there are few inhabitants here, and those few only sometimes have a mechanic available.
The kilometers traveled weren’t many; my legs need to rest. Today I dedicate myself to resting and washing clothes. We have a whole house at our disposal and will spend the time in total relaxation.
The proximity of the fjords is felt very well; the cars have almost disappeared from the road. The area where we will spend the next ten days is not only the least populated in Iceland but also the least frequented by Icelanders and tourists.
In the distance, I can see the mountains still covered in snow; several days of climbs and beautiful places are ahead.
We’ve only been here for a few days, but I feel like I’ve been here for a month.
August 4th
Bordeyri – Holmavik
Distance: 104 km
Duration: 6:30 hours
Altitude difference: 1055 m
We immediately realize that the fjords are not a walk in the park. There is nothing in this part of the island, and for lunch, we have to settle for cooking something on a beach by the sea. I don’t know how much I would have paid for a nice plate of penne with tomato sauce…
More new landscapes ahead of us.
The morning started well with the sighting of a curious seal that started swimming in front of us. Unfortunately, by the time it took to realize it had already gone away, I’m sure there will be an opportunity to meet these beautiful animals again.
Traffic is almost non-existent, even less than we encountered in the desert. Around us, there is the usual nature but enriched by the presence of the sea. In the evening, we arrive in Holmavik, and finally, we can have a proper meal. We sit at the table and order the extensive buffet menu, unlimited meat and fish. Although the bill is very expensive, we saved a lot of food from going to the garbage!
August 5th
Holmavik – Hotel Reykjanes
Distance: 91 km
Duration: 5:02 hours
Altitude difference: 670 m
We are in the heart of the West Fiords. There is not the slightest sign of man around us. The road runs fast under the wheels until, suddenly, the wind picks up. It’s logical, one side of the fjord is with a headwind (the first), and the other with a tailwind.
At lunchtime, we stop to eat on a small beach since there is not the slightest possibility of finding a restaurant or something ready-made. The stove comes to my aid, particularly the noodles, the “Chinese spaghetti,” which has the advantage of costing very little (80 cents) and cooks in just 3 minutes.
After eating, a loud sound catches my attention; a whale is jumping in the middle of the sea. A unique show I have never seen before. It feels like a documentary on television, but instead, everything is real before my eyes. The whale remains to continue the show for a good ten minutes before disappearing under the water. The sighting was worth all the effort of these days; what luck!
Finally, the road is over for today, too, and we can enjoy a nice dip in an outdoor hot water pool.
August 6th
Hotel Reykjanes – Isafjordur
Distance: 137 km
Duration: 8:02 hours
Altitude difference: 780 m
When a stage becomes obligatory, you always have that unpleasant fear of not making it, of not having the legs to reach your destination. Today with a scheduled stage of 140km, I had this feeling all day until I finally arrived in this big town called Isafjordur.
The alarm goes off early, and there are many kilometers to go. Although the climbs on paper are few and have low gradients, the wind scares you. One side of the fjord is always against the wind, and the other is always with it. The wind blows from the land towards the sea, and therefore it is the first side that is scary. Against the wind, the average drops to 13 km/h, and the flat kilometers become uphill. A martyrdom repeated four times today, just like four, is the number of fjords we have encountered. Fortunately, today’s stage was the most spectacular from a landscape point of view, and this helped a lot to bear the many hours on the saddle. At the end of the day, it will be 9.
If the other day was whale day, today is seal day. I arrived at the top of the fjord, and the emotion is great when I see a large group of seals peacefully sunbathing on the rocks. There are many specimens, and there are also the little ones, and all of them are relaxing in the sun. I take the camera in my hand, and of course, I approach discreetly to take some pictures of them. I feel like the photographers on a National Geographic expedition! These are the moments you don’t expect, and that lift your spirits, making you forget the tiredness and pain in your legs.
With the last effort, we arrive at Isafjordur, the “capital” of the West Fiords. The odometer shows 138 km. Tap. The town isn’t that great, because compared to ours it has no historical center and the buildings are placed haphazardly. The guest houses are all occupied, so we must fall back to the Edda Hotel. It’s the first night we pay to pitch the tent; this money has never been worse spent. To put it politely, the campsite is a simple meadow close to the road, with a paid shower and dirty toilets. The cost is exorbitant considering that it is for overnight stays only and this establishment in Italy would be a two-star hotel. This time, luck turned away from us.
August 7 – Isafjordur
Today is finally the first actual day of relaxation, I’m sitting on the sofas in the Edda Hotel lobby, and I’ll stay here for most of the day. After yesterday’s stage, my legs are in pieces, and I don’t want to do anything to weigh them down.
In many respects, this nation is very different from our Italy. On the one hand, I expected it; we are in Northern Europe, a land of rigor, order, and “civilization.” However, many peculiarities left me almost embarrassed…
Let’s start with the campsites. Wild camping in Iceland is allowed by law, but no one does it (unless necessary) because equipped campsites are almost all free. They consist of a beautiful English-style lawn equipped with services and sometimes even an indoor room for cooking. Icelanders use this type of accommodation a lot for their holidays.
Trees. Very simple; there are none. I still need to understand why there are no trees here; the only ones present are very few and have evidently been planted by man. The vegetation is meager and made up of shrubs.
Water. There are no (or almost) water bottles, not even in supermarkets. Here everyone drinks tap water. However, there are not even fountains on the street, but it is not a huge problem since you can ask inside the buildings. In the desert, they even drink river water! No filters or anything else, just a pump that draws water. Not having any kind of pollution, not even from animals, the water is very pure (it comes from the glacier) and delicious.
Food. Very interesting topic here. 99% of Icelanders have a complicated relationship with food. They are almost all obese. At first glance, it seems to be like in the USA. They are always eating at any hour of the day or night, and although their cuisine is excellent, even with little choice, they are always refugees in the fast-food restaurants that are everywhere.
Clothes. All women, I repeat ALL the women wear black spindles, even though they are not mermaids… Since it is also August and summer, they feel compelled to go around with their arms out and in summer clothes despite the fact that here it is 12 degrees in the sun. The other day, while we were all dressed up and there was a teething arctic wind, many kids were having fun on the slides of an outdoor pool… Icelandic stuff!
Sheep. There are an endless variety of these animals. Many prefer to graze the seaweed on the beach rather than the grass in the meadows.
August 8th
Isafjordur – Something waterfall
Distance: 90 km
Duration: 7:21 hours
Altitude difference: 1400 m
And bus it is. On paper, the stage is not impossible, and even today, I really don’t feel like doing 130km. I prefer to spend the day taking a leisurely tour of the capital; it’s worth it, who knows if one day I will ever be able to return.
I didn’t expect the bus driver to want to scam me; instead, it happened. When he saw me with the bike, he immediately asked me for money, saying that transporting my bike in the hold for only 70 km cost 3,000 crowns (about 20 euros). Yesterday I asked two drivers and a barmaid, and they all told me that transporting the bike costs 2,000 crowns, 1,000 crowns less. That bastard is so convinced that the voices are almost starting to rise, but I’m impassive; I certainly didn’t come from Italy to be robbed by him. Ultimately, I win, and to cover just 70 km, I spend 4400 crowns (2000 for the bike and 2200 for the passenger), 30 euros.
Rejkyavik is really beautiful, well kept, with beautiful colored houses and finally beautiful people. Now I have the feeling of being in Northern Europe.
As soon as I open the guide, I immediately understand where I will eat, “old style” hamburgers and the famous hot dog also eaten by Bill Clinton. My hunger for fast food will be satiated. To tell the truth, the food frenzy of the Icelanders has infected me; here I am always with my mouth full, and the food they swallow is undoubtedly not very healthy. However, the large bodies of the past few days are slimmer, and it is evident that in the city, people pay more attention to their figures. There are even gyms!
The campsite is located about two kilometers from the city, but thanks to the bike and a dense network of cycle paths, you can get anywhere instantly.
The respect that cars have towards pedestrians and bicycles is palpable; as soon as you approach the pedestrian crossing (the cycle path is located along the wide sidewalks), the cars stop, and you can pass in complete tranquility, just like in Italy…!
This place is making a very good impression on me. I’m happy with my choice to spend one more day in the city.
Today we outdid ourselves, we needed to give something more, and we did it. Today Iceland showed us its wildest and most feared face, and nature slapped us in the face and forced us to play an unequal game all day long.
The departure from Isafjordur is under a beautiful sun, but immediately the weather worsens. The days spent under a scorching sun are just distant memory. Now the wind has picked up, and the rain is pouring down.
As soon as we pass the tunnel, the wind dominates the scene so much that we have to pedal on a 10% descent to keep our balance. It’s only the beginning. The direction of the stage is South, and the wind blows towards the North. The average speed on the flat is 7/8 km/h, and you have to push on the pedals.
We face the first real climb of the tour in a Dantesque cyclist’s group situation. Gradients of 10%, dirt road, headwind with gusts up to 70 km/h, and pouring rain. The 500 m difference in height becomes an ordeal; at the top of the pass, we meet snow, and the wind is even stronger. I’m soaking wet, and my hands hurt from how cold they are.
At the bottom of the slope, we head inside the museum cafe, the tea room is ours. It’s raining outside, and the wind doesn’t stop. We try in vain to convince the lady of the museum to let us sleep inside the large structure, but she doesn’t accept and reassures us by saying that at the waterfalls, which are very close, there is “good camping,” we trust them and leave. The very close… stands for 25 km of dirt road, against the wind, in the rain, and several mountain bike climbs. When we arrived at the “good camping,” we discover that it is made up of a meadow with a bathroom. It’s raining and windy; we’re soaked and must eat. Fortunately, we are people of spirit, so we equip the only room indoors for cooking, the bathroom. It could be better, but we do it right. Needs must!
Today was a very tough day, one that puts you to the test. The head counted more than the legs, and despite everything, we held on and went on. So good!
August 9th
You fall “something”…. – Road 62
Distance: 45 km
Duration: 4:00 hours
Difference in altitude: 870 m
The start is under heavy rain, but it could be worse since my clothes are still wet from yesterday. Immediately the climb awaits us, and this time it is also quite long, 800 m in altitude, to cross a fjord.
The wind is constant and always contrary. The average gradient is 10%, but with this wind, even the mountain bike seems to of had enough. The head then lowers and looks at the legs that hardly turn. Concentration is at its best because the gusts become diagonal, and you risk falling. You just have not to give up even if everything is extremely difficult. Once we get to the top, the wind is even stronger, we are more exposed, and then it is no longer possible to pedal, we risk falling. The bike must be dragged to the top by push. Although the altitude is only 500 m above sea level, it seems to be at 2000 m, the cold is biting, and the part of the face exposed to the elements loses sensitivity. We still can’t see the descent, and I’m soaked, wet, and muddy from head to toe.
We arrived on the main road at the end of the descent, and a restaurant awaits us. The waitresses look at us strangely, but how can we blame them since we are three dirty cyclists, soaked, covered in mud, and maybe even a little smelly? In the end, however, we are travelers, and this status still allows us to sit quietly at the table without having too many problems.
The stage is over for today. The guest house is only 8 km from here. Even though today was challenging, we didn’t give up. What is certain is that Iceland is now scary, you can’t joke with time.
August 10th
Guesthouse Strada 62
Distance: 150 km
Duration: 8:45 hours
Altitude difference: 2000 m
We study the map, from our accommodation to the cliff with the famous birds that allow themselves to approach (puffins) it is “only” 160 km round trip. Luggage would stay in the room. It may seem risky since there are two pretty tough climbs (to be done twice) and many ups and downs. It’s actually very risky. What we don’t know is that it will be much worse.
When the alarm goes off, it’s raining outside, and a crazy wind is blowing, although I don’t want to get on the saddle in this weather with at least 10 hours of cycling ahead, I let myself be convinced.
The wind doesn’t stop beating us in the face, and the sky doesn’t let us hope for anything good. The road becomes a dirt road, and the weather conditions worsen. The first climb, the hardest, is now behind us, and we are now in the hole, so we just have to continue. As we continue, the wind becomes more and more powerful until we can no longer stay in the saddle. We are soaked, wet, and cold, we decide to go a few more kilometers to arrive at the only bar in the area at a distance of kilometers.
We are drenched, I’m all wet from head to toe, and we are 70 km from base. It is certainly not a good situation, we are trapped, and it is impossible to continue, and therefore, discouraged, we decide to go back. Upwind. The situation is deadly, but when you are on a bicycle, you have no alternative, you can only keep pedaling. I arrive at the guesthouse exhausted, the odometer shows 150 km and 2000 m in altitude. Too much, even for someone like me who is ready to deal with this harsh land.
The first real setback has arrived, but defeats are also part of a journey, indeed, they make everything more exciting. Today she won, tomorrow we’ll see.
August 11th
Guesthouse Strada 62 – Guesthouse Strada 62
Distance: 50 km
Duration: 3:03 hours
Altitude difference: 316 m
Today a day of semi-relaxation, the program is to take the 12:15 ferry, which avoids us having to travel 100 km of a hectic road. After yesterday, this break is a panacea for my sore legs.
Once off the ferry, we get on the saddle, and although there are only 50 kilometers that separate us from the campsite, they are all against the wind. We’ve been pedaling against the wind for four days, and now I’m really bored. There’s nothing more frustrating for a cyclist than putting a lot of effort into pedaling, knowing that after that, there isn’t even a descent. But this is Iceland, you can’t consider yourself arrived until you pitch your tent, even if on paper there are only 10 km left.
Groundfjordur is the first real pretty town we visited, very characteristic and set in a natural environment reminiscent of Jurassic Park. It’s Saturday night here, but despite this, there isn’t much life around. How sad to see these kids eating pizza in this desolation. Come to think of it, it’s not a place I’d like to live all year round. In these moments, I understand how lucky I am to live in Italy.
The wind doesn’t drop, but luckily today we didn’t get rain, after four days, this is good news.
August 12th
Grundafjordur – Arnarstapavegur
Distance: 72 km
Duration: 5:10 hours
Altitude difference: 591 m
Wind and rain. Here we go again. What irritates me the most, however, is not being wet all day from head to toe or pedaling with the wind in my face and putting up a lot of effort, the crucial point lies in not being able to see anything that surrounds me. Today we covered 80 km without being able to see anything except the endless lava fields around us. The Snaefellsnes peninsula is called Iceland in miniature; who knows if it is accurate? Even though I’ve covered it all, I can’t judge it.
For now, we have tasted the famous fish soup cooked by the wives of the fishermen of Rif, which is really excellent.
We are now in Arnarstapi, in the Guest House in the village. We were lucky to find a place to sleep with a roof over our heads because it continues to rain here, and camping in the tent would have been a tragedy. Finally, we can dry the clothes, and tomorrow I will be able to put on non-wet shoes!
August 13th
Arnarstapavegur – Borgarnes
Distance: 118 km
Duration: 5:50 hours
Altitude difference: 458 m
Finally, the kilometers pass quickly, the wind is on our side this time. Double luck because, in this stage, there is very little to see. In the end, we will cover 140 km.
It’s a pleasure to see an average of 22 km per hour on the GPS, it was frustrating to struggle like hell and not be able to travel that far.
We are now in Borgarnes, a stone’s throw from the capital. I can’t wait to visit Reykjavik. The town is quite large compared to those we have left behind, and fortunately, the intercity bus line passes, I know so much that tomorrow I avoid going 110 km and take the bus, so I can stay one more day to relax.
The fatigue accumulated is not so much in my legs, but in my head, I feel the need to take a break and recharge my batteries. We will see.
The campsite is located in the city in a very picturesque place, and finally, we can see the sunset. Being further south, the hours of darkness have increased, and there is almost no light at midnight.
14 August-15 August
Borgarnes–Rejkyavik
Journey by bus
14 August-15 August
Auto
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Even before we set out, it was obvious that seeing all of Iceland by bike in less than a month would be impossible. The idea is this, take a rental car and visit the south and east of the island until you get to Akureyry, get back on our bikes, and ride the famous desert track, the F26, also called Sprengisandur. It is a necessary evil, but we cannot do otherwise.
The trunk of the car bursts from the load, and we were just able to fit three bikes and all the luggage in it besides us, of course.
It’s strange to see a “colleague” on a bicycle while sitting comfortably in a car with all the comforts. We are almost ashamed. The kilometers run very fast, and the landscapes are countless, but in the end, it seems as if you haven’t seen anything. Between me and the outside world is that damned glass that makes everything seem muffled. The speed is too fast to savor the road.
There was no other solution, and in two days, we are in the northern capital, ready for the new adventure. The legs have rested, and the desire to pedal is through the roof.
August 18th
Akureyry – Laugafell
Distance: 84km
Duration: 5:52 hours
Altitude difference: 1212m
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What a great feeling to be back in the saddle. After two days in the car, even my butt hurt, much better to be in my saddle!
Today we are serious. The infamous F26 awaits us, the real road in the middle of the desert, the wildest and most inaccessible.
After the first 40 km of asphalt, the road becomes dirt, and the climb begins to drag. The narrow valley of glacial origin in which we pedal is getting narrower and narrower. It almost feels like it’s sucking us in. Fortunately, the wind is in favor as if to push us into the trap of the desert.
The road is deserted, and the surface is really bumpy. It feels like pedaling inside a river bed, and in fact, we often pedal in the water that invades the driveway. The horses in the wild run alongside us as we pass, a unique emotion. As always, the scenery is like a movie.
I agree in saying that this road is in worse shape than the Kjolur, here, you need a MTB and one of those ready to take some good shots. You must arrange luggage carefully, many climbs have slopes of up to 20%, and the road surface could be better. It is no coincidence that I am forced to get off to push the bicycle a couple of times.
The ascent takes a long time, from sea level, it rises to 950 m. Despite all the tribulation, the legs go by themselves, and the atmosphere distracts the thought from the effort. In the shortest time, I find myself at the top of the plateau, the boys are left behind. My feet are soaked and frozen; in the last fjord, I slipped and ended up in the water up to my legs, but it wasn’t necessary.
I find myself alone on a plateau that looks like the surface of the moon. Nothing can be seen on the horizon, not even a car has passed. There’s me, the bike, and this lighter strip of land that represents the track. The wind is on my side, and kilometers go fast, too fast for a landscape that should be contemplated for hours and hours.
Today alone is worth the ticket price, this is travel as I understand it. Everything is perfect except that my feet no longer feel cold. Luckily I manage to get a nice “strong” hot chocolate as the owner says, inside I think there is more vodka (or similar) than milk. For me, who hasn’t drunk alcohol for weeks and has been on an empty stomach since this morning, it’s like a land-to-air missile that explodes in my brain.
Before dinner, we allow ourselves a real luxury, taking a nice hot bath in a natural pool of hot water…. simply fantastic!
Now we’re camped in front of the shelter, there’s a good wind outside, and it’s really cold. Tired but happy, I fall asleep.
August 19th
Laugafell – Nyidalur
Distance: 50 km
Duration: 5:32 hours
Altitude difference: 488 m
Damn, it’s cold tonight! We are at an altitude of 800m, and my sleeping bag for 0° was just enough. The wind didn’t let up, but luckily I was able to rest. Today on paper, it’s only about fifty kilometers, but you shouldn’t take anything for granted in the desert.
Today is the day of fjords; three full rivers await us.
The road is a succession of ups and downs, we are going in the direction of the F26, and there are no cars on the horizon. The wind is beating in my face, and the average speed is really low. You never arrive when traveling at an average speed of 6 km/h, and you have no choice but to pedal and hope that the road changes direction as soon as possible.
Arrived on the F26, the road finally turned 90°, and the wind becomes favorable, the downside is that being very well used, it is severely damaged. One hole after another, the bicycle is put to the test together with the cyclist’s patience. The cars are now much more frequent, but not even the shadow of other cyclists.
The first fjord is hidden behind the bend. Unlike the other rivers we have crossed on the saddle of the bicycle or taken advantage of some protruding stones, this is a real river, clearly fed by the nearby glacier. The water is freezing. Although the temperature is no more than 10° and the wind is constant, we take off our shoes and trousers and put on sandals. Unfortunately, we have to get wet. Going into the water is devastating, and my feet feel like so many pins that pierce me, and the current tries to drag my bicycle away from me. In the middle of the river, it’s knee-deep in water, and I have my dry bags to thank if my stuff stays dry.
Before arriving at our refuge, there will be two more fjords of the day.
Once we get to the shelter, we start cooking something hot since we’ve been soaking all day, and despite being August, it’s freezing cold. There are no places to sleep indoors, so we have to pitch the tents tonight as well.
While we wait to sleep, the sun disappears behind the glacier, turning the sky pink. Even today, we struggled a lot, but ultimately we got where we wanted.
August 20th
Laugafell – in the middle of nowhere..
Distance: 84 km
Duration: 7:00 hours
Elevation gain: 817 m
The third day of the march. Let’s start again on the track, which, instead of improving, gets worse and worse. It would be almost a torment if it weren’t for the breathtaking views.
Luckily the wind is in our favor, and the sky, ten minutes of rain aside, seems to grace us. The road is continuous ups and downs that give us unforgettable views. We are in the middle of the desert, and here the sand has formed natural dunes. It seems incredible to me to really be in this remote place.
Unlike F35, there are now few rivers; the ones we cross don’t have very clear water. For lunch, however, I still boil some water taken from a stream in my mess tin, hoping it doesn’t poison my noodles, which by now have become the typical lunch dish.
The kilometers proceed with difficulty, but our water and food supplies are scarce. When finally a roof appears in front of us, here’s the bitter surprise, it’s closed. In the Touring guide to Europe by bicycle, it is written that it is possible to buy food in addition to staying overnight. The reality is that it has been about three years since it went private. No water, no food, and no shelter. Bad, very bad. We are in the middle of the desert, and I find myself with 40 cl of water (and thirsty to die for), a can of tuna, a slice of bread, a little honey, and 5 cubes of chocolate. After tackling 80 km of dirt road with 80 g of noodles in my belly, I have to have dinner and breakfast, and I should have enough strength to get to the first service station tomorrow.
We continue, our legs are fine, and it makes no sense to stay here. In about fifty kilometers, there should be the infamous service station.
We decide to camp for the night near the road and pitch our tents in the middle of nowhere. It’s freezing cold outside, and it’s starting to rain. I allow myself to indulge in the slice of bread and the tuna.
August 21st
In the middle of nowhere.. – Arnesi
Distance: 81 km
Duration: 3:39 hours
Altitude difference: 289 m
At three in the morning, I wake up with stomach cramps from hunger, and then I decide to eat the last things I have, chocolate with honey. As luck would have it, I can also find a bar in my bags, but I’m keeping it for when I’ll ride.
At six, I’m too hungry and decide to go to the gas station while the boys are still in their tents.
I’m sitting down to eat a slice of cake that seems to be the best of my life, I’ve finally washed my hands and teeth and can sit comfortably sheltered from the weather. The desert is behind us, three days and a little more to cross it.
We allow ourselves a nice break, we have lunch with the most classic of hamburgers with fried egg and fries. Finally!
The stage proceeds smoothly, wind at your back and 600 m of difference in altitude to be exploited downhill, an absolute godsend.
August 22nd
Tools – Porklakshofn
Distance: 73 km
Duration: 3:27 hours
Altitude difference: 87 m
Unfortunately, we know the journey is over. Bucket list items are all ticked, F 26 done, West Fiords done, and F 35 done. We just have to wait for Saturday to catch the plane. Ultimately, we have two days left, so we must lengthen the broth and make the most of the time we have left.
Despite the rain and the wind against us, it feels like a walk in the park, with no more fjords to overcome, hills to climb, or ruined road surface to navigate, our bikes glide along the asphalt like locomotives. The beautiful rural landscapes no longer attract us like the first days, after we have seen the island’s beauties, these landscapes fade into the background.
We head south to avoid the busy Ring Road, and as we pedal, we know that the holiday is winding down. The kilometers go by quickly, and although at the end of the day, we cover 80 km, it seems as if you have done nothing all day. What a pleasure to be trained. I can’t wait to go home to compare myself with the classic training routes and see the improvements.
The days have shortened, it will soon be September, and I can finally admire the famous Icelandic sunsets. When the sun goes below the horizon line, the whole sky turns pink, first only a part, then everything takes on color.
At this point, I almost find pleasure in the idea of not going home to the chaos of work and the mass of people and things that animate the lives of us super-busy Westerners. It will be quite a bump compared to the month spent in the middle of nowhere. There will also be another big hit to overcome, the temperature. Going from 10 degrees to 40 will certainly not be pleasant. We’ll see.
23 August – End of the holiday
Porklakshofn – Reykjavik
Distance: 78 km
Duration: 4:08 hours
Altitude difference: 561 m
When you think the journey is over and you have seen everything, this place amazes you again. The road is the 42, the one that passes next to the Kleifarvatn lake, which is nothing short of magnificent. The dirt road winds through a desert scene, with fine black sand in contrast with the blue of the lake. Here you must never get distracted from the moment. The photos overflow, and being at the end of the adventure shouldn’t detract from where we are. This place is not mentioned in any guide, but I highly recommend seeing it, moreover, you also avoid the very busy Road No. 1 to get to Reykjavik.
The legs do everything by themselves, and the eighty kilometers that separate us from the capital are swept away in a few hours. I have an enviable physical shape!
Back to the campsite, now all that remains is to wait to catch the plane, but in the meantime, I can be a tourist and overindulge in food. Despite having eaten like a wolf for a whole month and having significantly increased the muscle mass of my legs, I lost two kilos of weight, what a satisfaction!
