Instead of trying to track down a cardboard bike box in Berlin, I opted for wrapping my bike whole in industrial Saran Wrap, along with foam pipe insulation and some bubble wrap padding that I bought at a Bauhaus (German for Home Depot) in the Berlin suburbs. There were several benefits to this approach: I could take the city train to the airport with packing materials in tow; I didn't have the headache of locating a bike box (although it turned out there were several large bike shops near my hostel); and the hope that baggage handlers would be more gentle with a whole bike rather than a cumbersome box.
It worked out just fine and I arrived at the airport in Keflavik where I started this journey 3 months earlier. Cold and very blustery, it was also dark when I arrived around 1am... the first time I'd ever experienced darkness in Iceland. I unwrapped my bike outside the terminal and pedaled away from the airport. It's not everywhere that you can ride literally 2mi from an international airport and pitch your tent on the side of the road, completely legally and without the slightest hassle. Luckily I found some shrubs to block the incessant winds.
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| the last campsite |
My flight to Denver left the following evening, so I killed some time back at the Kaffir coffeeshop where I'd spent my first afternoon in early June. It was a weird feeling to be familiar with an obscure town like Keflavik- comforting, but solemn to know my fantastic 3 month journey was about to end. Coincidentally I ran into a German cyclist who was just beginning his own month long tour of Iceland; we shared coffee and conversation until he set off onto the road and I to the airport.
Some really cook views of southeastern Greenland from the airplane:
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| Greenland |
And seven hours later I was back in the familiar confines of the Denver International Airport as the sun set behind the lovely Rocky Mountains.
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