A summery summary

I feel a little self conscious about waxing poetic on the virtues of my trip, of a meandering life on the road, a simple life on the bike, of experiencing foreign countries, etc etc... so I'll keep it to myself. It's been great, and I can't wait to get back on the road. For now, it's back to Colorado for September loveliness and a visit to my family in the midwest come October.

All in all:
90 days
4050mi
75 nights camping
15 nights indoors
6 countries

Cheers to the best summer so far! And here's to more adventures to come.

A solemn goodbye: Iceland redux [9/3-9/4]

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.

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:

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.

Into the Tourist Den: Golden Circle > Keflavik [6/30-7/04 - 230mi]

I left Gardur's farm overloaded with frozen Icelandic meat products and headed towards the famous tourist destination of The Golden Circle. Near enough to Reykjavik for convenient day trips, the area is swarming with tourists and their large coach busses. Alas, the items on most of their checklists are Geysir (yes, a geyser- but the english word "geyser" stems from the Icelandic location.) Geysir itself only spouts every hundred years or so, albeit very impressively; however there is a small fountain right next to it that spits up a flume of water every 10-20min. Nearby is Gullfoss, a massive 3-tiered waterfall. Deciding that I would avoid the masses and tempted by the idea of leaving my gear at the campsite for the 14mi round trip ride, I made the journey to Gullfoss around 1am and literally had the place to myself. Finally there is Pingvatn- Iceland's largest lake and the nearby village of Pingvalla that is the historic site of the first Parlimentary assembly in Europe.
Geysir had all the makings of a tourist trap, but Gullfoss was very impressive.

Gullfoss

 

 

 

And then it rained- amazingly, for almost a month in Iceland I had avoided the rain except for a few brief showers. Today was not so lucky and I rode for hours in a cold steady rain. Despite this, I detoured 12mi extra to see Pingvatn. As you can see, the view was tremendously worthwhile:

Another day riding along the southern coast out to Grindlavik, I found a fantastic campsite perched on the cliffs above a black sand cove and listened to the crashing waves as I cooked up Gundar's shark fillets for a late night dinner.

near Grindlavik

My final day led me to the famous Blue Lagoon Hotspring Resoprt, which they are quick to point out is ranked as one of the 25 Wonders of the Wolrd by National Geographic, with prices to match.
ljgh

outside Blue Lagoon... you'll have to see inside for yourself.... if you dare

The entire experience felt like being part of a sci-fi movie: after ponying up the $45 entry fee, they give you a microship encoded bracelet that is both your locker key and expense account for whatever fantastic goods and services you want to indulge in. Massage? Beauty products derived from their silica mud? An overpriced beer in the pool from the Tiki Bar? Have at it all, just scan your wrist....

The surroundings were just as eery- turquoise blue pool backed by jagged black lava speckled hills, a steamy geothermal powerplant off to the side, hoards of people soaking while their faces are caked with the white silica skin elixer. I couldn't decide if this was paradise or a high-end concentration camp. But if you go all the way to Iceland, you kinda have to go to the Blue Lagoon.

I made it out alive and back to my original campground near the Keflavik airport to retrieve my bike box and pack up for the next phase of my trip.

goodbye Iceland, you have sure been good to me!

A rainfall, a windfall [ferry > Landeyjassandur -- 13mi ]

I was killing come time over coffee awaiting the afternoon ferry back to the mainland, but the skies brought intermittent downpours all afternoon. Knowing there was much of nothing for miles after the mainland's ferry harbor, I figured I may as well kick it at the coffeeshop and see what the weather was gonna do later, catching the evening boat instead.

Cafe Vinaminni

The boat ride was uneventful and the skies were dry overhead, but a rain front was moving in from the east. I opted for an alternative route via some rural gravel roads, hoping to skirt the leading edge of the precipitation. After about 10mi I lost that race and pulled over to suit up in my raingear... it wasn't too bad and I figured I'd still ride another 3-4hrs tonight. Just then a pickup truck rolled up with a slightly older rural gentleman at the wheel.

"Hello. I am farmer. My farm is 2km further, if you like, come to my house. I have coffee."

I wasn't even wet yet, but it'd be preposterous to pass up an offer like this. So after a minute of confused chatter about where I was heading, I followed him back to his farmhouse for that hot coffee. Finally, a connection with a real Icelander!

With the coffee came milk... milk from his own cows out back. I have never tasted milk like this- so creamy and smooth, lacking that slightly acrid flavor that even good organic store-bought milk always has. It was served in a glass beer pitcher, and I downed an entire mug of it before bothering with the coffee.

"I hate America," he was quick to assert, "Not the people, but military and government. I think maybe 95% of the people are good lives, but maybe 5% are terrorist to rest of world. What do you think?"

And he was genuinely searching for some honest input. I told him I more-or-less agree, and we became fast friends. I suppose he figured he wasn't likely to turn up one of those 5% of wrongdoers pedaling a touring bike down his rainy gravel road at 10pm...

After a few cups of coffee and a slice of chocolate cake, it was time for the tour of his farm. First stop, however, is "special house" (the tool barn) for a few sips off the bottle of Jameison whiskey. Today is a celebration, he said, because he'd finished harvesting his biggest winter wheat crop in years and today had gone to town to collect his payment. All I'd done is waste my afternoon in an island coffeeshop, but if he's happy, I'm happy.

Then it was time to visit the cows who'd squirted out the amazing milk in my belly. Half were just peacefully chillin' in the barn, and the others were out grazing in the field. His system was automated, but this is a legitimate small-scale milk production where the cows are healthy and (hopefully) relatively happy; they're definitely respected. He kept stressing the color of his cows.

"In America, cows for milk are only black and white, Holsteins. In Iceland, we have many, many colors!"

"Farming is hard work. But if you work very hard, make good money. No work, no money." It was a bit of a paradox coming from a man who also claimed to be one of the first Communists in Iceland and would later show me a framed photo of Lennon (not the Beatle.) But he'd done well for himself and was understandably proud of what he'd accomplished. He would be retiring soon, and his son will be taking over eventually.

The farm has been in his family since 1806- he's lived there for his entire life and his love of the farm and his land was palpable as he pointed out over and over the names of each and every volcanic peak that created the jagged horizon. Most striking is the perfect view of Eyjafjallaokull directly to the east- the one that erupted in 2010 and canceled over 100,000 airline flights. Luckily his farm hadn't been inundated with ash or floodwater.

Now it was time to drive out to see his crops (but first another few sips in the "speial house.") His main crop at this time was something he didn't know the english word for; the leaves looked and tasted a lot like kale but he said he'll later harvest the stalk that grows in the middle to use as protein feed for his cows. So who knows, but the young greens were tasty.

Do I want to see his horses? 60 of them. Sure, why not. We bounced along a doubltrack through the lumpy lavafield in his truck while he talked about how special his land and its setting is. Then he jammed on the brakes and rooted around behind the seat.

"Now we drink beer. I no like cold beer."

'Ok,' I thought, 'nothin wrong with a warm beer.'

"Beer should be open!!" And I realized he doesn't like closed beer.

The post-rain fog had settled in and we couldn't spot the horses, though he assured me that he wasn't lying about having them. "I don't like that I can't find my horses," which I took to mean that he was afraid they'd gotten free or something, and was somewhat dreading an all night manhunt for escaped horses. "They are there, but I don't like to say something and then you not see it. Maybe in morning."

As we lumbered back towards the house, he again lurched to a halt.

"Do you like red wine or white wine?" and pulled out a small collection of unopened wine bottles from behind the seat. The red was a screw cap so the choice was obvious and we each took a pull straight from the bottle. Our nearly untouched beers still sat in the cupholders, but when you celebrate the harvest, better try a little of everything I suppose.

The rain had cleared but it was late and I knew he expected me to stay the night. So for the first time in almost 4 weeks, I slept under a roof and in a bed. It felt odd, as I've really grown to love my tent nest, but a reminder of the comforts of indoor living wasn't bad either.

In the morning I met his wife, and had more milk and coffee with breakfast (Cheerios!) We talked about shifty American politics, where I'd ridden in Iceland and how he thinks I'm crazy for biking here. Before I go, he insisted, I have to take some food for dinner and we went out to the freezer. "You like lamb? Bull? Fish? What do you like?" Given the chance to try some famous Icelandic lamb, it was an easy choice. He returned with two big bags of chops.

"Oh, this is too much. Too much," I told him, thinking more about carrying all the added weight rather than his overzealous hospitality.

"No, you must take. You eat today, eat tomorrow." Pointing to his walk-in freezer, the size of your average bedroom, "It is full."

I packed the lambchops away in between my extra clothes and sleeping bag for insulation. He'd given me so much in just the 12 hours I'd been there, but I think the most valuable thing to me was the chance to really experience a snippet of life on a local farm. I'd been riding past farms for 3 weeks, always gazing at the buildings and farmhouses, wondering what's inside and what that life is like. I'd finally found out, at least this one example.

I wanted to return his kindness in some way, but cyclists don't keep a chest of gifts to dole out. I did, however, give him one of the two Ritual Chocolate bars that Robbie had donated before I left Denver. I explained that my friend makes it in Colorado, that it takes him many weeks to turn a cocoa bean into solid chocolate. "My wife, she loves chocolate!"

I was loaded up and saying my thanks & goodbyes when he interjected, "Wait! I forgot," and disappeared towards the freezer, this time returning with packages of shark fillets and smoked salmon! "I catch by my own hand. Very good, you must take." Holy shit!! Two more Icelandic delicacies that I've been dying to try, but unable to justify the high cost. At this point I actually had to rearrange my panniers to accommodate all the extra food- probably close to 10lbs now. I'd be set for the next few days to say the least, and maybe can find some other Fellow Travelers to reap the bounty.

Funny what a little rain can bring.

Gardar and his wife

An island retreat [Vestmannaeyjar -- 3 days]

Figuring that if I'm spending a month on a big island, I ought to spend a few days on a tiny one. Boarded the 10am ferry boat for the 40min trip to the Vestmannaeyjar Islands just south of the mainland. This is a group of about 15 small volcanic islands formed during the last Ice Age (10-20,000 years ago) although the most recent one, Surtsey, was formed during an underwater eruption between 1963-1966. The largest island, Heimaey, is the only inhabited one and is home to over 4000 people. It's a popular destination for bird watchers and has quite a few of the famous puffins living on its cliffs.

The campground here [there are two actually- Porsheimili is far nicer than the other up the road] is really a great setting- overlooking a cool golf course built into a lava field, the ocean and several small islands; backed by an amphitheater of towering cliffs with swarming birds and a few errant sheep. I ended up settling in for 3 pleasant nights, enjoying the chance to rest, explore, soak and linger at the town coffeeshop.

Porsheimili campground

Early on the agenda was a nice soak at the town swimming pool, with an extra hot hottub. I was randomly given a locker for my valuables, and it was (appropriately) my old courier number from the past 8+ years:

lest I forget my past...

On my second evening as I was heading to the campground's communal kitchen area, a nice Polish couple I'd met earlier were hanging out at the picnic table. Upon my arrival the exclaimed, "Come, we have made you fish! Eat dinner!" This was no joke- they'd been down at the fishing docks trying to buy a fresh fish for dinner. The fisherman must've liked them and said, "We have plenty, here take these two for free" and handed over two big fish (cod and haddock) that were so fresh they had yet to even be packed into the ice chests. Talk about a score for me! We had a little campground feast with several others, and the fish was deliciously grilled with garlic butter and lemon. I'd been intent on eating some fresh Icelandic fish, although was reluctant to fork over the $40+ most nice restaurants were charging for a good seafood meal. Talk about a bargain!

catch of the day

the Chefs of Honor- Mia & Lukas from Poland

The next day I rode the couple of miles down to the southern tip of Heimaey to what is, statistically speaking at least, "the windiest place in all of Iceland." The weather station here at Storhofdi records only an avg of 4 calm days per year and often has winds over 30m/s. It was only a gentle breeze today, however.

Storhofdi

Along the way I watched some killer whales coming up for air as they feasted on fish schools a ways off the coast. I didn't spot any puffins, although I didn't really go searching them out like most visitors do. Guess I've never been much of a bird watcher. Next it was up to the northern tip of the island by the harbor to climb the island's highest point, Heimaklettur, at 283m above sea level. The views were pretty cool, especially of the lava field created by a 1973 eruption that evacuated the island, buried 300+ homes, added 2.3 sq km of land mass and threatened to block off access to the harbor. I'm told some of the lava is still hot enough to light a cigar from the ground, although I did not test this out personally.

sheep ain't afraid of heights!

About-face! [Vik > Landeyjasandur -- 63mi ]

As I rolled out from my secluded free campsite, boy was I glad I'd pedaled late into the night yesterday since the wind had taken a vicious turn directly into my face for the whole day. I was literally struggling to go 1/3rd the pace I'd been rallying last night, and was not happy about it. But on you go, one pedal stroke at a time... It took over an hour to make the measly 9mi into the village of Vik, the southern-most town on the mainland.

Vik, w/ Reynisdrangar rock columns erecting from the sea

After more struggle against the relentless wind exacerbating the soreness in my knees, I made my way past the popular Skogafoss waterfall. Hungry and tired, I eeked out a smile at least:

Skogafoss

 Along the way I found a preserved little shed; these used to be common along the way before the days of reliable transportation and road conditions. They were used to store milk for the milk wagons, and for people to seek shelter while waiting for their rides. They were frequent until the mid 1960's:

I also passed by the now infamous Eyjafjallajokull glacier and volcano- this is the one who's eruption in April 2010 disrupted European and trans-Atlantic airline travel for weeks. Although shrouded in clouds today, there was a cool photo from the day the eruption began:

Eyjafjallajokull

Later in the evening the wind finally began to quiet down and I made it near the harbor of Landeyjasandur for a free camp, in good position to board the ferry boat in the morning and head down to the Vestmannaeyjar Islands for a couple of days of R&R.

A tailwind is a terrible thing to waste [Skaftafell > Vik -- 86mi ]

The Svenafell campground where I stayed last night was just a few miles from the Skaftafellsjokull glacier, a popular tourist destination with a nice Visitors Center and some scenic hiking to be had. It was busy by Icelandic standards but worth the stop. There was a lot of interesting info on display at the Visitors Center about the geology and history of the region, and I'm always a sucker for those kinds of things.

First I took the short, paved path up to the edge of the glacier. I'd hoped to be able to actually walk upon it, but a pesky fast flowing (and very cold!) river cut off access onto the ice. [Back in Denver, my old buddy Robbie gave me a couple of the amazing chocolate bars that he makes at Ritual Chocolate... on the condition that I snap a few photos of his culinary work in Iceland- and then enjoy them! BTW, this is seriously the best chocolate ever!! They spend several weeks hand making it with vintage machinery from the 1920's, then age it in blocks for many months before finally creating a finished product. If you see a Ritual Chocolate bar for sale, seriously, splurge on it and you will not be disappointed!]

Ritual Chocolate and the Skaftafellsjokull

I then hiked up the ridge overlooking the glacier:

Skaftafelssjokull

On the way back down, low and behold I got to walk amongst some trees for the first time on this island!

After eating my lunch at the Visitors Center, I pushed off around 6:15PM to make some more headway this evening. Not everything in Iceland is picture-perfect postcard scenery:

Skeidararsandur

This is a vast, perfectly flat ~20mi stretch of black sand/gravel which is considered a glacial floodplain. The glacial floods are an interesting phenomena: there are actually lakes submerged beneath/within the large glaciers, and the underground volcanic activity gradually melts some of the glacier from the inside. As ice floats on water, eventually the water levels rise high enough that the glacier is lifted up enough to release excess water from within. Some places this occurs annually, others it is only a rare happening. And of course when a volcano actually erupts, it melts the glacial ice very rapidly and serious flooding follows. So these vast flat floodplains are a result of this process over tens of thousands of years.

I passed through several miles of a cool lava field covered in white pillowy moss- it looked like it had rained marshmallow fluff:

Brunahraun

I got a little town with a big name, Kirkjubaejarklaustur (typically abbreviated to Klaustur) and figured I'd set up camp somewhere comfy nearby. But just outside town I discovered I had a really nice tailwind, and if I've learned one thing about cycling here it is you never waste a good opportunity to make friendly with the wind. So I pressed on for another hour, then another-nuther hour, eventually 35mi beyond the town and only 9mi before the next town of Vik. It's not everywhere you can set off at a normal person's dinnertime and burn down 80+mi before going to bed!

To the lagoon [Hofn > Skaftafell -- 83mi ]

world's smallest gas station?

Turned out from Hofn at a decent hour and aside from after the first couple hours of crosswind, had a nice tailwind for a good chunk of the day. I dispatched with 50mi before I even stopped for lunch... and what a place to take a break:

Jokulsarlon ("Glacial Lagoon")

This was the famous Glacial Lagoon between the edge of the Breidamerkurjokull glacier and the Atlantic Ocean. As ice chunks calve off the tip of the glacier (which is a toe of Vatnajokull, Europe's largest glacial icecap) they are held up in the lagoon before eventually melting small enough to float out to sea. Interestingly, in terms of geologic time, this lagoon just began a second ago. In the 1950's as the glacier retreated melted, the once fast flowing river at its terminus began to fill the void left behind by the glacier, and the ice chunks now choke up at the outlet to the sea. Another interesting side effect is that the seashore is eroding by 8meters per year now, because sediment that was once deposited by the river now settles out in the lagoon and does not replenish the sea's erosion forces. So eventually they expect the shore to erode far enough inland that the 167m long suspension bridge and highway are swallowed up.

Glaciers also leave behind some pretty cool remnants aside from massive fjords and scenic valleys:

balanced rock in the evening sun

I made it to the Svenafell campground for the night. This area is part of a national park, so it's discouraged to free-camp (I've heard you can be issued a ticket, although the next day I saw some folks camped openly. Oh well, not a bad place to camp, plus they had a nice kitchen.)

Svenafell campground

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A note on drinking water: Another relatively unique perk making this trip easier is the fact that all free-flowing freshwater is considered safe to drink without filtering or treatment. Aside from geothermal springs and murky glacial rivers, you can just find a stream or river, dunk your bottle in and enjoy chilled snowmelt straight from the hills. With all the birds and grazing sheep, I would agree this sounds a little suspect... but after several weeks I've had no problems whatsoever.

And except for the arid interior regions, there is a lot of flowing water around here! I only carry a couple of full water bottles, then just fill up along the way as needed. Using the map as an indicator of rivers can be a bit of a gamble, as many marked are actually just seasonal or floodpaths, and on the southcoast you can't tell from the map which is fed by glacial melt carrying volcanic ash and sediment, and which is fresh, clear water.

An interesting example of fresh water converging with a glacial river:

Lobster Fest 2012 [Hofn]

Pedaled the last few miles into the fishing town of Hofn to check out the Lobster Festival I was told about back at the mysterious free hottub earlier in the week.

It turned out to be pretty fun, although it was an event definitely geared towards locals and not foreign tourists... so the printed schedule and all events were only in Icelandic and I couldn't understand a word of what was going on most of the time. They had some carnival rides for the kids during the day, and at night it turned into a good excuse for everyone else to drink. But the Icelanders are pretty mellow when it comes to drinking; they were clearly having fun but not getting outrageously wasted or being obnoxious. Pretty chill vibe all around.

The local restaurants had a lot of lobster specials on offer- I didn't see any whole lobsters being served but you'd probably have to go to one of the sit-down restaurants for that. Compared to a typical Maine lobster, the Icelandic variety (I'm told) are smaller and tastier. I've been pretty good about only cooking my own food from the grocery markets so far on my journey... and as this would be my first, and in all likelihood last, Icelandic lobster festival.....

....I went a little overboard:

lobster pizza

lobster pylsur

lobster soup & lobster pylsur

As they say in Icelandic, it was "Yammy"