Rolling Stone

The journey home was pretty straight forwards except that I wasn't able to sleep until I was on the plane.  I had to wait up to catch the bus at 3.30am which was a bit of a drag.  The bike was now cosy in its box and all wrapped up in pipe lagging and my meticulous bagging in certain colour bags, orange for home clothes, black for bike clothes and blue for sleep stuff had gone out of the window. I didn't care as it would all be washed at home anyway.  So it was stuff as much as possible into a large bag as you can, sit on it, do up the zip and then realise you needed that jumper anyway...

As I stepped off the plane I was shocked at how warm it was... or was it that I just hadn't realised how cold I had been.  My feet by the way were perfectly dry by now and the cold hadn't transpired from my paddling across the unbridged river.

Bath and bed after a cup of tea. I couldn't believe how soft a mattress felt it was a luxurious and pleasant experience. I slept soundly for several hours and as I began to waken I realised that Iceland was many miles away now and home was here.

So to sum it all up? I am I awe of Iceland and have yet to finish my journey. I merely scratched at a small corner of this island and there is still so much yet to see, do and cycle. But I wouldn't go back lightly as knowing what it requires to travel solo in such terrain would mean that I would have to be prepared for the trip, mentally as much as physically.  It takes a lot to decide to go on holiday to a place that's bound to be colder than the one you live in!

However, I felt very at home in this strange place. The solitude and the extreme conditions melded well with my inner being. This was a journey of soul rather than spirit and one that I am proud to say I have done well.  I have faced the wind, fallen on stones and waded the waters. I have laughed in the rain and shied away from the gales and I have, as always, been shown the hearts of other people.  When I was in doubt I was given a rainbow to lighten the load and fellow travellers to show the way. I have wrestled with inner demons, sang silly songs, soared with the birds and flowed with the wind. I am indebted to Iceland and it is a land that I shall return to. Many who know me will be surprised to hear that as I don't like to repeat a journey when there is so much to see in the world, but this is different.

As ever, my thanks go to my many friends for their support but there is one friend who I owe a special mention to.  So Dave Lockwood stand forwards and take a bow. You gave me only one word last year "Iceland" and sent me a map in the middle of winter to keep me on track. You have yet to visit this land and I am sure you will find it as I left it in my mind, perfect, I hope to read of your journey before too long.

When I walked into a cafe after a very hard days ride and the wind was howling through the valleys I heard Neil Young playing in t eh background. His words brought a wry smile to my face;

                 "Make a living like a rolling stone, on the road there's no place like home...."

Charles Woollam, you were always there waiting for me to call whatever the time. The warmth of your voice stilled the wind and kept me warm through the night. Much love to you, my fellow traveller in life.

Iceland? I thank you.

Far side of the mountain

I was pleased when I woke in the morning knowing that my day was planned for a look at the town of Rekjavicj.  I had heard a lot about it and how one must have a look "down town". 

I am always aware that the day before an airport departure can be hard to deal with  and I'd hoped that this was not going to be one of them.  I also hoped to take lots if interesting pictures of the town but alas it didn't have the wow factor that I'd hoped.  

The juxtaposition of utilitarian square buildings and the zinc older styled houses doesn't do it for me. I prefer the zinc style, it's colourful clean lines work.  But as I was walking through the suburbs I thought how the town probably works really well in winter when the green has gone and you have the stark white and pale grey stucco block buildings.  The light bouncing around these walls must be spectacular. And I will give them their use of glass.  The windows are always expansive. 

Interestingly the modern block style really sits well in the stark countryside. (Apologies no pic!) I think it's because if this use if glass and clean lines.  It's not trying to be part of the countryside it just sits there. The couloirs are always harmonious though. Think lichen and bark and there you have the colour palette. 

Tea was called for. 

I took myself into a bistro cafe for toast, marmalade and a cup of Earl Grey.  I was about to take a picture then realised my blog was beginning to look like some sort of breakfast club. So I leave it to your imagination and give you the window display instead. 

The town mimics a strange blend of Brighton and Regent street.  

Avant guard and hip but also aiming directly at the tourists. I smiled at how it felt to be a tourist.  The high street was certainly busy enough. It's quite strange to also walk down a high street that has none of the usual formats. Plenty of outdoor wear shops and tourist information shops and you couldn't move for Icelandic jumpers.  There was one telling sign in a window that said, all marked hand made craft has been made in Iceland. Hmmmmm?? Say no more. 

After I had Trolled around for a while I made my way to the Icelandic Saga center, a museum which presents a London Dungeons style view of the history of the island. I was fascinated and entertained.  I am drawn to the strange history of his island, the taking of Irish women as slaves, battles with Indians the discovery of grapes and the bloody battles of Cheiftan clans.  And that's not to mention the role of women in Icelandic history. They are depicted as strongly independent individuals who have played a great part in the founding of the country. 

After forcing myself away from the Viking dress. up corner (there was no one there to take a picture!)  I headed off to the Museum of photography. There was a exhibition on that had caught my eye.

 It was fascinating.  If you would like to see the dying culture of Greenland, Iceland and Siberia, this man has made it his life's work to record the demise through his photos. Something to look for on my return. A Brilliant photo journalist.

I didn't take this for the fountain, I simply wanted to show how popular ice cream is in this country.  When it's been blowing a gale and I am cuddled up in my fleece, there they are eating ice cream. I wonder if it's the same principle of the refreshing nature of a hot cup if tea on a sunny day in England?

What I was really impressed with was this children's play ground! This must be heaven to play in.  Defiant key no risk assessment here!

Once back at the camp I begin to pack my bike away.  He's going to need a damn good clean to get rid of the ash and dust. It's with great sadness that I close the lid. We have had such fun. But now it's time to gather all my bits together and wait for the 3.30 am bus to the airport.  I'm not signing off tonight as I'd like to muse whilst flying over the skies as to my thoughts on this trip. So we are not quite done yet. 

Waiting for the bus

Deciding to take a day off and catch a bus was not as easily achieved as I had thought.    The only bus was leaving Bourdanes was at 20.16 that night.  I had my tent packed and was ready to leave well before then. So how did I fill in the hours!

It was so windy I didn't wish to be outside. So I found a wonderful cafe with two very large soft sofas and a kind soul who lent me her phone charger. 

It was going to be so hard filling in ten hours with sofas and teas.  But I was giving it my best. 

These grow wild in the verges.  Fantastic colour of green.  This cafe was actually a very trendy affair. Lots of nick nacks, coffee sack cloths and the odd tea towel to boot. 

The idea in Iceland is that lunch is usually a bowl of soup, plate of salad and a chunk of bread.  I watched as my cafe soup was being made.  Crab and shrimp! 

This was created with a tomato and cream base and garlic for piquancy.  The bread was home made as was the salad.  It was a marvellous affair.  I couldn't take a picture but hopefully the description works.  

Still 6 hours to go.  The only shop in town was a supermarket affair of all sorts. In the back was a wool shop that puts Barsleys to shame.  It was a cavern of a room stocked with Icelandic  wool.   So a quick purchase of a crochet hook and two balls of wool and I spent the rest of my stopover sat crocheting Granny squares.

  I was suppose to be resting so thought that was fine. At least my legs were not moving. 

It was a VERY anxious moment waiting for the arival of the bus.  I had been sold several tickets by a glum taciturn girl who announced, "I am not sure how much it costs to Borganes but this will get you to Rekjavik so you should be ok". Do I need to book my bike on or inform them of my wanting to be picked up were questions that were met with a basic grunt and snuffle from the upturned nose.  Nice!  

As I waited on the side of the road in a howling gale, I put on my high vis jacket and looked anxiously up the road.  What if they didn't stop? What if it's full what if they can't take my bike?   But this is Iceland and everyone, well apart from the Trolls seem to be helpful. 

The bus hurtled in towards my windmilling yellow arms and out jumped the driver.  "Ok. Let's stick it on the back."  My Bike!!!! What should I do.  My bike with panniers and tent etc attached was hauled onto the back bike carrier and attached with two small bungees.  "You might want to take the helmet he said."  I wanted to run screaming never mind take the helmet! 

To cap it all the bus hurtled down and up the mountain pass whilst the bus driver chatted on his mobile or was turned looking at his passengers and having full conversations with the very laid back in mates.   We arrived safe and sound and my bike was unscathed. Living in a risk averse society can be a bugger on your nerves. 

Fish Pic no 4

Last Hurrah

Today (thurs) is my last full cycling day.  I could have caught the bus all the way back to Rekjavik but that would have been a bit like a cop out.  

There looked like a wonderful route around a lake and into the national park north of Rekjavik.  There was even a campsite there.  I studies the contours and sussed it was flattish apart from perhaps 10km in the first 30km.  The whole ride mapped about 70km so that looked doable. 

As I set off the wind was harsh but the sun began to shine.  Thus started a glorious day of sunshine cycling and space. 

  I soon found myself alongside the lake and I even stopped to have a sandwich and lounge in the sun.  Beautiful. It was warm, peaceful and the moss was so soft.  Very tempted it has to be said.  

The houses to the side of the lake looked pretty special although all boasted CCTV.  

At the campsite I had bumped into two ladies also out cycling Iceland.  As I sat musing they whizzed past. Which was good because the next section of the road turned into something else and it was useful to have a comparison. They were both on Mountain bikes and even they confessed the hard ride and had to get off and push. I hadn't hesitated as I knew this terrain was not for my bike!

And it went up and up and up!  I was brought to mind of an old Qi Gong expression that the amount of effort that was required in all things should only be enough to effect a change.  So I  relaxed into my lot and cajoled my bike up the escarpment. There was a wide stream to cross and no bridge.  I looked at my feet asked permission and simply waded through shoes and all. I concluded they would dry on the way down! (I am now sniffing and beginning a cold so guess that was stupid!)

This was to be the final highest point on my trip.  When I reached the summit the sun was blazing and I was perfectly placed for a pic. I even had someone to take it. 

Then it was a simple descent off the top and a ride down the Kaldidalur pass into the national park. Once I found a better surface the pace picked up.  The sun was in my face and the wind behind me. What's not to like. 

And so I reached the campsite. It was 7.30pm and the sun was still strong.  Sod it, let's go for Rekjavick. 50km more but I was sure I could do it.  I had to have a quick Nutella sandwich stop amidst the good luck stone piles,

but I made good time.  In fact it was pretty poignant. As I cycles into Rekjavick my one and only sunny day was coming to a close. Awesome.  

Tomorrow (Friday ) I can take a day and have a look around the city. 

Full turn homeward

I had hoped to head to Holmavick as there was a museum of socery and witchcraft that had taken my fancy. I set out along the road and turned into the road that was to take me over the mountain to the village.  There was such a string wind that I was literally stopped in my tracks.  A huge sign was showing the temperature as 11deg and the wind spew was in RED at 16.  I guess that's knots??? Whichever it looked like this was not going to happen.  I smoked to myself that perhaps the dark forces didn't want a little witch like me poking around.  I had to think about it though!!

So I now turn the bars to face back towards Rekjavik. This is not easy to do as I'm loathe to stop this exploration of such a magnificent land.  

I'm given the option a 20km trek overland with the wind behind me towards the next campsite or a 80km round the coast on a track.  Well it was always going th be that one wasn't it.  

It's amazing how we can divert ourselves away from that return to the airport.  I know I have 4 days left but there is something so poignant about deciding the furthest point has been reached and it time to stop. 

But today's jaunt was so peaceful.  I stopped my bike at one spot and realised I could hear no other sounds but the odd seagull. Even the wind had abated. Silence. It's something we forget exists. 

All was going well until I turned the corner back into an increased headwind.  It had grown strong.  Another 40km to go.  I had hoped for a hot pot soak but that had gone out of the window.  By the time I reache the campsite it was too late and I was too tired.  Luckily the only pizzeria in the village was open so after a vey fast tent build off I went. Good hot meal makes all the difference. 

The night was windy beyond wind. I am pleased to say Wistful and I slept like logs and was only vaguely aware if the gales buffering the tent.  The campsite was such that I actually slept with my bike too. It's amazing what you can scrunch in to a small tent! 

On another note, Wistful has taken a shine to a new garment for her wardrobe but I've told her that Auntie Nicola is going to run one up for her when we get home!! 

I am taking a bus today across the inner land. It has little to offer to see per se but my legs need a rest and I have cunning plans for the morrow. 

Bike of the Mountain

It's not often I give myself Kudos but for today's ride I shall give myself some.  So why go to Iceland, and what was I hoping to find? Today I found a part of me that I haven't seen for quite some time and even I was in awe. The sheer grit and determination in facing adversity and knowing it was down to me alone to come through the other side. This was not about joy, this was too base chakra, this was the Heros journey and it was all of my own doing. 

I set out from one campsite heading for the other.  This was a ride of 120km and would take me along the coast and over a couple of charted hills.  I thought to myself ahhh this is a 6 hour ride no probs. maybe 7 if the winds against me. 

It was and so was the road surface, a loose surface of chippings, gravel and ash. Oh and did I mention that the hills numbered over 4 and were all over 8% and lasted on one occasion 11km.  Ahhhh. That will be why all the cars about 30 in total that passed me were giving me huge thumbs up and cheering me on.  I needed it. 

At one stage on a 15% kick my bike stopped going forwards and I didn't cleat out in time.  Wallop.  At least there was no one but me to laugh at myself.  Strangely I wasn't laughing.  I relented the 500 meters and pushed.  I didn't push much more than this as I was determined to finish what I started. 

There was however nothing between the campsites, I mean nothing. So the only way out if I couldn't make it was back to the beginning and that was not an option. I knew this was the case so had sort of prepared for the solitary ride, but even I was surprised by the ascent.  Given my pack load and the road surface I deserved my Kudos.  There were no points, no PBs, no queens of the mountain,  just brute force and determination. But I was not alone, at one moment that wasn't particularly optimistic I looked up to see that the Universe had conspired to send me my very own, "you are almost there" banner! What a blissful moment of spirit and joy.  

When I eventually arrived at the other campsite 9 hours later even the receptionist was agog. So much so he gave me an extra cup of tea on the house. As with all thing like this all I can say is "Bloody Marvellous".

At this point I'd like to thank my trusty bike. I would never have completed today on any other bike I can assure you. The 15% long descents on loose gravel confirmed my choice of disc brakes.  The 35mm tyres, cyclocross, sang across the ash, and if there was ever a moment of hesitation it was operator error not the bike. Thank you my beautiful, trusty steed and thank you Shand Cycles for building my Stoater. 

Good day bad day

I arrive in what can only be described as a fantastic quiet picturesque campsite. I'm in heaven.  Only me and my tent and another in the whole place. The site overlooks a picturesque bay and I think yes this is perfect.  

I'd taken the opportunity of breakfast on the ferry so no need to cook I could have the day off.    

As it was Sunday I thought if have a bath!  And the view from the bathroom was worth the walk.  

Hopefully you can now understand my obsession with geothermal pools. This has to have been the best. I lounged for at least an hour. 

Sadly on returning from the pool I find my travel charger and Pebble has been pinched. This was not a numpty moment as I had left it charging for the days travel.  But at least my phone and Garmin were all safe.  It was a sad making moment as I had placed trust in my fellow travellers and I hate the thought of a Burglar Bill roaming free. I know maybe it's me that needs to learn to lock everything up and not trust, but you know what? I'd rather not bother if that's the only way we can exist. 

Ah well.  So I got on my bike had a ride ranted a little and came back feeling a lot better. So if iv'e been a bit quiet these last few days it's because I haven't been able to charge this phone and I need to save my battery for emergencies. 

Hopefully by the time you read this all will be well with the world in all manner of things. 

Goodbye Snaefellsnes

Befuddled of Brenchley here has decided to hop on a ferry... Cheat cheat cheat! Well as in the great bear hunt, I can't go over, under or around, I have to go through.  Not being a strong swimmer with a bike attached (and Wistful can't swim so blame the bear!)  I have opted for the civilised route. 

So I leave the peninsula behind as I head further north, (what not further north!) to the western islands.  

And what may I ask is the plan? Another good question!  This trip has taught me the element of sheer adventure that technology and gizmos can dampen.  I'm using a Garmin but only to record the route and mileage as I gave up routing on day one. 

The outcome is that I sit at night and pour over my maps drooling with excitement. Which makes a change from the digestive-biscuit-lava flow that normally accompanies my evening musings. 

I was very unsure as to make my way back inland and turn south towards Rekjavik or push on further.  As this is only Sunday the first option felt like turning the ship round and heading for home. Not yet.. Not yet!

I would have liked to touch the Arctic  Circle but I'd miss my flight and that would never do. I am however making an executive decision to push north and then turn east along the shore and finally turn south once I hit the mainland again. If I'm running short I can simply catch a bus down the N1.

 What could be simpler. Well it does involve a secondary road and several steep hills that look tough but I can't let the thought of those get in the way of my journey. So that's the plan.  Everyone on board? Good. Then let's continue. 

Day 5 on the road

The corner of the peninsula has been turned and indeed I'm heading east along the northern shore. 

Strangely it was good to get out of the shadow of the mountain, a bit of a melancholic mood had descended but as soon as I had left my mood lightened. 

I discovered an information plaque shortly after that informed me that the area where I had stayed was the home of Iceland's first recorded serial killer. Hmmm that will do it then! 

I have the chance to see the Glacier from the other side and it does look impressive. Glad I didn't 'do the tour!' 

The road involved some rather Pyrenean hills for me today. But we coped. I was concerned I'd miss my triple chainset but pleased to say all was fine. A tad slow but I'm carrying a whole other me too so I shouldn't complain. 

I hear it's very hot at home! I would like to see some sunshine. Believe me I'm not complaining but it would be great to see how the landscape changes with sunshine and I have some washing that has remained wet for the last three days! 

Perhaps this evenings sunset bodes well!

So I'm not sure what to do tomorrow as I am planning a ferry trip across to the western islands. There is the option to stop at an island! But I may just go straight across. I will see how the mood takes me in the morning. 

I am hoping to show some of the gorgeous houses from around here, but just as I started to take the photos the battery dies. Typical. 

But all in all a good days cycling and a weary traveller is happily tucked up in her sleeping bag.

I shall leave you with Fish Pic no 3.