The Kjoilur Route. - Monday

Even though I was late to bed the next morning I was up and ready for the off. 110km to cover if I wanted to be in my campsite that night.  As I had been too exhausted to eat the night before I made swift work of a huge breakfast from the cafe hut at Hveravellir. Whilst making final adjustiments to the odd bag strap or two, Christer, a fellow camper, was remarking on my late arrival and early departure when he stopped to admire my bag work.  Then he spotted that I was riding a Shand. Incredulous though it was, his best friend Is actually a/the frame builder at Shand.  Now that may seem like no biggy but considering this is an artisan bespoke bike builders in a small town outside of Edinburgh the sheer look of amazement on his face was a picture.  Small world indeed.  (Thank you Matt if you were responsible for my Stoater and I hope Christer shows you the pics.) Tweets flew. 

So with a fond farewell to a fab warm tub I head for the hills.  Now my stomach is churning at what may lay ahead.  It was not made happier when I had to cross a river after sinking my shoes into the ash bog. But my feet remained dry as I carried my bike across the river stepping stone by stepping stone. You can take the girl out of Cumbria but you can't get rid of the mountain goat. 

Kilometers after kilometer passed.  The road began to ease as the rocks gave way to cricket balls, to marbles, and eventually to ash.  I began to smile. The thought of stopping at the next mountain hut for food kept me going. I had promised myself a huge lunch. 

As I pushed the gate open on the mountain hut Afangi it all looked a little closed.  But within a moment I was greeted by the face of a smiling Icelandic angel called Asta.  She had been trying to leave to go to the town for supplies but had been delayed as for some reason she had felt the need to wash her truck. "You almost missed me!" I raised a silent prayer of thanks to my guardian angels as she put the kettle on.  Most of you will know that like a wilted flower to rain I will raise my self to full height after a cup of tea.  Give me two (she did) and I will be forever in your debt. Thank you Asta. So if your planning this journey stop at this hut. Don't think it's closed as it's actually one of the lightest cleanest welcoming places to stay. If I hadn't been on a mission I would have stayed and tried the house special rice pudding.  Asta passed me much later on her return journey and stopped to take my picture. Sometimes we only think we are alone and for some reason I felt I had just met a very old friend indeed. I smiled. Bless you Asta. 

Kilometers later I began to realise that this part of my adventure was coming to an end. This was a really, really sad moment. Yes it's been painful but I had been planning this part for a year, quietly and unconsciously but it had always been in my head. I pedalled on in contemplative silence. 

And then the road changed. Like a mirage in the distance I could see a line of what looked like Tarmac. Had I really come to the end?  Within a few kilometers I was literally taken from the barren badlands to the fertile lands of civilisation.  I could have cried. Instead like any good blogger I got THE selfie. 

Just as  I was about to take the picture a rare car came down the road. They all laughed and cheered as they found me jumping up and down waving my arms shouting "whoo haaaa I did it ! "  Witness my pain. It was indeed 'Fury Road'

I just want to show you the contrast of the badlands and the highlands. 

Job Done. Kjolur route I respect you.