Days 8 and 9 - Trails and Transition

I woke up early with the noises of the vast campsite in motion…  I had my walking plan for the day having purchased a map of the routes. Essentially I had picked the lomgest, hardest route on the map. .. previously when I had done this with my brother in Switzerland, it ended up with us crawling into a train station, just about catching the last train down the mountain in the dark and barely being able to move the next day! 

So I set off, essentially following the Langevegur trail until about halfway to the next hut, then turning off onto a route that looped round another few mountaims before heading down a ridge back. to the campsite. 15km long and a suggested walk time of 6.5 to 8.5 hours…  lets go. 

The first part of the trail rose steeply up to a viewing point which looked back over the valley I had come from and towards the extraordinary colours of the mountaims . in this region…  greens, yellows, reds, blues, whites all displayed on the sides of the mountains. Pictures will not do it justice for sure. And up ahead, steam rising from the earth in great clouds. 

The path was easy for a while, flat across the top, winding in and out of glistening black boulders and then rose sharply! Once again, I hadnt had breakfast so sat down, ate a roll (no cheese left - man can live on bread alone apparently) and a few chocolate things and then headed on up. The path was not easy nor was it as difficult as I had been expecting for such a legendary trail…. fortunately because my legs were still pretty dead after the efforts of the previous days. 

I passes the whisps of steam and felt its warmth rising from the depths of the earth…  I trudged on, the landscape always beautiful, always breathtaking, not changing, standing as it had stood for milennia. 

I reached a turn off for another path but determined to follow my initial plan through…  It was hot…  I was trying to drink as much as I could, but clearly it was not going to be enough when the sun scorched all it touch, leaving us all with dry mouths. 

The first part of this walk had frustrated me…  I wanted solitude to enjoy the tranquility of the mountains.. but it was not to be…  behind I had one loud group, ahead another…  I felt like I was just trying to stay somewhere in the middle so I wouldn't catch up with or be caught up…  It got quite stressful and I wanted to get to my turnoff where I felt I would leave most the crowds behind and find my own little trail. But first a steep up or two to negotiate…  on a ridge…  I have to say, I was keen not to have to go down it, it spurred me on to find the route around! 

Eventually I got to the turnoff… 

On my map it had a little symbol to suggest that it was easy to lose the route…  I also wasn't sure how hard the route was so as I approached the start of the blue route, I took the opportunity to quiz a gentleman who was just arriving the other way…  'A few ridges, nothing super dangerous, not much snow, should be fine'.. excellent! 

Off I went, crunching over the first lot of snow and up to the high point beyond…  from there I got a great view of the other mountains, perhaps not quite as sought after as those with the colours and the steam rising…  these were higher and blanketed with snow, more majestic. No sign of life here either, no soaring birds above…  ok I  lie…  there was a lone black sheep! 

The path wound round pleasantly, not steep, but meandering round…. the views over both sides were stunning and the sun was beating down. 

I got to a point where a different path stretched downwards…  I had been advised to go down it just for a short while to see across the other way, apparently you got a much better view from a little way down…  so I headed down…  not far.. and gazed across and down at another little valley…. 

The river was shining amidst the sand at the bottom and the sun gleamed off the hills which appeared almost white in that moment. The folds of the hills created patterns only found in nature and it was truly a beautiful sight and well worth the detour..  I said that before I climbed upwards again! 

Back onto the blue route…  and a slightly iffy ridge around the side of the mountain on loose gravel and a bit of a drop on my right..  all ok when going up…  a bit shakey when going down!  My shoes performed to the standard I would expect from Salomon shoes and gripped the gravel well even at fairly extreme angles. Down I went on the ridge…  then follow the path over the edge again…  another ridge…  all good fun! 

Eventually I was back down on the vaey floor and heading to the campsite… 5 hrs 45 minutes the total time for the route, which I was pleased with and I headed back to the campsite. 

All the way round I had been promising myself some incredibly expensive protein in the form of a hot dog at the Mountain Mall buses…  

…. I got 2!

The next day, I awoke to a wet tent, a cold and windy day and mist over the mountains…  it seemed I had picked a good day to transition to Reykjavik! 

I waited until the buses arrived, bringing the next load of tourists and then went to talk to the driver…  can you fit me and the bike on (I hadn't booked as no signal).... 

He consulted his notes, chatted to 3 other drivers for what seemed like an age and then said he thinks he could find a space for me…. I took that as a definite and went to pack up my tent and bike stuff…  it didn't take long and so I had time to kill…. 

I wandered around, looked at the views, drank hot chocolate and read my book…  generally took it easy until finally it was time for the bus to leave. 

These buses have basically taken a lorry chassis and wheels and been converted to coaches..   when you know that they had to do that to negotiate the highland roads, you might get some sense of what I have been cycling on for the last week! 

The bus engines roared to life and we were off…  bike safely stowed in the cargo hold. I watched as familiar roads went past…  there was that stretch of sand that I had had to push…. down the steep hill that I had come up…  over the ford that I had got my feet wet in… 

The bus easily shrugged away the obstacles that had caused me so many lost calories and energy…  it was sad in a way that it could so easily fly over the places that I had sweated through…  but that's the nature of motorised travel. 

Travelling by bike makes everything more personal, makes every mile seem like a friend or an enemy, every hill top like a teacher rewarding you for effort,  every downhill like that much vaunted promotion…. The miles are personal, the meters, sometimes even the centimeters are a personal battle and in doing battle with the land, you absorb it, it seeps into your soul and stays there, a part of you forever. 

The bus didn't care about that…  it swept along and soon we were back in Hella where I had seen the caves, then Selfoss, where I had sat on a bench for lunch.. 

then Reykjavik into view and suddenly it was shops and houses and traffic. 

Before long I arrived at the campsite, hauled my bike off the bus…  put the wheel back on and found a spot… 

The campsite is a little strange as its in the centre of a city, in a park almost…  with access to the general public at all times…  but it has good facilities, somewhere to charge my stuff up and is clean…  It will do nicely. 

Roll on tomorrow!