The Plan

In Iceland there is a 1,300km ring road encircling the
entire country. Feeling freshly inspired from my year studying in Finland and
meeting amazing people, I wanted a big adventure for the summertime. We had
just done a three day cycling tour around the Åland Islands and I enjoyed the
feeling of freedom so much on that trip that I thought I could keep going for
days. Iceland was deeply rooted in my mind for years as an adventurer's
paradise since watching the Secret Life of Walter Mitty in 2014 and so, sitting
in the sauna one day, the idea struck me. I could totally just book a flight
and cycle the whole country. I ran upstairs to check out the logistics of the
thing and it was completely feasible. One month later, I was on a flight to
Keflavík.

The Preparation

I broke my arm riding a bike when I was 13 years old. It was
a brutal fall and I had barely touched a bicycle since. Though I had mostly
gotten over it, I still felt nervous going around corners at anything more than
a walking pace. However, I needed to be able to cycle at least 80 km/day, and
so I got training. I borrowed my friend's bike in Helsinki and my brother's
bike back home. I had to learn how to fix a bike, and what bags were needed to
carry all of my stuff. In Åland, we carried our gear in backpacks, but this
made us top heavy and came with all the usual back pains and discomforts. I
soon discovered the concept of bikebacking, where all of the gear could be
stored in bags attached to the bike, and no backpack was needed at all. As for
the bike itself, I considered a few options before deciding on just taking my
brother's old mountain bike. It was sturdy and strong, and I knew all of its
quirks.

The Beginning

I split the ride into three sections. The South coast, the
highlands, and the North to West coast. The Southern section was truly
wonderful. Great weather, favourable winds (mostly), and awesome people. I took
a slow and steady approach, and on some days reached 150km by just cycling for
10 solid hours. the landscapes drifted past as I disappeared into my music, and
I felt unstoppable. These mountains are some of the most fascinating in the
world, and you can read their geology like pages in a book: A glacier came
through here; the Earth is pushing out here; a volcano created this sand. I
truly felt myself start to connect with this land.

A Ponderous Note

About a week into my journey, I came across a big lake with
large icebergs floating. This was Jökulsárlón, and over in the distance was a
glacier of the largest ice cap in Europe: Vatnajökull. The lake did not exist
until the 20th century but due to the melting of ice as a result of climate
change, it is now 8 km at its longest width and up to 284 m deep. At the edge of
the lake were a series of tourist offices and banners advertising 'Adventure
Tours!', 'Come on an expedition around the amazing icebergs of Jökulsárlón!'.
In the corner, a small sign detailed the retreat of ice over
the last few decades. Perhaps I am cynical, and I in no way blame anyone for
trying to make a living or wanting to explore such an amazing place, but I do
believe the atmosphere should have been sadder. The loss of ice here, and the
retreat of the glacier, is devastating.

Seydisfjordur

On day 13, I arrived at the town of Seydisfjordur. This was
significant for two reasons: firstly, the road in was the same road in which
they filmed the longboarding scene in the Secret Life of Walter Mitty, one of
my inspirations for this trip; and secondly, this would be my first major rest
stop between sections. Climbing up the fjord was a bit of an endeavour, but the
downward journey was 20 minutes of pure bliss. I rolled in, booked myself into
a hotel, and grabbed a beer. That night I had one of the best sleeps of my life
and I looked forward to the much needed rest. Unfortunately, however, there was
no room at the hotel for a second night, and I had to go to the campsite
nearby. It was nice, but I was getting restless staying in one place after such
an exciting and varied two weeks. I therefore made the, perhaps ill-judged,
decision to carry on and head across the highlands to the North Coast.

Uncertainty

I did make one good decision here. My initial plan was to
follow dirt roads far inland, but due to time constraints decided to stick to
the highway. I stocked up on snacks at Egilsstaðir and headed up North. The
road was beautiful, and I was overjoyed to be moving again. However, my knee,
which I had been having trouble with since day 5 or so, was causing me
excruciating pain. I decided to stop early at a hotel and weigh up whether I
should continue or not. Here, I was able to spend some time in a hot tub, and
ponder life while staring at a cloudy hill. This relieved the pain in my knee
immensely and after some time I decided that, despite my great tiredness, I was
ready to head on. There was a short 100km deviation from the highway and I
wanted to fulfil my dream of experiencing the complete isolation and feeling of
freedom of the Icelandic highlands.

The Highlands

Immediately as dreamed, the rocky plains of the Icelandic
highlands stretched out as far as the eye could see. After some time, I came
under fog, and found myself traversing through this ethereal place. Troll-like
rocks appeared from the mist, and one could easily imagine ghost stories and
monsters. The road was bumpy, and I was passed by a single large truck
while stopped to eat my sandwiches. I gave them a wave and they carried on
their way. As the day went on and I moved further and further in, I decided I
had to stop for the night. I moved off from the road and set up my tent behind
a hill, where it blended in with the other boulders. The sun formed a glow in
the sky over the distant hill, and I crawled in to bed, very ready for a good
night. But I good night I did not have. Rocks poked through my thin mattress
and my sleeping bag was no where near adequate for the cold weather. I woke
exhausted and sick, every bone and muscle in my body aching immensely. I
needed a place to rest, but I was in the middle of nowhere. On google there
showed nothing nearby. However, on a little tourist map I picked up, there was
a small hotel just 20km up the road. I set off.

In my haste and exhaustion, I threw my stuff onto my bike.
All of it was loose and hanging, and every bump made me worry about dropping
something. Up and over hills, the path continued endlessly, while I felt sick
with fatigue. Finally, as I came to the top of a rise in the road, I saw below
a farm. In the centre of a great valley, red rock protrusions running striated
towards where the ocean eventually is, grassy roofs were accompanied by
campervans and tents. Over to the West sat a behemoth of a rock, which I later
discovered to be a rather famous mountain called Herðubreið. I rolled down and
booked in for two nights, and slept for 24 straight hours. I accepted the need
to rest and booked one more night. However, time was running short and the
rooms were expensive, leading me to make the difficult decision to bail on my
challenge. I arranged a bus North to the city of Akureyri and decided to
explore this fjord complex for the remainder of my time.

COVID

Upon arriving on the island of Hrisey, I still felt ill. I
had plenty of sleep and rest by this point, so I thought that something must be
up. Taking a COVID test kit, my heart sank as I found myself to be positive.
The next week I hid away in my tent on the island’s campsite until I was okay
to get going. The days passed into a blur as I watched the weather fronts move
and shift across the surrounding fjords. Thick rain clouds passed through the
immense valleys, and the innumerable seabirds created a constant cacophony of
sound. I felt less impatient here, less desperate to keep moving.

Homeward Bound

The bus journey to Reykjavik passed with a bittersweet ease,
helped by my meeting of the great Edgar, who had a fantastically entertaining
story about his attempt to cycle Iceland. While I did not get to cycle that
part of the road, I did get to watch the unfathomable landscapes pass in the
ever-changing Icelandic weather. I’ll never forget my view of Langjökull, one
of the major icecaps of the country. Watching this large mountain in the
distance, its peak obscured by cloud and its ochre buttresses flowing out onto
the plains, I was curious about what it was called. Upon finding out that it
was a full 50 km away, I was shook by amazement at the sheer scale of what I
was seeing. The bus carried on around the ring road and rolled into
Reykjavik late at night. I stayed at the same campsite as on the first day, met my
friend who was working as a whale watching guide, and made my way to the
airport to fly on home. Though sad at not completing the challenge, I felt more
than content, as I felt that I had experienced exactly what I had wanted to
experience. I’m not a purist about numbers and feats, I just want to have
adventures. Still, one day I may return, as the call of the Icelandic
circumnavigation will always ring loud in my ears.