Arriving in style by ship up a fjord. Waterfalls everywhere. 650m
mountain passes. Snow by the roadside. Earpopping descents.
Hundreds of miles of dirt road. Lava wastelands. Sand, grit, and
stones all over the road. Houses built of turf. Sleeping in a tent
for 20 nights. Boiling mud. Bathing in hot springs. The smell of
sulphur from the ground, and the hot water tap. Rare birds.
Scorching sunshine. Craters of all sizes. Cyclists from all over the
world. Bright blue milky water. 4x4 only signs. 500 tonnes of water
plummetting down a gorge every second. Basalt columns. Footpaths
with ropes to climb up cliffs. Riding past midnight without lights.
More waterfalls. Cliffs and gorges. Puffins by the roadside.
Strange museums. A sailing boat. Humpback whales. Six pounds for a
pint. Clouds of dust behind every vehicle. 6mph for hours.
Campsites in the middle of nowhere. Yoghurt. Ice caps and glaciers.
Sunburn. Broken front pannier racks. Feeling every bump in the road.
Crowds of tourists. Boiling water shooting 20m into the air. Hot
tubs. Outdoor parliaments. Crystal clear lakes. Headwinds. Trendy
bars. Relief from instant past meals. Four wheel drive busses with
bike racks. Dust everywhere. Scout camps. Rainbow coloured
mountains. Tiny horses. More hot springs. Hill runners. Glaciers
at sea level. Hiring crampons. Rain. Drying clothes all over a
hotel room. Trying to read Icelandic. Failing to speak Icelandic.
No punctures. Fjords. Thousand-meter mountains that no-one bothers
to climb. Unexpected tunnels. Free campsites. Knitwear. More
mountain passes. More waterfalls. More sunshine. Going home.