Distance: 82.00 miles

Time: 6:39:46

Average Speed: 12.3 mph

Elevation Gain: 1,536 feet

It was a busy little site at Svinafell, and the proliferation of charging devices throughout the dining room reminded me that my power banks were running low and in need of attention. Luckily, the heavy persistent drizzle in the morning gave me plenty of opportunity to do so, I was going nowhere.
Reluctantly I started to pack up, it was still raining and my tent was soaked through.

Then, at nearly 1 pm the rain stopped and I made a run for it. I had 80 miles to go, but, Dan had told me – the previous evening – that it was relatively flat, and he would know as it’s his route to the supermarket.

The route continued over the volcanic plains, occasionally punctuated by glacial runoff swollen by the recent downpour. After 12 miles, I came across an N1 petrol station, and making for the cafe, was delighted to find an actual cafe not just a fast food restaurant in disguise. My selection was their Thai-spiced Coconut Curry soup, and very nice it was too.

After 20 miles, the road turned, and I picked up a glorious tailwind, whisking me along at 16 mph on the flat as I passed by the captivating glacial outflow from the icecap. This was cycle-touring, this was Iceland, this was just the best.

Then, 22 miles in, the weather changed in an instant, I was being battered by a fierce cross-headwind, attacked by rain, and my speed had dropped to 8 mph. Plummeting down to the drops on the handlebars, I wrestled the bike to keep it on the road. This was cycle-touring, this was Iceland. This was just the worst.

As I struggled along, I reevaluated my estimated finish time, a mile ago it was 10 pm, if this wind kept up it surely wouldn’t be before 1 am?

Then just when I didn’t think it could get any worse, I heard an aggressive squawking overhead, looking up to see an irate Arctic Tern preparing to dive bomb at my head. Continuing to wrestle with the bike I tucked my head even lower and pedalled furiously away. I felt the bird make a few swoops but, thankfully, it missed its mark.

Soon, the road turned once more, and my speed skyrocketed up to 13 mph, now this was more like it. Seeing cars parked up ahead, I remembered that this was the day I was to pass Jokulsarlon, and, looking through a gap between some low earth mounds to my left, I was sure I’d seen the ghostly spectre of icebergs floating in a large glacial lagoon.

Making my way between the mounds, I emerged to an indescribably majestic sight. If one moment was to make this whole journey worthwhile, this was the one. Icebergs floating and bobbing slowly out to sea, seals amongst them, enjoying the frigid temperatures.

I carried on along the road, stopping at the main visitor area where the spectacle only improved, huge blocks of ice floating just offshore, cloaked in an icy mist. Then, after I’d stayed for a while, and visited the cafe, the sun came out and I had to take my photos all over again.

I was only 32 miles into an 80 mile day, but the day had already been made. All I needed to do was pedal another 50 miles. I was soaked through, but if I kept pedalling, I kept warm, and there was a tailwind most of the way.

After 65 miles, I met another cyclist stopped by the side of the road, Ken. I’d chatted to him briefly as I was arriving at Jokulsarlon and he was leaving, so I knew that he had been on the road since 8 in the morning. He was a retiree, and had been living in Victoria, British Colombia, for almost 40 years. He had cycled right across Canada 22 years ago, and more recently Taiwan in early 2020. He kept a very active lifestyle between the cycling and frequent hiking trips to Nepal. We were able to compare notes on cycling down BC’s Sunshine Coast in the pouring rain.

We were both heading to Hofn, so cycled in together. Cue another violent wind reversal, Ken explained that it was glacier winds from passing near the end of the glacier. Soon the wind dissipated, only to be replaced by another violent bird attack. ‘They like you’, Ken yelled after me. Evidently, it would appear.

Finally, reaching the campsite at Hofn at 10:45, we were surprised to be able to visit the petrol station shop and check into the campsite before they closed for the night.

While I cooked dinner, I talked to a Brazilian couple, now based in Germany, who were most interested in my trip. They were following the Ring Road too, by campervan and had had a great day between trekking on the glaciers and canoeing in glacier melt water. I sat up til 3 o’clock chatting to Ken as we draped all of our wet gear across the various radiators in the small dining area.

After a while, a Korean cyclist, whom Ken had met back down the road, turned up to make some breakfast. Having arrived at the site at 1 o’clock the previous day, he’d apparently had too much sleep! It may have been his breakfast, but that didn’t stop him doling out Johnnie Walker for us all.

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