Distance: 54.09 miles

Time: 4:17:29

Average Speed: 12.6 mph

Elevation Gain: ~4000 feet (inaccurate reading due to tunnel)

Last night, as I’d arrived at the Nature Baths, I’d bumped into two other cyclists, Pierre and Jenie, from the Savoie in France, they were going around the ring road clockwise, and so we were able to appraise each other of what lay ahead.

When I’d left the baths, their bikes had been replaced by an easily identifiable pink Trek gravel bike, with Ortlieb bikepacking bags, and the owner had now camped just over from me. Their owner, Sabina, from Poland, but now living in Switzerland, was on her first bikepacking excursion, and was 3 weeks in, having already taken a route through the remote westfjords. She was planning to avoid the ring road as much as possible, and stay off-road entirely when she could.

Leaving the campsite, I made for the fish and chip shop across the road before striking out on the route around two sides of Lake Myvatn. A pleasant river valley followed, the gushing water hinting at recent rains.

The road began to rise, falling slightly to continue along the side of lovely Lake Masvatn, soon, it plummeted down the other side, the wind whisking me along, a little too quick for comfort.

After Laugur, and the warmth of a coffee, I started to look for the climb up ahead, and there it was, steep hairpins started by turning back into the wind. Crossing the plateau, was troublesome too, the wind forcing me sidewards, into gravel just off route. Even more dangerous when lorries passed, wind shadows, pulling me inwards if I didn’t react fast.

Rolling down the hill, I spotted another little tourist attraction up ahead, the waterfall of the gods, Godafoss.

After 10 miles, blown along valley roads, I approached a fork. Left was shorter, but with a tunnel, right was over twice as long… This time the tunnel was 7.5 K, with even more downhill than the other day. I noticed the climate changed on the way through, hot at the top became really quite cool.

The thunderous echoes of vehicles passing was nothing compared to the sound of a giant series of roaring fans, hanging from the ceiling.

Emerging into pitiful conditions in Eyjafjordur, I raced across the bridge to Akureyri, and, dived inside the first place I found, a fast food restaurant, just on the other side.

Battling along the fjord-side bike path, on my way to the campsite, I did have to wonder, who comes to Iceland, this early in summer?

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