Distance: 73.07 miles

Time: 5:25:26

Average Speed: 13.5 mph

Elevation Gain: 2,857 feet

It was bright sunshine that roused me this morning, and the opportunity to dry some clothes didn’t go amiss.

Back on the road, the answer to my question of why was the guesthouse out here, in the middle of nowhere was promptly answered, when, immediatedly, there was a sharp 40 minute climb, and I was transported onto a high plateau at over 480m.

Howling wind and rain battered the post-volcanic landscape, I didn’t want to stay up here for long. But, clearly, that wasn’t my decision to make, and after the road descended a little, it started to climb again, maxing out at over 570 metres, but, this time there was a reward, a 20 mph tailwind. For 15 glorious miles, I was blown down a barely perceptible downhill slope, at over 20 miles an hour.

After my time was up, I had only descended to just under 500 metres, so after a brief struggle with the wind, I had regained much of the lost height and was ready to play all over again.

By 30 miles I’d swooped down to a lower plateau, and, needing to thaw out, I began looking for somewhere sheltered to pull over. Suddenly, I saw a mirage on the horizon, except it wasn’t, it was a cafe, and it was just over there.

Stepping inside, I was shocked when the ramshackle petrol station outbuilding, 40 miles from the nearest town, was not merely serviceable, but actually quite nice. I ordered most of what they had, which left me with quite a medley. Icelandic lamb soup, a hot dog, and a couple of twisted doughnuts, washed down with refills of coffee.

Leaving the high plateau, after eventually reaching 596 metres elevation, the dark greys and ochres were traded for the greens and shimmering azure lakes of the lower plains.

After 70 miles, I reached the outer confines of the Lake Myvatn geothermal area, following the hordes, my first stop was Hverir, a landscape littered with bubbling sulphurous mud pools.

Afterwards, I was planning a soak at the Lake Myvatn Nature Baths, only the small matter of a 10% climb standing in my path. So, when I realised that the wind would be blowing me up the steep grade, it should have been easy, but for the halo of flies which encircled me the whole way.

The Nature Baths featured a lovely sprawling series of pools, and a convenient pool bar, but lacked the satisfying warmth of the Secret Lagoon, so I tried the steam room.

Mostly refreshed, I made my way to Bjarg campsite, with its stunning position right on the shores of Lake Myvatn, this would do nicely, for tonight.

Distance: 63.06 miles

Time: 5:14:03

Average Speed: 12.0 mph

Elevation Gain: 5,309 feet

Today started badly, when I was woken at 5:50 am, with rain bouncing off the roof of the tent, most unfortunate when I’d left 100% of my cycling base layers drying outside. Luckily, I’d left them hanging in a tree and the tree had sheltered them well.

After the morning’s false start, I slept right through until 9:40, and with the persistent drizzle continuing, maybe I wouldn’t be going anywhere soon.

Leaving the campsite under a deluge, I hotfooted it along to Sumarlina cafe, just along the road. With pizza their speciality, ordering was easy, the only decision was what size.

Layering up, I struck out into the rain, only for the rain to stop, immediately after I began. I started to head inland, a tunnel consumed my thoughts. A 6 kilometre tunnel, could anything be any worse?

With trepidation, I climbed up the 5 miles to the entrance, well, here goes nothing… The road rose gently as I made my way inside, but soon it flattened off and I settled in for the ride.

I guessed that the tunnel, could go one of two ways, and when I saw it disappear ahead, I knew it could be great. And it was, 3.5 km of flying descent on a good surface. This really hadn’t been worth worrying about at all.

Emerging into the relatively bland Reydarfjordur, and pleased I hadn’t pushed on this far last night, I quickly found the escape road, a 10 mile climb into the hinterland.

Reaching a high plateau at 370 metres, I started to feel rain approaching from the side, but the wind whisked me along at such a rate, that it had no chance to catch me, and as I flew down the other side – at up to 40 mph – I felt like that was the rain bypassed for the rest of the day.

But, after a leisurely dinner at the diner in Egilsstadir, it had caught back up, and as I cycled 30 miles along one side, and then another, of a low mountain range, persistent drizzle was my constant companion, rain clouds appearing like ghostly apparitions overhead.

Then, when I was suitably soaked, after a long 10 mile climb up the valley, as if by magic, the rain stopped and there was Skjoldolfsstadir Guest House and campground. At 10:50, luckily, reception was still open, I needed a beer.

Distance: 67.30 miles

Time: 5:48:24

Average Speed: 11.6 mph

Elevation Gain: 5,538 feet

Overall Distance: 501 miles

Admittedly, yesterday had been pretty grim, but, in cycle-touring, the only certainty is change, and now that the temporary suffering was over, the positives were clear. After 7 days on the road, I was exactly where I had hoped to be, very positive. No injuries or niggles to report. The bike was riding well, with no real mechanical issues. I’d been able to take a shower this morning and all of my cycling kit was now dry. It was a beautiful day and Djupivogur was a lovely spot.

After Ken sorted an issue with his front pannier rack mount, I headed off, planning to visit the supermarket then get on the road. But, on reaching the harbour at the bottom of the hill I was drawn in by the strong fish and chip shop smell of the cafe across the road. Just when I was finishing my lunch, Ken showed up too – cycle-tourists are a predictable bunch – even those carrying 10 kilos of food on their bikes.

Heading back out of the village, the road undulated along the side of a pretty fjord, Berufjordur, the first of several of the route and by far the longest. It was 25 miles before I was level with Djupivogur again but on the other side.

On leaving the fjord, I was now skirting the North Atlantic coastline, altogether wilder and more exposed. The birds seemed agitated all along this stretch, and I felt like I was living out an Alfred Hitchcock film, as I tried to decide just what their bird calls meant. Then there was the ominous click and squawk combination that I’d grown accustomed to. This time I didn’t have to look above me to see the Tern divebombing at my head, with the sun behind me I could see it happening in silhouette.

I turned into the next, smaller fjord, and was keen to reach the small town of Breiddalsvik, it was now 8 o’clock and I hoped to get something to eat. But, the attractive fishing village felt more like a model village for bus tours and nothing was open.

Some bread and peanut butter later, I made my way around the coast to my next fjord. Remote but beautiful, the Glen Torridon-esque hills towered over me on all sides as I thundered down the 12 percent hill to the head of the fjord.

Soon I arrived at the pretty harbour town of Stodvarfjordur, the harbour and corrugated metal church looking resplendent in the evening light.

As the sun went down, another picturesque stretch along the Atlantic followed, before, ultimately, I reached the last fjord, Faskrudsfjordur, and after some challenging climbs along its steep flanks, I arrived at the Faskrudsfjordur campsite, with simple portacabin toilets, and beautiful views, even at half past 11 at night.

Well, after yesterday, today had certainly been a change…

Distance: 65.98 miles

Time: 6:04:38

Average Speed: 10.9 mph

Elevation Gain: 4,475 feet

Still raining this morning, I decided to go to the pool along the road. Ken was up too and heading for the supermarket, but said that he would see me at the next campsite.

When I reached the supermarket, Ken’s bike was still outside. After we’d shopped, we grabbed something to eat together at a seating area at the front of the store. He still had to visit another shop and was now less certain about pushing all the way to Djupivogur that day, so we parted company once more.

Heading out of town, at half past 4, it was drizzling lightly, and conditions weren’t too bad as I rolled along beside the rocky coastline. After 6 miles, I came across another cyclist heading in the opposite direction. He was from Raleigh, North Carolina, and his bike was seriously loaded. All things being well, he would be flying out of Reykjavik on the same day as me, so maybe I’ll see him there.

One thing he’d said that concerned me, was that the weather was much worse on the other side of the tunnel, and, looking ahead, I could now see one just up ahead. The tunnel was uphill and over a kilometre long, and coming out the other side was like the land that seasons forgot. Several degrees colder, persistent drizzle, and a howling wind, was this really midsummer?.

Within half an hour, I was soaked through and my temperature was falling fast. High mountains flanked my left hand side and turbulent air plummeted off the mountain ridges I passed, whipping my bike around and slowing me down to 6 mph.

Soon I climbed high above the sea, black stacks littering the coastline, a splendid vista on any other day, but for now, I was just too cold to enjoy it.

Then I saw commotion on the hillside to my left, some people were running up the steep slopes trying to take pictures of a couple of large caribou higher up the hill.

Eventually, I reached the fjord I was looking for, and the campsite was just the other side, or so I thought until I read the sign, 21 km to go. The road continued like a rollercoaster, the surface becoming loose and rough, I tried to pedal as long as I could but soon I’d had enough. 2/3rds of the way up the penultimate climb, the road steepened and my bike squirmed on the loose stones, and that was that, I pushed it up the rest.

Arriving at the campsite at quarter past 11, I was soaked through and chilled to the bone, desperate to get some shelter from the elements for the first time in 65 miles, I tried to access the facilities building, but was unable without a code.

With frozen fingers on a rain splattered screen, I entered my details on the online booking form, then came the cruel sting in the tail. To complete my booking and gain access to the building, I was required to upload a photo of my tent, which was yet to be built. As the wind whipped around me, I became desperate when I discovered that there was a base of stones just below the grass. 3 pegs were damaged in the process.

Finally, warm and dry and happily ensconced inside, with drying clothes around me, I couldn’t believe it, when at 20 to 2 in the morning, Ken rolled into view. I really hoped you’d found somewhere sooner, I said.