Distance: 69.15

Time: 5:41:34

Average Speed: 12.1 mph

Elevation Gain: 3,576 feet

It was a beautiful morning in the stunning environs of Hamrar campsite, the Scouts’ outdoor centre, just outside Akureyri.

Rolling back down the hill into town, on an extensive network of excellent cycle paths, I found it to be a much more welcoming place this morning.

After second breakfast – a slice of pizza and an excellent pastry from Kristjan’s bakery – I made my way out to a large retail park, to find a shop to buy some brake pads. Whilst I was installing them, I heard a ‘is that a B17’ from behind, as good a cycle-tourist’s opening gambit, as ever I’ve heard. For those not au fait with a B17, it’s a Brooks leather saddle, and I’d not be here without mine.

Justin, it would appear, also had one, on his Surly touring bike. He was a student from Texas, who was cycling around Iceland, clockwise. He had previously ridden from Greece to the Netherlands, and was making a documentary of the trip, and carrying a guitar to write music as he went!

Following the cycle path out of town, I started to leave the fjord behind, before skirting around the edge of the mountains and beginning the long gradual climb up the Oxnadalsheidi, the best part of 25 miles, straight into a headwind.

The scenery was fantastic on a bright, blustery day, and I was almost ready for the steep bit at the top.

But, then I realised, I’d lost a shoe back down the road, I can’t have secured my pannier right and it’d fallen overboard. Unsure, how far back it could be, and devastated to be losing the height I’d gained, I retraced my steps for 3 miles, where, thankfully, it sat, right on the edge of the road.

Shoe recovered, I struggled back up, to 40 minutes before, then carrying on, had the steepest section to do. 1.5 miles of switchbacks at almost 7%, I settled into my lowest gear, and gradually ground my way up the hill, refusing to stop, regardless of what my legs might say.

What followed, was a fast flowing descent, as the road spiralled its way down through the valley, opening out onto open plains.

Pedalling fast, I was keen to reach the petrol station in Reykjahlid before they closed, I needed a beer. ‘Yes, no problem’, the attendant said, ‘but you know you have to drink it in here?’ No, I couldn’t say that requiring to drink alcoholic drinks in filling station premises was an Icelandic rule I knew well, but that’s what I’d be doing, so one bottle of Viking, if you please.

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?

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.