I put this report on my website in 2002 , but lost it when I changed ISP. Just found it on the Wayback Machine
Monday 1st July
Up early at Glasgow Youth Hostel, a quick breakfast then I get the bike out of the bike shed. I noticed the front end wobbling badly yesterday so I check the cones and headset to make sure they're OK. Everything seems fine to me but the bike still wobbles, time to find a bike shop. Gear Bikes in Gibson St were very helpful but can't find anything wrong with it.
I get the train from Glasgow Central to Paisley Gilmour St and then follow the cycle path to the airport. Once inside I find a quiet corner and take the pedals and bottle cages off the bike before turning the handlebars and wrapping the main tubes in bubblewrap. As I'm cutting things up with my knife a policeman comes over and starts chatting, he's a cyclist as well and wants to know where I'm going. At least he isn’t pointing a gun at me.
Check in is painless, they take my panniers off me and tell me to take the bike through some doors at the end of the hall, I get a little bit lost but my policeman friend points me in the right direction.
I get a window seat at the back of the plane and am pleased to see them being careful as they load my bike onto the conveyor.
The flight is uneventful and I get a good view of a glacier before landing at Keflavik. The bike is waiting for me in the luggage collection area and the panniers come through on the conveyor. I collect all my stuff and check the bike out, a little dent in my new rear rack but no other damage.
There is another English cyclist at the airport, Dave Clark who flew in from Heathrow. Neither of us has a route planned so we decide to ride to Keflavik itself and stay at the campsite there for the first night.
I wobble my way to the campsite which is nicely situated next to a supermarket and has big earth banks all around as windshields. Put the tent up and then stock up with food at the supermarket and fuel for my stove at the garage.
The campsite costs 600Kr and has a nice room where you can cook and eat in bad weather. There is also a lot of spare food and fuel left by people going home. Free hot showers with a strong smell of Sulphur. Supper is pasta and ham, I phone home and give the bike a final tweak before crawling into my sleeping bag at 10:00 in broad daylight.
Tuesday 2nd July – 36Km
A quiet, dry night. Breakfast of coffee, ham, cheese, bread and a carton of Skyr, the local yoghurty stuff. Dave heads off towards Grindavik, I pack the tent away and ride the bike around Keflavik whilst deciding which way to go, North to Reykjavik or South along the coast. The front of the bike is still wobbling at any speed so I spend some time experimenting with different weights in the front panniers. Nothing seems to work and it would be dangerous to ride like this so I end up leaving them with the campsite manager. This drastically reduces my luggage space, out goes the smart trousers for evenings, the fleece sweater, the books and the jar of peanut butter and herbs, spices and olive oil.
I decide to go south towards Grindavik and leave Keflavik at approximately 11:30. Local children are busy cutting grass and tending flowerbeds at the roadside. I later learn that all children above a certain age are assigned paid work during the summer (although half their wages are taxed for their education).
The first part of the day is on a sealed road going past the NATO air base at Keflavik, I see some helicopters and a couple of F-18's on patrol. The road is flat with lots of barren lava to either side, some of it covered with grey-green lichen. Weather is quite warm with broken cloud and no wind.
A little further on and I turn off onto the track for the headland and lighthouse at Reykjanesvita, I stop to take a few photos of the birds nesting on the seastacks then head back to the main road.
The good road has finished now, it's a rough, potholed dirt track and there are Arctic Terns nesting on both sides of the road. They do not like me riding through their nesting area and are very aggressive, dive bombing me with several near misses. I’m glad I brought a helmet !
As I approach Grindavik the lava turns to farmland, Grindavik itself although small has a supermarket and a good _free_ campsite with a sheltered cooking area but no showers. The campsite is next to a sports ground so we have lots of teenagers walking across the campsite, all very polite & well behaved.
Dave is already at the campsite having followed the same route so we swap impressions and talk about plans for the next few weeks. It's a warm sunny evening so I wash my shorts and socks before cooking pasta & tuna with a tomato & harissa sauce. Later on as it becomes colder I lie in the tent and listen to the World Service before going to sleep.
Wednesday 3rd July – 59Km
Up at 7:00, it’s still dry but overcast. Breakfast is muesli, coffee, bread and jam. Dave isn’t sure where he wants to go so I leave without him at 9:00. I head out of Grindavik going east on road 427.
Smooth tarmac quickly gives way to a nightmare 12% climb on a surface of very loose, coarse gravel over a bed of hardpack. My rear wheel starts spinning, half way up I get off before I fall off and start to push. My shoes won’t grip either… there are good views back to Grindavik as compensation.
The road levels off and the surface improves. Going down the other side is fast and loose, scary stuff but it would be worse going the other way.
I carry on along the coast, riding between weird lava formations called hoodoes. There is very little traffic but everything leaves a cloud of dust. The road is still loose gravel, twice my rear wheel skids sideways and I fall, bruising my left side.
There are thousands of wildflowers at the side of the road, growing between the rocks, I wish I could identify them but botany is a big gap in my knowledge. A guidebook would be useful but I’d have had to leave it behind anyway.
At the junction with F428 I stop for some bread and cheese and then head inland to the geothermal area at Krysuvik. On the right hand side of the road is a double hole filled with gloopy grey mud, steaming and bubbling away. I don’t think it would do much for your complexion if you fell in. On the left hand side of the road wooden walkways lead between rocks encrusted with multicoloured salts, gas vents and more pools of gloopy mud. The air smells like one of Satans farts and the signs say you are here at your own risk.
I carry on to the lake at Kleifarvatn before turning back towards the coast. The first 10K of F42 is smooth tarmac, it’s now sunny and I’ve got a tailwind. Bliss !
This doesn’t last long and I’m soon back on the loose, scrabbly stuff. It’s still sunny however and there are good views.
I reach Strandarkirkja where there is a campsite. I have a coffee in the café; the old lady running the place doesn’t speak much English but gives me some leaflets about the nearby church. There has been a church here since approx 1200 AD; the original was dedicated to the memory of Thomas Becket after his murder at Canterbury in 1170, the current building dates to the early 20th century.
The campsite is soft and flat. After a shower (in the café) I cook cheese and rice soup, not one of my more memorable creations…
I walk down to the church, a small white building of corrugated iron, overlooking the sea. It’s very peaceful in the evening sunshine. Walking back I’m dive-bombed by Arctic Terns again. Bed at 10:00.
Thursday 4th July – 79Km
Up to another warm sunny day and dry shorts. The tent is uncomfortably warm so it’s breakfast on the grass before leaving at 9:00. Back on the road I pull in to let an oncoming car past and the driver stops for a chat. He speaks good English and has been to England several times, both as a sailor and a tourist. He points out some of the mountains and names them for me as well as suggesting a few places to visit.
A little further on the gravel road ends and I’m onto Route 1, the hringhraut with smooth tarmac and fast drivers. I pass through the town of Hveragerdi (Hot Springs Garden) and head East. At Selfoss I buy bread, ham, tomatoes and orange juice and have lunch on the banks of the beautiful river Olfusa. As I’m eating an Icelandic man with two small children sits down for a talk, again he speaks excellent English, the only problem is my pronunciation of Icelandic place names.
Leaving Selfoss it’s very hot and I’m being pebbledashed with small stones by the busy traffic. To my left I can see Hekla and Tindfjalljokull whilst out to sea on my right are the Westmann Islands, unfortunately it’s too hazy to get any decent photo’s.
I reach Hella at 5:00 and pay 600Kr for the well-equipped campsite. There are several other cyclists here as well. After a shower I go o the nearby supermarket to get some food. Icelandic supermarkets don’t seem to sell small packs of meat. It all seems to be big multipacks, which are no good if you’re on your own or in a small group. I end up buying two burgers and have them with cous-cous and tomatoes.
Later on I discover that the big packs of meat are due to the Icelanders love of barbecues, given any chance they will cook outdoors. Tonight’s effort produces huge clouds of smoke, which engulf the clothes I’d hung up to dry and give them a distinctive flavour.
I lie in the tent listening to the locals getting drunk while I look at the map, I’ve been advised by the guidebook and the two locals I’d met earlier in the day not to go to Torsmork this weekend as it’s a national holiday and things get a little bit riotous…
Friday 5th July – 53Km
I wake up late and with a headache. It’s a cold grey morning and the tent is damp with condensation. That’s what you get for putting a campsite next to a river.
I don’t start until 10:00 and by 11:10 I’ve only done 8Km. There is a strong wind in my face and it stays there all day. It starts to drizzle so I put my yellow Gore-Tex jacket on for half an hour until it stops and I can take it off, when of course it promptly starts again..
Out to sea I can see the Westmann Isles through the mist but to my left there is just the occasional glimpse of mountain. The glacier Eyjafjallajokull is hidden in cloud.
The rain gets heavier so my overtrousers and a waterproof balaclava go on as well. It’s not torrential rain, or wind driven rain but it’s still cold and wet!
Traffic is much heavier today; the road is busy with campervans and trailer tents, people getting away early for the holiday weekend. Most of the vehicles give me a wide berth as they pass, lots of people wave at me, looking snug (smug?) and dry.
My chain is squeaking and I’m feeling tired, I give up the idea of reaching Skogar today and turn inland, riding on a dirt road up a valley to the campsite at Seljavellir.
This is a quiet family campsite with an outdoor pool and hot tub in which I swim and soak in the light drizzle. The clouds lift for a while allowing me to see some of the surrounding hills but the glacier is still invisible.
I cook tuna and rice in the tent doorway; the campsite is starting to fill up with several groups of cars arriving together. If it wasn’t so damp I think things would be quite festive and noisy so I’m glad of the heavier rain, which starts at 10:30. I want to sleep!
Saturday 6th July – 48km
I wake up at 7:30 but it’s raining so I roll over and go back to sleep for a while. After coffee, muesli and a quick oil of the chain I’m away at 11:45!
It’s still cold, windy and damp but not as bad as yesterday. There is not much to look at though beyond the farms singling at the foot of the mountains. At one farm some of the outbuildings seem to be built into the cliffs themselves.
When I reach Skogar I’m glad I didn’t make it last night. There must be over a thousand people at the campsite. Most of them seem to be drunk and there is a definite party atmosphere despite the cold and rain. Now I know where all yesterdays’ traffic was going! A short ride past the campsite is Skogafoss, an impressive 60m waterfall. You can’t go near it without full waterproofs unless you don’t mind being soaked in spray. Luckily I’m dressed for the occasion..
A few Km down the road I cross the bridge over the sulphurous Jokulsa river and then follow a dirt road inland to the snout of the Solheimajokull glacier, a long tongue of ice sticking out of the face of Mydalsjokull. It’s too misty to see anything but dirty grey ice though so I quickly turn around and go back the way I came.
Just before the town of Vik the road goes up for a bit and then drops down in a 10% slope, it’s not as much fun as it should be though as I can see the even steeper climb out of the valley ahead!
A long 12% gradient and then it’s down to Vik, officially the wettest place on Iceland. I put the tent up and pay for the campsite, 400Kr plus 200Kr for a shower. There’s a good indoor kitchen area but the wash block is a bit grim.
In need of food I head for the supermarket, which is closed. There are no other shops so I walk down to the much-photographed sea-stacks of Reynisdrangur and then walk back along the black sand beach.
At the campsite I meet Martin and Richard, two Swedish cyclists who’ve been following the same route as me. They have ridden from Hella today, I must try to make earlier starts!
My food stocks are a bit low so it’s just pasta and cheese cooked in the kitchen. I manage to make a mess of one of the pans and leave the communal scouring pad clogged with cheese.
I give the bike a check and tighten all the nuts then phone home. Unfortunately I forget about the hour time difference and wake them up!