Iceland. Was it Real?

Once in a lifetime, in all the ways. 

This trip was utterly unique. My good friend, Jeff has a long bucket list. This was at the top. Jeff is possibly the most comprehensive researcher of things, and Iceland kept ringing his bell. So in 2022 Jeff finds a video of a tour of Iceland via Alter Exploration. The video lays out Chris Case's gravel journey around the island, accompanied by a friend and fellow masochist. The video was daunting. When I first watched it, I was like. Uh...no.

Time passes. Conversations continue. I get dumber. 

Jeff books a Zoom conversation with Chris Case and I. yada yada yada. I'm in. 

More time passes. Bike procured. MASSIVE OUTLAY FOR BIKE PACKING GEAR. 

One dry run to Emma Long Park. One night of camping in April.

Training begins in earnest. More Z2 than I have ridden in my cumulative bike life. 

Iceland Summary

Iceland recalibrates limits. I love the bike. Love to ride. To me, 10 hours a week is commitment. I am not a seasoned bike packer, nor a Cat1 level rider. Both my experience and my FTP made me super apprehensive about this trip. For a few reasons. Chris Case is ridiculously strong, and weighs as much as a ballerina. And the dude breathes bikepacking. Also, Jeff constantly rips my legs off. There was pause for concern, y'all. 

But I did train hard, and heeded Chris Case's packing advice. And I do in fact ride a lot. 

Jeff and I flew over together, connecting through Chicago. It's only 5.5 hours to Iceland thanks to the Great Circle. Take that flat earthers. We landed at 0830 Reykjavik time, grabbed an espresso, built our bikes and got down to business. This is an effective way to eliminate jet lag. 

Day1:

It rains in Iceland. A lot. Day 1 was rainy. Temps in the 50s, and wind can range from zero to what the actual fuck is happening. Wind was not a problem Day1. Rain was not sideways. In hindsight, it was a pretty nice Iceland day. In the moment, it felt like a rough start. Pulling 60 pounds of gear on cinder trails in the rain, we arrived bleary-eyed in the industrial outskirts of Reykjavik. Just two hours into the saga, we stopped at a nice little strip-mall bakery. Having been advised to gorge, I just wasn't hungry. So I enjoyed a chocolate croissant, while my compatriots both had pastries and odd-combo sandwiches (wtf is a pizza taco?) Chris suggested we pack a sandwich for dinner,  as the campground resto we were targeting closed relatively early. I selected a delightful turkey and white cheese sandwich, wrapped it in a paper bag and jammed it in the back middle pocket of my jersey. As we were leaving, my glasses broke. A little tape was procured (see pic below) and the adventure resumed. 

We reached the campground after 68 miles of work. It was raining lightly but consistently all day, and when we pulled into the pingvellir national park campground, I was definitely ready to get warm, get dry and eat. The camp had a laundry room, where we huddled to warm up. we draped our gear on the drying racks, and grabbed "dinner." I hadn't thought about that sandwich in five hours. 

LESSON ONE: when packing a sandwich in Iceland, secure it in a location that keeps it as dry as possible. 

LESSON TWO: when packing a sandwich in Iceland, ensure it is in a location that does not compress the contents of the sandwich.

When I reached into my pocket for dinner, I removed a carnival sideshow atrocity. My sandwich was no longer a sandwich. Bread and paper had congealed into a mayo-flavored paste, coating the protein like a fourth grade art project that was ready for the kiln. Well, shit. 

I was hungry. So i scraped off the bread/paper detritus, and ate the remaining matter. Throw in two gels, and some energy chews. Dinner complete. 

LESSON THREE: when bikepacking, do not expect your compatriots to share. It's every person for themself on the tundra. While this may seem hard. It makes sense, and I was totally ok with it. Well, my stomach was angry, but whatever. 

Camp was pretty uneventful. Some campers were cooking up paella in the common area, which was torture. Turns out, they were from Austin. Unreal. 

Day2:

Breakfast was deeply religious. Two pastries and a sandwich. and some yogurt. The decadence of eating was counterbalanced by fear crouching in the shadow of the rest of the trip. I was already off balance, and only one day on the bike. What was I thinking? There was work to do. and a lot of it. The plan for Day 2 was about 75 miles of mixed roads, most of which was through the Kaldidalur. This is a highland area, spanning about 40km from entry to exit. It was eery. A lot of climbing (see elevation profile) on the dirt, and a SCREAMING dirt descent that rattled nerves and fillings.

Clouds and sprinkles and dirt

Dirt errywhere

We had a splendid lunch 40 miles into the day. Never underestimate the  power of a burger. Up the road a bit, we stopped for a photo op at this amazing waterfall. In hindsight, this was the best one. And we saw SO MANY. The remainder of the day was both glorious and uneventful. Here is a pic of me walking the bike up a ratty ass gravel "road." This marked the only time in the ride where I had to walk it. Thank you Chris Case for making this moment eternal!

We ended Day 2 at a bed and breakfast on/in Bifrost. This was the launch point to the West Fjords. Everything about this place was good. 

Here are the elements of good:

1. Hot showers
2. Clean towels
3. Good food 
4. Beer
5. Clean, dry bed
6. Clean hot tub
7. Amazing breakfast (see Day 3)

Day 3:

Great night sleep, great breakfast. At a breakfast buffet resplendent with options, we talked about the day. Chris floated the psychological concept of "chunking," which basically means living in the moment. Break the day up into micro-challenges, in chunks, to more easily digest the mammoth challenge. I have never been great at chunking. I have always embraced the illusion of control. This experience stripped bare that illusion. Control on this trip boiled down to the pedal crank between now and a moment from now. Beyond that, only Floki knew what was coming. 

The route for Day 3 called for some immediate attention. Less than two miles in, we hit a big climb, as you can see on the elevation profile. Looking back, this was the easiest day. At this point, I had not surpassed my typical weekly mileage, and my energy levels seemed fine. 

We encamped in a field that overlooked a small river, ate whatever we had in our pockets, and enjoyed the campground amenities. Hot showers are pretty, pretty nice. Also available was a pool and a hot tub. We hit the hot tub. Soon after we hopped in the hot tub, we were joined by three Icelandic Natives. They came from hearty stock. Definitely some shield maidens in their Ancestry.com results. One of them hopped in right in Chris' face, giving him some unique insight to the aging process of genitalia and its surrounding areas. Thanks Chris, for taking one for the team. 


Day 4:

Chris shared with us that Day 4 is typically the toughest day. Both physiologically and mentally. I felt fine and was thinking I had plenty in the tank. 

Chris was right. We had a light dinner on day 3, and no real breakfast on Day 4. Day four was nearly a hundo, plus 7k feet of climbing. By the time we got to lunch (Mile 50), I was feeling it. I had no idea how I was gonna continue. We stopped at a hotel in the middle of nowhere, at the inside edge of Vatnsfjordur. We had a buffet of mostly fish options, some bread and other sides. I went thru the line once, but still felt super puny. Sat there for forty minutes, seriously considering my life choices. And then the miracle of digestion. Energy seeped back into my body. It was truly amazing. BOOOM. I am back in business!

While we had fifty left, it went super fast. It's all about the fuel. The ride was splendid. Definitely colder than Keflavik, but it was dry. And the beauty cannot really be described. Big climb into Patreksfjordur, where after some faffing about we found a room at a B&B. Heaven on earth, y'all. Great fish dinner, albeit small portions, followed by a trip to the gas station for a bonus sleeve of McVitties and a couple of bags of chips. Fuel was again topped off. Added bonus was access to the laundry room. Washed some gear, and was able to dry it too! BONUS! 

Day 5:

I know I seem preoccupied with food. But yeah. It was top of mind. And Day 5 was the true test of Iceland. 10k feet of climb packed into 72 miles. Pedal stroke #1 was uphill. 

Who needs a warmup when you have 51 teeth in your cassette? After the second major climb we dropped into Bildudalar for lunch. Fish and Chips were legendary! And it was getting noticeably colder. 

Ahoy!

The remainder of the day was work, man. Like climbing, climbing, climbing. Mostly on dirt. Just wow. And the wind. OMG. We got to the top of our third climb, and it was BLOWING. Almost knocked Jeff off his bike. Chris was waiting for us at the top, chatting with some kids that were about to descend the hill we had just climbed. The top of that climb (Trostansfjordur) was more lunar than earthlike. We then dropped down a paved descent and then climbed more dirt. Then, WHEEEEEEEEE. a massive dirty descent into a sweet waterfall vista. Tons of tourists and a few cyclists (Wyoming and French) were enjoying the view. We invited the cyclists to join us, but they could not hold Chris' wheel. His strength is legendary amongst the natives! That is all the sheep were talking about. 

We rolled into the campground cold and hungry. We were serious popsicles at check in. Chris scolded us for acting like kids in the back seat on vacation, just letting Dad do all the work. I will own that. But damn, I was FREEZING. Windy, and it was starting to rain. A quick camp assembly, then after putting on all of my dry clothes, we were off to the gas station for some Icelandic specialties. The food was really pedestrian. But, also glorious. We ate, drank a few near beers, then headed back. Interesting fact: you can only buy shitty near beer at these roadside gas stations. It worked great in our case, because we were so under-caloried, and dehydrated, that near beer was more than enough. Post dinner. I climbed in my sleeping bag knowing that I only had 30 miles left in my saga. It went so slow and so fast.

check out our neighbor!

Day 6:

Last day in the saddle was a slog. HUGE headwind, and a little rain. AND COLD. We rolled around yet another fjord, with Other Chris doing most of the work. Finally, he turned and said "hey, isn't this your last day?" :) hiding was over, so I got in the front and did some grinding. The highlight of the ride was a massive tunnel. It was a highlight for two reasons. First, it was really cool. Very Very dark and eery. altogether safe, and we had our blinkies activated. It was generally a one lane experience, but traffic was really light. Second, it was both flat and dry. Both of these things were a major fucking blessing at this point. Loved it. 

We popped out of the tunnel and had another 5 miles of icy headwind to get to Isafjordur. We checked into our place, and promptly dug out everything to dry. Hot showers are amazing. Here is us as we rolled into town:

If you ever find yourself in Isafjordur, I highly suggest a meal at Tsorhusid ("Thor's House" in Icelandic). It's a buffet style meal, with two seatings per evening. We gorged on the best fish ever, accompanied by some Viking lager (full gas). The only downer was that they were not served in curved horns. I think they are missing an opportunity here. It was easily the best meal of the trip. A true celebration. Speaking of full gas, I think dinner caused Chris some gastric distress, mostly because he eats like a bird normally. And we chowed down. SO SO SO GOOD. 

https://www.ferdalag.is/en/service/tjoruhusid

So it was over. Next day, I rode my bike to the airport, checked it in its au naturale state with absolutely no objections, and hopped on a puddle jumper. BOOM, an hour later I was in Reykjyavik. 

It was so fun. As I think back, nothing can prepare you for it. The raw landscape. The incredibly fickle weather that explains why Loki was a thing. The dramatic landscape and elevation. And maybe most importantly, the opportunity to be in a moment. To focus. Whether climbing a mountain, descending it, making camp, or enjoying the campground hot tub. Or laughing your ass off at the sight of Chris getting muffbombed. Or enjoying a Mars bar for dinner! All of that is just a tasty slice of the whole. I will be savoring the memories for some time. Alter Exploration, thanks to Chris Case, gave me an opportunity to broaden my horizons, and that is a priceless gift. Oh, and I am not likely to do it again.