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The land of fire and ice...
- Jun 27
- 13 min read
It’s time for the rough stuff.
By Jon Newey - retired Architect, Blood Bike rider, Adventure traveler - with Tigger - Triumph Tiger 800 XRX
We’re in Hirtshals, on the northern tip of Denmark. We’re in the ferry port. It is 9:00 am. There are about thirty bikes lined up in the queue for the ferry. They are all bristling with crash bars, multiple sat-navs, peaked helmets and knobbly tyres. Most of them are German but there are a few Dutch, one Swiss and two French. The French bikes puzzle me. These guys must have ridden a fair distance to
get here but the riders have no luggage and are dressed in jeans and hoodies. The only thing one of them has on his bike is a puncture repair kit strapped onto the pillion seat. He sits and smokes a Galloise. He isn’t even wearing socks. Chilled out or what! Turns out they’re both riding with a support truck, a big black and orange 4x4 with sand-ramps and shovels. Makes sense now, but surely that’s cheating? La tricherie!!
There are lots of chunky-looking 4x4s in the queue too, all with high-level exhausts and multiple spare tyres. There are no family saloons pulling caravans! Seriously, is Iceland that challenging?
Loading Tigger into a ferry is now a well-worked routine. Ride up the slippery ramp. Park where told to. Leave the engine in first gear. Velcro strap on the front brake lever. Secure the bike to the deck with the hooks and straps provided. The hooks and straps provided are very rusty. I don’t trust them. I add a couple of figure-of-eight knots for good measure.
Next I need to find my cabin. I say ‘cabin’ but in fact all I have is a mattress on a bunk in a tiny cupboard with five other blokes. I don’t have money to burn….not like Itchy Boots when she did this crossing!
The only proper cabins available on this ferry are 4-berth, so if you’re traveling solo you have to pay the already-exorbitant Danish price four times over. So all the solo bikers and hikers are in the cheap couchette cupboards. The couchettes are down on deck two, below the car decks. There are no windows (who needs them?), no bedding (bring a sleeping bag) and there are communal showers and toilets. I’m hoping that being down below the waterline means I’ll be less badly affected by any stormy seas in the Skagerrak. Fingers crossed.
Out on deck it is windy but the sun is shining. Later today there will be a lecture about the Faroe Islands. Tomorrow, a lecture about Iceland. There’s a swimming pool, a sauna, a hot tub, a cinema, a pub quiz. There’s even a library. Two days and two nights – I’ll be fine.
Later that evening, after a gut-busting all-you-can-eat buffet, I find a seat in the high-up top-deck panoramic ‘sky’ lounge. From there I can watch the sun go down over the prow of the ship. Words fail, see photo. I finish my book (Jamaica Inn) and swap it for one from the library (Pride and Prejudice With Zombies). It all feels very relaxing…..but I would still rather be riding Tigger!
Next day the ferry makes a scheduled stop in the Faroe Isles. Fun fact: The Faroe Isles are managed by Denmark but they are not part of the EU. I discover this fact after switching on my phone to check for messages while the ferry is in signal-range in Torshavn harbour. Ping. ‘Hi! You just spent half your daily budget on a Rest-of-the-World roaming charge. Have a nice day’. I don’t know any rude words in Faroese, but I’m sure I could learn some…!
After two days and two nights at sea I’m happy to be back in the car deck getting Tigger ready as the ferry makes its way into Iceland’s Seydisfjorder Harbour. While we wait inside the ferry for the anchors to drop (or whatever it is they do instead) I chat to the two German bikers beside me. They’re from Bremen. They went to Nordkapp a few years ago. They tell me it is a very long way. I ask them about the Bremerhaven road races, also known as the Fish Harbour Races. I’ve been to watch them before (an utterly crazy event…) but haven’t heard about them in a while. No, they say, the Harbour races have been permanently axed because they were too dangerous. I can’t argue, to be honest, but it’s a shame to hear of another road-racing fixture forever lost to history.
It’s a dry, mild day as Tigger and I negotiate the steel ramps and emerge from the ferry onto a tarmac car park. We’re in Iceland! There’s a bank of fog hugging the edges of the fjord as we make our way up the twisty tarmac road heading for the north part of the island. The only big town, Reykjavik, is in the south. More than 80% of Iceland’s inhabitants live there. I intend to give it a miss. I hope to cross the central plateau, and explore the north and western fjords. My target for tonight is the small town of Akureyri which sits at the head of one of the north fjords. The island’s main ring road, the ‘1’ will take me there, so today is a relatively simple day’s ride on good tarmac. The ‘1’ is an interesting road, none-the-less. It goes over a few high, snowy passes, has a few twisty sections, and goes past every size and shape of waterfall you can imagine.
We take a detour to Dettifoss, Iceland’s largest waterfall. It’s impressive (although I’ve been to both the Victoria Falls and Niagara Falls before so my concept of ‘big’ when it comes to waterfalls is slightly skewed). There’s a snack bar at the car park selling Icelandic meat soup. I buy a cup – delicious. I guess it must be lunch time although I’m not entirely sure. Icelandic time is one hour behind British Summer Time, whereas Danish time is CET which is one hour ahead of BST. The ferry’s clocks were somewhere in between. So right now my watch, my phone, my satnav and Tigger’s dashboard all say different things. I imagine they will sort themselves out….in time.
By late afternoon we’re approaching Akureyri. There’s a tunnel that cuts off a 15km loop of road over a high pass, but who wants to miss that? I take a right turn to avoid the tunnel, and the road over the pass rewards me with mountains and fjords like I’ve never seen before. Twenty minutes later we’re swooping down into the town. Tonight I have been offered free accommodation by a couple of Icelandic bikers, part of the Bunk a Biker network. There’s a bit of a mix up on the address – Garmin copes badly with spelling errors and the Icelandic language has extra bonus letters in its alphabet - but I get to the right place eventually. I’m expecting to roll out my sleeping bag on a sofa, but instead I’m offered the whole apartment to myself. Amazing. All I need now is to find some food and fall into my bed! My legs still feel like they’re on a moving ship. It’s a strange sensation.
Next morning I’m up nice and early. I have a long day’s ride ahead of me. Today I plan to ride one of the ‘F’ roads right across the centre of the island. The ‘F’ roads don’t have tarmac on them. They come in two varieties, ‘major’ and ‘minor’. I’m opting for a major one, the F35. The minor ones will be too gnarly for me, and too gnarly for a heavy adventure bike with 30kg of luggage! In any case, it’s inadvisable to tackle the minor F roads without a partner or some backup. The F35 should be OK.
The first hour of my day is spent on the main ‘1’ road, but then we turn left past a sign saying 4x4’s only. There’s another sign saying ‘impassible’, but I pretend I haven’t seen it. What a road. The surface varies from hard-packed gravel, to loose rocky sections. The loose rocks are mostly on the steep slopes. Tigger struggles because the traction-control keeps cutting the engine. Ooops. I forgot to change engine modes! Changing to the off-road setting makes a huge difference but I have to remember to set it again after every time I stop.....and I keep forgetting. The road twists and turns over an incredible landscape. We’re soon on a high rocky plane with a ring of snowy peaks around us. I see no other bikes but an occasional 4x4 catches me up and passes me with a toot and a wave and a shower of gravel. We cross streams and narrow wooden bridges. Rocks thump against the sump-guard. The suspension bottoms whenever I hit a pothole.
I stop to fly my drone and accidentally fly it directly into the back of my own head. Doink! Fortunately I’m still wearing my helmet! The drone stops and hovers, looking back at me as if to say ‘Really…?’ More pilot practice required!
I have sandwiches with me, courtesy of my hosts in Akureyri, so I stop to eat them. It is cool and overcast and there’s no wind. Over to the east we can see the Langjokull glacier. Small birds flit about over the icy lagoons as we go past. They fly along with me. They love to race! It is magical.
Four hours later it’s done. We’ve emerged at the other end after 150km of knobbly-tyred white-knuckle roller-coaster riding. We’re back on tarmac. What a ride!
Straight ahead is the Gullfoss waterfall. We pull into the car park for a rest, and stroll over see the waterfall. Very pretty. Now, where’s the related campsite? Half a kilometre later I’m unloading Tigger and setting up camp. I am knobbly-tyre knackered. There’s a pizza bar on site, so that’s supper sorted. By 9:30 I’m in my sleeping bag.
Day 3 on Iceland starts with a hunt for petrol. Garmin helpfully directs me to various nearby places but the first ones I try have been replaced by electric charge stations. All very laudable, but not much use for Tigger. Eventually we fill up and get started on the day’s route. Today we’re heading for the western fjords. From the tarmac section of the ‘35’ we turn onto route ‘52’. My paper map and Garmin can’t agree on whether this is going to be tarmac or not. The first few miles are narrow, lumpy, twisty blacktop. Nice. The next few miles are wide smooth curvy blacktop swooping up and down past lakes and rivers. There are no other vehicles on the road. Very nice. Then a few miles of gnarly loose gravel. Slower, more technical, but nice too. Finally there are a few kilometres of hard-pressed sand, almost as hard as tarmac, but soft enough to make a very smooth ride. Very nice indeed.
We come to a bridge over a rushing torrent. The bridge is closed, because the road on the far side has disappeared under a landslide. OK. I’ll grant you this ‘Impassable’ sign! Garmin finds me a detour around a big inlet and over a causeway. What a ride! If you come to Iceland you must give the ‘52’ a try!
From there we head north and west on smooth tarmac, over passes and down into valleys. We’re in whale-watching territory and I keep an eye out in every fjord, but don’t see any as we swoop by. Eventually we arrive in Holmavik where I stop at a supermarket for a coffee and to buy food for this evening. The campsite I’m heading to doesn’t have a café. What it does have is hot showers (heated by geothermal), a communal room with panoramic whale-watching views (heated by geothermal), a kitchen for cooking my own dinner, a laundry room, a hot tub (geo thermal + whale watching) and plenty of space for pitching Big Agnes – my tent. It is warm and comfortable in the common room. The owner, Gunnar has diversified from farming and is very proud of it.
Where next? Well Day 4 Is going to take us eastwards and northwards. I’m aiming to get as close to the Arctic Circle as I can. Technically there’s no part of Iceland’s mainland that is within the Arctic Circle these days. That’s because the Arctic Circle isn’t a line that’s fixed by geometry, it is defined by the earth’s relationship to the sun, a relationship which varies with time due to all kinds of celestial influences. These days the Arctic Circle is a few kilometres north of Iceland’s northernmost cape, at 66.56 degrees N, and it is moving slowly further northwards. Today’s route takes Tigger and I along the coast and over a few passes. We drop down into the town of Savdorkrokur for lunch. It is Sunday and there’s a girls’ football tournament going on. The town smells interesting. It has a big fish processing plant so the smell of fish hangs in the air, but there’s also Iceland’s ever-present background eggy smell of sulphur. Thankfully I don’t have a very sensitive nose! We press on.
More fjords and passes and waterfalls later we arrive in Husavik. It’s a cute little town. There’s a whale museum and a craft brewery. There’s also a Eurovision museum because this town was the setting for the film, the Story of Fire Saga. I’m booked into Husavik’s Little Green Hostel. The receptionist, Dora, greets me and shows me round. It is quiet, spotlessly clean and very comfortable. I find a restaurant and eat traditional fish mash for dinner. Perfect.
Day 5. More challenges await. This time it’s the weather. I check the "Vedur"app. A weather-front has moved in….Strong winds, heavy rain and cold temperatures assail me all day. The temperature drops to 4 degrees C as Tigger and I make a loop northwards to get as far north as we can. We get soaked. Garmin gets glitchy in the freezing rain and refuses to show me any graphics. We stop at a small café for a bite to eat and a hot coffee. I’m wearing six layers of clothing and I’m shivering. Rain drips off the end of my nose. Meanwhile the locals are coming and going in shorts and T-shirts. Hard as nails these Icelanders, they have to be!
We continue southwards round a coast road that would be fabulous if it wasn’t so wet and cold, with breakers rolling in from the Arctic Ocean thundering against the shore. The road is mostly tarmac but there are sandy-gravely sections to keep me on my toes (well, the balls of my feet to be exact). They leave me wondering why. When most of the route is tarmac why leave ten or twenty kilometres unpaved in random places? I’m not complaining, just curious. Maybe the gravely surface copes
better with the winter snows? Or maybe it’s just a work in progress with a few more kilometres getting paved every year, similar to what I experienced in Morocco.
We’re heading towards a campsite at Egilsstadir over on the east of the island. Ideally I’d like to have stayed an extra night in the lovely Little Green Hostel and avoid today’s soaking, but the hostel was fully booked so I had no choice but to move on. We arrive at the campsite mid-afternoon. Tent pitched, I cook myself dinner in the busy communal kitchen and then do my best to dry myself out before hunkering down in my sleeping bag.
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Day 6, and I don’t have a big ride planned for today. The morning starts dry as we pack up the tent and head out past the fjord at Egilsstadirfjorder. There’s a local myth about a monster in the fjord, Iceland’s equivalent of the Loch Ness monster. The story tells of a small worm that a girl threw into the fjord which grew and grew until it filled the entire fjord from end to end. Locals couldn’t control it so they called in some Finns. The Finns couldn’t kill it but they managed to nail it down to the bottom of the fjord. The legend tells that the Wyrm is still there struggling to get loose. Some people claim to have seen it. Some have even filmed it. Sound familiar? Tigger and I see no monsters as we approach the head of the fjord. We stop to take a closer look at a waterfall, the Hengifoss. This one isn’t wide but it is very tall and quite spectacular. I make the two-mile trek up the mountain to the topmost viewing point, sit on a bridge to paint a sketch of the cascades, and head back down. Then Tigger and I set off heading southwards.
Tonight I have a comfy Abnb booked in Breiddfjordur. Garmin takes us over a pass on route 95. At first it is a wide smooth tarmac main road, but then for no apparent reason the tarmac stops and we get 20 clicks of loose gravel. The road rises. The clouds drop. The temperature falls. It rains. Before long we’re struggling through freezing fog on a gnarly road beset with hairpins with negligible grip, no cliff-edge crash-barriers and just clouds to ride off into. Hey Iceland! You’ve saved the best for last, eh? This is tough. I’m soaked and I can’t see where I’m going. Mostly I’m just trusting Tigger to keep himself shiny-side up. He does, and eventually we emerge back onto Route 1. I can see the guest house all lit up like a shining beacon ahead. Phew! I have instructions to let myself in. The heating’s on. There’s unlimited free coffee. There’s a restaurant attached. All I need now is to get myself warm and dry!
And now comes my final full day in Iceland. I have a day off to prepare myself for the ferry. Tigger needs a bit of maintenance – chain (lubed, looks OK), tyres (will they last the distance?), oil (3,000 miles to the next oil change – I’ll need to think about where I can do that), dents in the sum-guard (only a flesh wound). I enjoy a hot shower. I buy food to take on the ferry with me. I charge up all my cameras, phone and laptop and upload some files to the cloud. I type this blog…. All that sort of thing.
The final morning dawns (although it is light all night here so there isn't a dawn as such...) and I get up early to tackle the final 80 kilometres up to the ferry port. It’s still raining and it’s still cold but it's an easy ride along the '1'. Arriving at Seydisfjorder Tigger and I wait in line with dozens of other bikes for the signal to board the ferry. I’m already soaked as I strap Tigger down in the car deck (into first gear, Velcro strap on the brake lever, you know the drill) but I know that I now have two days and nights on the ferry to get my head round what Tigger and I have been through over the past week. On the ferry I find that I’ve been upgraded from the cramped couchettes to a plush private cabin. You dancer! The weather’s not as benign as it was on the outward crossing so the seasickness tablets are at the ready again. Now, when does the buffet open?
What's next? Well when we get back to Denmark we have a one-night turnaround before boarding another ferry taking us across to Kristiansand in Norway. Then I can get on with the serious business of pointing Tigger’s front wheel north…..
Tigger miles in 2023 = 8,024
Tigger miles in 2024 = 6,259
Tigger miles in 2025 so far = 3,463 (=5,541 km)
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