A Ride Through Middle Earth
The hills roll like the mist on this Atlantic isle
In the absence of trees, there is no protection from the stiff crosswind blowing off the mountains. There’s a constant drizzle and my Oakleys are fogged up. It’s September i n Iceland and I now understand why I had been encouraged to visit earlier in the summer. Approaching yet another in a series of lengthy climbs, I am also cursing the Icelandic guy who told me the road to Thingvellir National Park is “paved and flat with one or two hills.” Mind you, I had arrived in Reykjavik just the day before and hoped ambition would trump jet lag. Oh, how I was wrong.
It’s only 52 km from my hotel to Thingvellir, a UN World Heritage site, and my cyclocross bike is certainly up to the task, even if I am knackered. I stop occasionally to take pictures. Despite the challenging conditions, I am most definitely having the time of my life. The scenery is breathtaking, rather like the Middle Earth Tolkien imagined and unlike anywhere else I have visited. And that is exactly the point of my visit.
The moisture and low hanging clouds accentuate the colours of the moss-covered volcanic rock that decorate both sides of the road. Steam rises from hot springs in the distance and, i n some places, the smell of volcanic sulphur can be detected. Waterfalls cascade from mountaintop glaciers.
Traffic is almost non-existent outside Reykjavik, so there is a wonderful sense of freedom. Indeed, the Icelandic population numbers a mere 327,589 with the majority living in or near the capital. The remainder are scattered in villages and on farms around the island.
After I crested the last in a succession of hills, Thingvallavatn, or Lake Thingvellir, comes into view. It’s the largest natural lake in the land. The park is just another 10 km farther – mainly downhill, thankfully.
The North American and Eurasian tectonic plates meet around Thingvellir forming rift valleys to the west and to the east. Apparently there is no place on earth where continental drift is so visible. It’s also the site of Europe’s oldest parliament, which dates back to AD 930.
above Passing Vatnajökull Glacier during the 2014 Wow Cyclothon, a non-stop relay around Iceland, held annually at the start of summer
left The rugged and hilly landscape along Krýsuvík Road on the final leg of the Wowcyclothon
opposite Riding past Mount Herdubreid
Near-empty tour buses drive up to the visitor centre, an indication that tourist season is winding down. After I discover there’s one bound for Reykjavik later that evening, I decide to book a ticket ($25 approximately) for myself – and my bike – and then explore the region for a couple of hours on two wheels.
In the distance, I spot steam rising from rock and head out in that direction. Carrying my bike up some steps, I approach Öxarárfoss Waterfall, which drops into the Öxará River and eventually flows into Thingvallavatn. A pair of American tourists ask me to take their picture and they respond in kind. An asphalt path leads visitors along a rocky canyon and on toward the Lögberg or Law Rock. It was here that the first settlers gathered to hear from their parliamentarians.
When I ride in the other direction, the road climbs once again but I am eventually rewarded with a spectacular view of Thingvallavatn. Most astonishing is a patch of birch trees near the lake. You don’t see many trees in Iceland due to deforestation over the centuries.
In the gift shop, I buy a novel written by Icelandic crime writer Arnaldur Indridason. There’s something special about reading about neighbourhoods I will recognize from the trip even if his writing is extremely dark. After a tuna sandwich and several cups of tea, I look out the window to see my bus.
The ride back is especially satisfying because I can now see the dramatic elevation change along the route and am now rather pleased that I maintained a 27 km/h average on the way from the capital. The fact that the rain is now absolutely pouring down adds to my contentment.
Cycling is encouraged in Iceland, but once I had reached the Reykjavik outskirts I didn’t see any cyclists. Gasoline is expensive – 223 kronur (about $2.15) a litre so many people ride year-round. But there is a growing dispute between drivers and cyclists.
“People are saying, ‘When we have no money to fix the roads why are we spending money on bicycle paths?’” a policeman tells me. “But something has to be done in Reykjavik because there are too many cars. I am a cyclist; I ride 5,000 km a year to and from work.”
Just a couple of minutes from the Radisson Blu Saga Hotel, where I am staying for 10 days, there is a path that follows the seashore for a good distance before going inland and climbing alongside the Ellidaár River. Surprisingly, there are separate paths for pedestrians and runners. Over the course of my stay, I would ride this path three times. There was always a wind coming off the North Atlantic. One day it nearly blew me off my bike.
As I climbed one steep section, I spotted a waterfall. I might have lingered to enjoy the view but I was afraid of losing momentum.
Eventually the path enters a residential area where there are modern homes, a few covered with turf, an architectural tradition dating back to the first settlements in the ninth century. This path ends at Lake Ellidavatn. With a slight addition to the out-and-back route, I am on my bike for an hour and 45 minutes. Again, the return leg is mainly downhill and fast.
After a few days of exploration, I made Kria Cycles (Grandagardur 7) my local bike shop. The friendly owners are David Robertson and Emil Thor Gudmundsson. They started a club called Tindur three years ago. Group rides of two to three hours are held four times a week: Sunday mornings, Monday and Wednesday nights with a Friday morning coffee ride of about 30 km also on the calendar.
“We have around 160 members now, and we’re the second biggest cycling club in Iceland,” says Robertson. “I think that with the exception of the men’s TT, we have all the national champions in our club.”
I enjoyed an espresso and chat at Kria’s coffee bar while Einar, one of the mechanics, boxed my bike in 15 minutes flat for my return trip to Toronto. Clearly, my cycling excursion was just a test for a triumphant return at a future date. Iceland is that enthralling.