Our next destination on the south coast was Skaftafell, a rare lush & green heathland oasis in contrast to the craggy mountains and sparse rocky plains that surround it. The weather was stunning, a perfect day that lead the last rays of the sun off the jagged snow-capped peaks and onto a red-hued moon.
Skaftafell is famous for it´s access to the glacial tongues that stem off the Vatnajokull glacier (the largest in Europe) covering and carving out valleys as they snake down to sea-level. Prior to moving on we took a guided trot over an ice-cold tongue equipped with ice-picks and boot-spikes and looking quite the part. The surrounding mountains looked quite grandiose, and we were told were used to film the opening sequences to the film Batman Begins.
We continued east with only a vague idea of that night´s destination. This is an area of vast glacial outwash plains of black sand and rock, barren and prone to dust-storms.
After a long slog we finally arrived at a glacial lake, Jokulsalon, sore, cold and exhausted, but were rewarded with a striking midnight sunset over the iceberg-strewn lagoon. There was nobody at the lake, just us and a few seals splashing about. Our joy was short-lived however, as we realised the reality of our upcoming rocky sleeping conditions. A long search finally yielded a find of a small patch of soft moss by the edge of the lake that would make a suitable camp-spot, and offered beautiful views to boot. We were rudely awaken early in the morning though, as boat loads of tourists (in amphibian car-boats) drove right by our tent on the way to the lake, smug and amused by our dishevelled lodgings and appearance.
Next came our 80km push to Höfn (our biggest effort to date) as we left the sandy plains of the south coast behind us. This cycle had gotten us past the Vatnajokull glacier that had been hugging the mountain-range to our left since Skaftafell. Our eventual arrival evening arrival in Hofn meant that we had to pedal our bedraggled bodies straight over to the nearest restaurant, a classy joint we could ill-afford, bringing our cycling smells and shabby exteriors in for the meal.
We cleaned up our act the next day though, enjoying a nice soak for our aching muscles at the hot-tubs at the local public swimming pool, often the social hub of Icelandic towns. Thermal bliss!
Skaftafell is famous for it´s access to the glacial tongues that stem off the Vatnajokull glacier (the largest in Europe) covering and carving out valleys as they snake down to sea-level. Prior to moving on we took a guided trot over an ice-cold tongue equipped with ice-picks and boot-spikes and looking quite the part. The surrounding mountains looked quite grandiose, and we were told were used to film the opening sequences to the film Batman Begins.
We continued east with only a vague idea of that night´s destination. This is an area of vast glacial outwash plains of black sand and rock, barren and prone to dust-storms.
After a long slog we finally arrived at a glacial lake, Jokulsalon, sore, cold and exhausted, but were rewarded with a striking midnight sunset over the iceberg-strewn lagoon. There was nobody at the lake, just us and a few seals splashing about. Our joy was short-lived however, as we realised the reality of our upcoming rocky sleeping conditions. A long search finally yielded a find of a small patch of soft moss by the edge of the lake that would make a suitable camp-spot, and offered beautiful views to boot. We were rudely awaken early in the morning though, as boat loads of tourists (in amphibian car-boats) drove right by our tent on the way to the lake, smug and amused by our dishevelled lodgings and appearance.
Next came our 80km push to Höfn (our biggest effort to date) as we left the sandy plains of the south coast behind us. This cycle had gotten us past the Vatnajokull glacier that had been hugging the mountain-range to our left since Skaftafell. Our eventual arrival evening arrival in Hofn meant that we had to pedal our bedraggled bodies straight over to the nearest restaurant, a classy joint we could ill-afford, bringing our cycling smells and shabby exteriors in for the meal.
We cleaned up our act the next day though, enjoying a nice soak for our aching muscles at the hot-tubs at the local public swimming pool, often the social hub of Icelandic towns. Thermal bliss!
Snail enjoying a waterfall
The deliciously icy Vatnajokull glacier
That glacier never saw us comin
Quick rest break in the mountains
Rock on Rock!
Sunset at the glacial lake
Oh my goodness! How excited I was to find these updates this evening! I can't believe how far you guys have come-- very impressive! Reading about all of these beautiful places makes me miss the Icelandic countryside like mad. As I was riding my bike to the dentist the other day, I was thinking about you guys and sending you strong peddling vibes. Hopefully they helped. Know that you all cross my mind at regular intervals throughout the day. I can't wait for your next update! Keep up the good work. I so wish that I could be in our cute little Gamli to welcome you guys upon your victorious return.
ReplyDelete