It is ten thirty at night at the end of a stormy, rainy, cold day somewhere in the remote wilderness of Iceland, after a huge day of riding some of the best singletrack Iceland has to offer. We are still quite a distance from our refuge for the night, with the short Icelandic night finally drawing in. Suddenly our Land Rover support vehicle’s axle breaks, and we stop just in time before the left rear wheel completely falls off.
This is one of the many times on our Iceland journey that we are extremely thankful that there is a cell phone signal almost everywhere on this 103,000 square kilometre island, as we call the refuge keeper to come to our rescue. Magne, our support driver, has to brave this hostile environment solo all night and wait for spare parts to come the following morning, so that he can repair the Land Rover. As they say; an adventure isn’t an adventure until things start to go wrong.
The following day downhill legend Steve Peat and I continued our North to South traverse of Iceland on mountain bikes, knowing that Magne will catch up with us at some point that night at the camp site.
Ambitions fulfilled
I’ve wanted to do a mountain bike trip to Iceland for nearly 20 years. But unlike the bike-packers or touring-bikers who frequently ride this volcanic island on the main roads and dirt roads, I’ve wanted to find the best single-track, while crossing through the barren, isolated and little-visited interior.
With us for the adventure is our local contact Runar Omarsson, an Icelandic mountain biker and entrepreneur I met a few years ago and who loved the idea of this adventure and riding with a couple of his two-wheeled heroes. A plan is hatched, including a route and a support vehicle towing an off-road trailer with gargantuan 36in tyres to conquer the deep rivers, snowfields and sandy sections along the way. Magne from Icebike Adventures is in charge of logistics and making sure we can ride light with day-packs only. This way we don’t have to worry about food, tents, sleeping bags or our film-maker’s extra equipment.
But first we have to get to the start point, which means meeting up with the rest of our international team at Reykjavik, before continuing on with a domestic flight to the northern city Akureyri, to meet our local crew. A short drive takes us east to the iconic latitude of 66 degrees north, within spitting distance of the Arctic Circle, and the real start of our Icelandic adventure.
Appropriately the first stage of our crossing starts near the coastline with a stunning ride to Dettifoss waterfalls. We clock about 50 km this first day and due to a late start we don’t finish until nearly midnight – all without lights, simply powered by the midnight sun. In Iceland at this time of year and at this latitude it hardly gets dark at all.
During the ride I have quite a surreal moment when we have the midnight sun to the west, the arctic circle to the immediate north, a blue moon in the east and to our south the fabled territory of trolls and elves…
The Jökulsarglufur trail that follows the river has a delightful natural flow – something that we hope to experience much more of in the coming days and miles. Along the trail there are a few smaller river crossings to tackle, where it’s easiest to take off our shoes and keep them dry for the time being.
The last few miles during the late night twilight hours turn out to be very rocky and technical, made even more challenging by the dimming light. At this point our group splits up since everyone is keen to make it back to camp with darkness setting in – not to mention hunger and tiredness. Round the camp fire we all agree that the day’s highlight was without a doubt the mesmerizing spectacle of unfathomable amounts of water gushing over Dettifoss waterfall.
Partner in grime
It’s fantastic to have Steve Peat along – my old friend and adventure riding partner from previous trips to Borneo, Ireland, and Scotland to mention a few. Due to an ACL injury earlier this year, he missed the 2015 downhill racing season and has recovered just enough from his surgery to join me on this epic. It is always a good laugh when you have Steve Peat along.
Our entrance to the Highlands is marked with powerful head winds, off-road tracks and river crossings. To be precise, we’re now riding into the Askja area, where word has it that snow conditions are still very bad in the mountains. In fact, it has been Iceland’s coldest summer for the past 50 years.
Despite its name, Iceland is not normally ice it is green – normally it is ‘ungreen’ Greenland that is the icy one, for what it’s worth. But this year Iceland is actually living up to its name…
Of course we expected some snow but not as much as we are told will be ahead of us by the ranger in Drekagil. Apparently, so far this season nobody has crossed the only pass between the north and south, not even hikers, and we would face about a 60km stretch of snow, pushing and carrying our bikes. Not an ideal way to make progress for anybody, especially a guy who has just had ACL surgery.
The decision is hard, but after hiking up to the snowline we can see for ourselves that it just isn’t possible. The only option left is to radio our support vehicle, asking him to fetch us. Magne is already driving the long 250 km detour to get to the other side, since the only direct route is impassable by jeep.
As it turns out, calling for backup is a wise decision because the following day the weather turns really nasty. We’re extremely disappointed, of course, not to be able to ride the whole way, so we do the next best thing and drown our sorrows with a bottle of one of Scotland’s finest exports… whisky. We couldn’t have chosen a better place to wait for back up though – not many campsites have a hot lava-heated river nearby where you can float and soak tired muscles.
It’s surreal to watch the sulphur fumes still rising from the lava fields after the most recent volcanic eruption last year. The black volcanic magna rock is sharp and fragile and the water that flows underneath is as hot as a bath. Unexpected pockets open up and close as nature dictates, so it’s a stroke of luck to find such a spot to sit and soak in the steaming hot water in this often hard-to-believe landscape.
We spend the better part of the next day crammed into the Land Rover before we continue our ride on the other side of the snow pass. The weather is still miserable and we have a long way to pedal along the boring Sprengisameur Road before reaching the more scenic southern part or our route. Despite our super functional clothes we can’t avoid getting wet and cold; sometimes submerging waist deep in water crossings, others fighting rain and biting headwinds. But we keep pushing forward, trying to stay on schedule for our six-day traverse, focusing on our truly epic end destination – the famous Skogarfoss waterfall, Iceland’s tallest at 60 meters, close to the southern coastline.
Most mountain bikers in Iceland do day trips – to do a multi-day trip you have to be prepared and it would be extremely tough and rough to do so without some sort of support. It is certainly a heart-warming sight at the end of days like these to see our support vehicle with a dry set of riding gear waiting for us.
Lord of the chainrings
The following morning the sun comes back out and the landscape looks more amazing by the minute. Everywhere around us there are glaciers, colourful ridges, giant river deltas and lava fields – through the midst of which twists the stunning natural singletrack we’re riding. The trails look like they have been carved out by Thor himself, just for mountain bikers, with traction on the volcanic soil out of this world.
It’s a thrill riding with Runar and following Peaty’s lines downhill, as long as I can keep up with him. I’ve been fortunate enough to ride with many of the world’s best bike riders, and it is always cool to see their distinctive creative lines and styles. We all chose all-mountain bikes for this trip, with Peaty bringing his Santa Cruz 5010 model with 125mm travel, while Runar and myself are both riding GT Carbon Sensor bikes with 130mm suspension travel at the front and 160mm at the rear.
Along the Landmannalaugar trail we start to see more backpackers and even the odd bike rider, all travelling through this otherworldly land, which feels like it’s straight out of Game of Thrones or Lord of the Rings.
That night we set up our tents at a beautiful campsite, thankful that the days are so long during Iceland’s short summer months. We have needed all the time and light we could get to cover the distances and fit in the extra time for filming and photos – each location we discover more stunning than the last.
Before falling asleep we have to give our bikes some attention, the many water-crossings and the volcanic sand are starting to take their toll on our equipment. I’m still not sure how good sulphurous stream water is for bearings and suspension bushings…
The fifth day continues as the previous day ended – incredible scenery and views as far as the eye can see, including glances of Europe’s biggest glacier, Vatnajökull.
It really is a landscape that needs to be seen to believed – the black sand and soil a vivid contrast to the lush green ridges and rugged mountains, reminding me of the Napali Coast on Hawaii but with glaciers and snowfields too! What with the lava fields and desert, it’s no surprise that this Laugavegur Trail has just been named an IMBA Epic Trail.
At the end of a day of epic riding in an epic setting, we arrive at another picture perfect campsite at Thorsmörk, where, just as you’ll find in every household in Iceland, hot water and heating comes straight from the ground. The only downside to this free heat source is that it always smells like rotten eggs.
The last day turns out to be the longest but also the most amazing. Again we have to cross several miles of snow fields, but first we climb onto gorgeous ridges above canyons, some of them scarily narrow with deadly consequences to punish the slightest mistake. This demands some seriously focussed riding and nerves of steel – not to mention faultless balance. This is my kind of riding!
In fact, this final day delivers pretty much every challenge Iceland has to offer for mountain bike adventurers, with climbing, pushing and hiking, including about 6 km of snowfields to negotiate. At one point I feel like I am on an Arctic expedition – which I guess is not too far from the truth.
Runar’s local knowledge really comes into its own on this last day, and he even guides us along some of his secret trails, after making us swear secrecy first. I have never seen as many big and powerful waterfalls than on the final descent on the Fimmvörduhals route.
This seemingly endless trail is sometimes rough and rocky, and at other times smooth and fast. By the time we get to Skogarfoss waterfall, it is almost dark – which in Iceland at this time of year means the middle of the night. Too tired and hungry to take our helmets and backpacks off we tuck into the food Manse has laid out on the hood of his Land Rover, the feeling of satisfaction growing inside me as the hot food and coffee warms me – mission accomplished, that’s another bucket list trip checked off my list.
Words: Hans Rey
Photos: Scott Markewitz
