Iceland 2000
Crossing the Kjölur Pass
Monday 17th & Tuesday 18th July, 2000:
The wind had picked up again when we left Brekkholt. But this time it was behind us and we flew along to Gullfoss. We had a brief look again before continuing on. two or three km down the road we met the sign we were looking for - "Malvík Endar" - the end of the tarmac (asphalt). From now on it was packed lava sand and rocks - for nearly 200km.
Our guide book had talked of the many river crossings on this trip, so we had come prepared with wading shoes to stop our feet freezing in the glacial outflow streams and rivers. We soon realised our book was out of date as we whizzed across the wooden bridge over the river which eventually fell over Gullfoss.
The road was quite good and fairly smooth. The wind was on our backs, but the rain continued to fall. Then we did come across a ford. We put on our wading shoes and carried the bikes across. It was very shallow and not too wide, but very cold. On with our cycling shoes and off again. Suddenly, I had no power - I had no chain! My chain had broken and unwrapped itself and now lay in a perfect straight line on the road behind me. I shouted to Peter to stop and held it up to him. "What have you found?", he asked. "It's mine!", I shouted. We crouched behind a large rock to shelter from the now horizontal rain (or was it hail?), as we mended the chain with our trusty chain link remover tool. (Don't ever leave this at home - you never know when you might need it!)
Just as we finished, a bus appeared, and was soon lurching slowly through the ford. Peter tested my stamina by saying, "Now's your chance...". But we had come on a cycling adventure and I politely declined the offer of sitting in a nice warm, dry bus to continue our journey...
We continued on and eventually the rain stopped. We had lunch outside a wooden mountain rescue hut, having lit our stove. As we sheltered from the wind in its lee, drinking hot asparagus soup, an Icelander arrived in his large 4x4 and asked us why we weren't sheltering inside. Apparently, these huts are for travellers across the interior and their use is free during the day as long as you keep them tidy. You only pay if you stay overnight. Of course, the door is always open.
As afternoon came the sky cleared a little and eventually it brightened up. The road surface became worse, however, with many more corrugations. These are the bane of cyclists. They're caused by motor traffic - a car hits a stone and bounces down to cause a small hole. The next car hits the stone, falls into the hole bounces out and makes another hole. And so on until the whole road is one continuous sets of ruts at right angles to the direction of travel as if a caterpillar tracked vehicle had just passed by. Some friends told me I should have had suspension forks - I wished at this point I'd had suspension on my saddle, as it continuously thumped up and down against my posterior!
We finally reached the hot springs at Hveravellir - half way along the Kjölur pass - at about 5:30pm. We pitched camp and cooked. Then we went for a walk around the thermal springs area. The wind was picking up again and it was bitterly cold. But one girl was drying her hair and had obviously just been for a swim in the hot pool - a pool fed constantly by hot water with a cold water pipe from a nearby stream to hand. The idea was that you pulled this pipe over to cool down the pool just enough to be bearable before getting in and pushing it away until you could stand the heat no more and pulled it back again. Due to the wind we decided to give it a miss today, however inviting it looked. We walked on a little further to a very loud hissing steam volcano. It was only a couple of feet high but steam was rushing out of it at great speed.
That night the wind was so strong it bent the pole of our Quasar tent. Now Quasar tents are meant to be very strong - and this one was. But the wind was stronger still...
The following morning, after chatting to a Czech couple cycling south into the wind, we set off around 10am, only to stop very abruptly as my left front pannier carrier bounced into my front wheel with a loud clattering sound. Luckily the wheel survived unscathed, but the carrier was a write-off. Peter kindly offered to carry a little of my stuff and I packed the front pannier onto the top of my rear rack. The bent front carrier caused quite a few people to point and ask later "What happened there?"
Our guide book (which we knew now was out of date) had said that the northern half of the road was worse than the southern half. But in the intervening time a geothermal power station had been built and the road improved somewhat. We found it to be in better condition than the southern half, with the corrugations soon petering out. We fair flew along with a strong tailwind - to be greeted by sunshine at last. Lunch was taken in a small café which normally served as a shelter for the farmers in the spring and autumn. Hot waffles and coffee were greatly welcomed. Here we met a Dutch cyclist who was cycling into the wind. We felt sorry for him but were pleased we were going the other way. And it was here we heard of a Frenchman who was walking towing a trailor behind him. Talk about masochism! At a view point where we were taking photographs, a tour bus came along and emptied its load of passengers. One guy was an Australian who told us he normally cycled to places but had thought Iceland too strenuous. Now he was envious of us. I think the others just thought we were crazy!
That afternoon was one of those wonderful Icelandic days - very sunny and very windy. It would have been a nightmare had the wind not been behind us all the way - downhill! We soon reached the ring road, Road Number One and turned right towards Varmahlið. As we approached down the long sweeping hill we clocked 82km/h - our top speed of the holiday - needless to say the ring road here is asphalted. Fourteen years ago, the bus I was on had stopped in Varmahlið at a small café. I'd noticed a small plane parked outside. A man got up from his table and walked out. Then the plane started up its engine, taxied on to the main road and sped off and up into the air! Now Varmahlið was a bustling service station, with a hotel and supermarket. We waited here for the evening bus to Akureyri, Iceland's second largest city with 10,000 inhabitants. We arrived there after 11pm and stopped in the Edda hotel on the hill - luxury.
