Tuesday: Arctic Monkfish

We woke up early in Landmanaulaugur but even so we were some of the last to leave the hut. After wandering around and taking a few photos of the river, we prepared the bikes and had some breakfast before setting off on a real all mountain adventure. The weather was still a little damp and breezy but was a big improvement on the previous days typhoon which had battered us all to a pulp. Landmanaulaugur was a great stop on our trip and if you're lucky to ever go there you'll find very little but being one of Iceland's areas of natural outstanding beauty, it's definitely worth the trip if you're ever in this area, even if just for the 'natural hot tub'!

As you can see in this shot, compared with the final shot from Monday, the area around the spring couldn't have been more different. In stark contrast to the scenery behind me when I took this photo (a vivd moonscape) the spring area was covered in foliage. In more interesting news we sat in the river and drunk Vodka straight from the bottle in the pouring rain the night before and couldn't have been happier...or for that matter, warmer!

Another shot of the spring.

Less than an hour into the ride and the rain started to come down, albeit with the odd bit of sun thrown in for good measure. Whilst the weather was at its worst Leslie had a mechanical and we hung around offering piss poor advice and making wise cracks whilst Leslie, Niels and Aaron fixed the problem and we were off again in no time. We again appeared to be riding off into the middle of nowhere, following valleys, past mountains and lakes and making great progress in the improved conditions.

Aaron and Leslie passing one of the many Icelandic lakes we encountered on the trip.

The scenery was stunning.

It was colder and wetter than it looked, I can promise you that much. Just when you thought you couldn't be colder or wetter you'd have to do another river crossing!

Some of the rivers weren't to be taken lightly.

Today was definitely a day of river crossings with getting close to double figures by the end of the day. The river crossings were usually either a good test of skill and balance or a case of stripping down and rolling up your trousers. Some of the scenery today was even more incredible than what we'd already seen and was looking more and more like the backdrop to 'Lord of the Rings'. Whilst we waited for people to cross the rivers we'd play around on the natural obstacles nearby. I found a large mound of volcanic ash to try and ride up and over, easier said than done when the ash would eat six inches of your front wheel making it like riding through deep snow. Bouyed by success at crossing the rivers throughout the day and then tackling the volcanic mound of ash I then made a rather rash and some would say bold statement about how I was going to cross the rather tame stream which joined the river. Crossing the eight foot wide stream should have been easy alongside my previous victories so how I managed to make a complete hash of it and soak myself up to the knees three times in the space of five seconds is anyones guess but it caused much hilarity and mickey taking from the group!

There had been some big climbs throughout the day and, although knackering, it was good to see some technical challenges ocassionaly to keep you on your toes, plus with big climbs comes big descents and the descent down towards Holskajol was eye wateringly fast. It took us around fifteen minutes to descend to the very bottom where we gathered with huge grins plastered all over our mud and tear streaked faces only to be told by Niels that the following day we would be climbing back up the descent and it would take us well over an hour and a half to reach the top. After all of the climbing today, the river crossings and the previous days weather we were ready for the best and worst that Iceland had to offer, bring it on! I noticed my brakes had blued significantly and steam poured off them when I emptied my water bottle over the front disc. Fortunately, no one repeated Aaron's trick in Spain of standing against the baking hot rotors and welding themselves to them as he had done in the Sierra Nevada. The scar on his leg a permanent reminder of his trip to Southern Spain and the incredible descents we rode on the trip.

Mind you that didn't stop us. Here Aaron is giving it some stick, go on lad!

Mark, waiting for others to cross the river. The ridges on the hill in the background reminded me of huge fish gills!

This was the climb once you had crossed the river. A nice 20 minute grind, quite literally too as the grit and volcanic ash got everywhere. By the end of the holiday my bike sounded like a knackered gate.

Mark descending.

Aaron making good on the downhill sections.

James about to take off!

The ten mile run in to Holskajol was relatively flat and straightforward, only having to pull over occasionally to let the odd tourist bus through. The buses were a sight themselves. Huge off road monsters with tractor tyres on their wheels to cope with the constantly undulating landscape, not to mention the frequent river crossings, some up to four feet deep where the cars were crossing. We usually checked the river beforehand with a large stick to find the easier routes which were not always the most direct. The terrain now was like the shape of a head of broccoli when you headed off the main road (another jeep track) to Holskajol. A constantly changing landscape covered in arctic moss which we attempted to ride through following the various sheep trails as they wound in and around the peaks and troughs, bumps and dips.

You are here, some places you cannot pronounce are over there. Weirdly a lot of the roads you'd think of as little more than farm tracks were actually the main roads, hence the rather official looking sign posts.

Finally, Holaskjol!

Upon arrival at Holskajol we were welcomed by Helga and two very tame Arctic Foxes which lived nearby. We watched the foxes for a while and sorted out our, by now, battered bikes before heading off into the mossy hills behind the hut to stretch our legs before dinner. There wasn't much to write home about, aside from a thirty foot waterfall which was not that impressive compared with what we'd already seen and a mountain that looked like a pair of boobs, which was quickly christened by Mark as 'Side Boob Mountain'.

After dinner I went outside to get some decent pictures of the foxes and saw the ranger talking to one of the bus drivers (we had French tourists sharing part of the hut with us). They began setting up a tripod. I had no idea what they were talking about but the tripod was clearly going to be for some kind of target. Next the bus driver went over to his bus and brought out a four foot long double headed throwing axe and he then preceded to show the ranger how to throw the axe correctly. There followed a quick bout of axe throwing as the others came out of the hut to watch. We took it in turns to try and hit the target, some with more success that others. I managed to bounce the axe off the floor and into the target before repeating the process two shots later, whereas Aaron's approach was to destroy the legs first, before the target. I suppose Aaron's approach was equally effective, rendering the target legless at which point you could then hit the target at your leisure.

We had company in the hut this evening in the form of a bus full of french tourists, an axe throwing bus driver, a guide who thought he was Crocodile Dundee, a ranger and two Arctic Fox's, this is one of them, let's call him Brian.

The waterfall situated behind our hut. It was about thirty feet high so compared with what we'd already seen, it was little more than a trickle.

Even the rocks in Iceland are unusual!

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