Thursday: A day of agonising pain

Thursday was another early start with the promise of another long day in the saddle and another all mountain adventure. We said our goodbyes at Holaskjol and were heading towards a very remote mountain hut by a lake, which would be our hostelry for the evening. Along the way we would be climbing one of the higher peaks in the area, crossing one of Iceland's many 'deserts' and also passing a glacier along the way, the name of which escapes me. This tends to happen when you leave it two years in writing up your holiday!

We travelled back down the road from Holskajol in the damp, misty conditions heading for the foot of the huge climb we had climbed the previous day. Fortunately we were not to be treated to another lung busting climb up it, we would be taking a left and heading up the valley which in the early morning mist looked like you were heading into the land that time forgot. Following Niels up the valley half expecting a Tyrannosaurus Rex to loom up out of the mist it wasn't long before we found our first obstacle for the day, a knee deep river which would take thirty seconds or so to navigate across. Can I just say that there is nothing quite like finding yourself knee deep in a river on a cold, damp morning in Iceland to make your senses come alive! We hung around and took one or two photos as we crossed, we were in no particular rush today as we knew we had a long day ahead of us and hopefully the mist might clear if we were lucky, giving us the opportunity to see some of the natural treasures of Iceland that were on the map today.

Another river crossing. This one was at around 9am and was a particularly beautiful if not rude awakening.

Aaron heading off to who knows where. This was on top of a climb to a viewpoint which promised us stunning views of the surrounding area. Obviously that wouldn't be happening today!

Out on the trails in Iceland had been very different from Spain and not just because of the different climate and terrain. In Spain you might not meet many people out on the trails, but there were some people around, generally going about their daily business, working the land or taking a siesta and using a wheelbarrow as a barbeque, as you do. We occasionally met people on the trails in Iceland, but the real difference was that in the evening, even if you were staying in a place with other parties, people tended to do their own thing and get an early night in preparation for the following days hike, bike, etc. In Spain we'd spend the evening in a local bar or restaurant. Obviously, spending the evening socialising rather than drying out your clothes, cleaning your bike and then sitting around with a beer watching your friends taking medication for various bumps and strains they'd pick up along the way.

On the trails today we did bump into some people, about fifty school kids who were out on a mountain biking trip to the middle of the Fjallabak, or the back end of nowhere as I recall it. I cannot even begin to describe to you how ridiculously remote and cut off you felt riding in Iceland all of the time. Adventuring off on your own is something that you don't take lightly in Iceland. If you did get lost without a map then the chances of you stumbling across a mountain hut I would say are slim, the chances of you meeting someone are just as remote and the place is so vast you could spend a day getting into the next valley, only to find that it looks even more remote and cut off than where you were the same time yesterday. The plan for the kids looked to be to drive to an interesting part of the trail, stop the bus, spend half an hour getting out and getting the bikes off the bus, ride the bikes for an hour and then spend another half hour or so packing up the bikes and the kids before driving down the road a few miles. It looked like they were enjoying it but it looked like an organisational nightmare!

We had been riding for an hour or so and arrived at a remote hut which Niels hoped would be open, and by a stroke of luck it was so we stopped to check the map and have a breather. The hut was about the size of a very small cottage and was one large room, built based on a strong timber frame with an upstairs mezzannine level at one end for sleeping. On the ground floor was a kitchen and picnic table and we gathered round to see our route as Niels described the itinerary for the day. These huts were available for anyone to use (although they need to be booked) and if you stumbled in with nothing but some food, dry clothes and a sleeping bag you'd be very comfortable indeed. This particular hut was usually locked and, going off the basic essentials (firelighters, cooking oil, cleaning liquids, etc) that were stacked around the kitchen area the huts clearly worked on a trust basis, with people who weren't on long expeditions leaving useful items for other visitors to use. The key for the hut was available from the ranger service, you just had to let them know in advance that you wanted to use the hut and they supplied you with the key. Brilliant. I imagine it's similar to how the bothy system works in Scotland. Niels told us how he brought a girl to the hut once for a date, but then the car broke down (a likely story!) and the girl's father was clearly not very happy when they got home and he found out!

Checking the map in the 'love nest'.

We set off and soon passed the school kids on the trails again as they crossed a river via a footbridge, their bus struggling up an incline not far behind, even with it's huge off road tyres. This section of the ride also came with the by now obligatory river crossings and by the end of the day we had racked up another half dozen. At another crossing point we were followed by what looked like a Nissan or Isuzu 4X4 and during a regroup we hung around to watch the driver attempt to cross the last river which was particularly wide and deep as it had two feeds, one from the glacier and another from a river, giving a strange 'clear on one side, murky on the other' affect to the water due to the cold glacial and warm river water mixing. Despite someone going ahead with a stick to test the depth and finding it coming up to his waist the driver decided to plow on regardless and only just made it out of the other side, albeit having drifted down the river about thirty yards. We'd crossed a lot of rivers that day. I wouldn't have liked to have been not sure on where to go next as the road back would have meant trying to cross some really sketchy crossing points. They didn't look that certain on where they were or where they were supposed to be. Their progress was slower than us and we quickly left them behind.

We were soon climbing high into the mist and Niels informed us that we were climbing up the side of a pinnacle which gave incredible views of the plains below, not to mention the huge drops not far from the edge of the trail. Shame about the weather then but at least you couldn't see the terrifying drops! It was hard going and the trail was steep, we were rapidly becoming boil in a bag mountain bikers in our wet weather gear as it we crawled up the side of what felt like the North Face of the Eiger. Having reached the summit there was little point hanging around in the thick of the freezing mist and we started our descent down the other side on the fast double track, the mist clearing on the descent to give us a view of the journey ahead across the Icelandic 'desert' as Niels put it.

Descent down towards more river crossings and the desert.

Another mighty river crossing. Note the 4x4 about to get through the river by the skin of it's teeth. This was no mighty Icelandic 4X4, more like the sort of thing that could get you to the shops and back in the UK.

The start of the Icelandic desert.

Starting across the 'desert' progress was quick, the damp volcanic ash sticking together well and giving good traction. We crossed one or two shallow streams which criss crossed the plain before the terrain dried up completely leaving us with bone dry volcanic ash which was like riding on ice and the slightest deviation from the tyre ruts we were following soon had you six inches deep in the ash which meant goodbye forward momentum and hello volcanic ash sandpit. I spent the next half an hour routinely body slamming into the sandpit as I struggled to maintain forward momentum. The others were struggling too, although I seemed to be making a right hash of it. Everyone had been struggling with their knees on this trip, no doubt due to the pressure they were put under with riding into the strong head winds we'd encountered. Once almost everyone had caught and past me due to me playing in the ash, I seemed to finally find a way to make some half decent progress and before long was quickly spinning away, catching them up and taking a few photos as I rode along. We could see the mist earily blowing along the flats, showing occasional glimpses of the collosal glacier beyond.

Aaron and Leslie making steady progress across the desert. The white mass in the background on the right hand side is the glacier.

Not long after the glacier disappeared under a rolling carpet of mist. Stunning but a bit creepy!

Crossing the desert took the best part of a couple of hours, it was vast. Following this there was a slight rocky climb up onto a remote, desolate plateau which periodically had what looked like stainless steel triangular containers, big enough to sit in, bolted to the ground. They looked like huge metal sun loungers and we climbed into them and took photos and generally messed around with them until someone pointed out that there was a radiation warning sign indicating the these were some sort of target or reflector for satellites and then suddenly no one wanted to go anywhere near them! We pushed on to another climb up another massive hill which gave us a great view back across the desert to the glacier and at the top we stopped to regroup and were then passed by the 4X4 from the river crossing earlier and a couple of other 4X4's all flashing their lights. blasting their horns and shouting encouragement at those of us still climbing as they passed.

Having regrouped we pushed on to our final destination for the day which was a remote hut (another) in a valley next to a lake which was very popular with hikers. This was a good three hours away and since crossing the desert my knees were really starting to show signs of fatigue, the pain in my right knee was excruciating. It felt like someone was sticking a knife into it, I could barely walk and although riding was easier, it came with a grimace. Fortunately the Icelandic wind once again swung round to blow in my face, making progress leisurely at best, although over the course of the next hour that slowed to an embarassing crawl. We were about a mile away from a hut we were stopping at for a brew. It was probably the slowest mile I've ever ridden on a bike, and definitely the most pain I have ever been in, it was indescribably by this point and I could just about ride and bear it but I was almost delirious with pain but I couldn't bring myself to tell the others, hoping to 'ride it off'! I got off the bike and found that I couldn't walk on my leg and resorted to doing a pathetic limp/hop round the place which then pretty much blew my cover.

We set off again under much encouragement from the others although by this point I was in so much pain I couldn't even speak. I bumbled through the next hour and a half using the "just make it to that rock, right now make it to that rock" kidology to get me through it and finally we descended down the jeep track and into the valley bottom where four or so huts and a couple of shower blocks greeted us, along with the school children from earlier who were stopping for a break. It was somewhere between 4 and 5 in the afternoon, so we were glad to be calling it a day and we started the daily round of bike fettling, body strapping and deskanking that we had become used to given the weather and the terrain. I'm not sure when the school kids left on the next stage of their own educational Iron Man but I didn't envy them. Although they were obviously enjoying themselves they looked knackered, they also looked like they had a good few hours to go given how infrequent the huts were and how far we were from Reykjavik (maybe 4-5 hours by bus). At least they had the bus for support.

Even though there were several huts and this place came recommended, it was hard to see the attraction. I don't think I had been anywhere as remote and unwelcoming as this place. It was still the same stunningly vast scenery but it looked even more barren and battered by the elements, at least the hut was draught free and quite cosy. We spent the rest of the day trying to fly Aaron's kite without leaving the Earths atmosphere due to the fierce wind. The hut we stayed in was reputed to be haunted by the ghost of an old woman who apparently has been seen standing by the bunk beds. The only spirits we saw came from a bottle although I did hear a bump in the night, just after I got up for a pee and hit my head on the wall of the bunkhouse having forgotten which bunk I was in.

Mark flying Aaron's kite. The wind was so strong at one point when Aaron went to throw the kite up for Mark it took him with it to a height of about seven feet at which point he wisely decided to let go!

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