MilkMaid
Registered user
ICELAND 2017
It’s taken a while to get this ride report written, and as I do (1st March 2018) the UK is currently in shut-down due to the “Beast from the East”. I thought Iceland was going to be cold, but it has nothing on Britain in March!
The trip was organised by Mark Hatto (Merlings1200) and Tim Godsmark (Timolgra) of this parish, who took two groups out to Iceland in June and July 2017. This report is a memoire of the first group’s trip. There were 8 of us in total, but as the report indicates, we were to split into two parties (6 + 2) after the first day of riding. We were: myself, Craig, Mark M, Rupert and the aforementioned Mark H and Tim, plus husband and wife, Ian and George.
This is our story: words by me, photos by everyone, videos by Rupert.
The six of us (left to right): Rupert, Tim, Craig, Mark H, me, Mark M.
Pre-amble
Before our June departure, Mark H organised a shake-down and get-to-know each other weekend for both groups from his base in mid-Wales. I won’t write much about this, other than if you want a great couple of day’s riding green lanes in a stunning location, Mark is your man: https://www.trailridingrhayader.co.uk
Here’s Rupert’s video from the weekend: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G_F7M8Hyn_4&t=1s
Day 0
To the airport
I spend the day working from home in the Welsh borders before driving down to Luton ahead of tomorrow’s flight. After what seems like the longest day in history (I’m keen to get going, and have been for the previous 12 months since I confirmed I’d be on the trip) I give my 3-year old a bath, read her a bedtime story and kiss her goodnight for the final time in a fortnight. After a quick bite to eat with Mrs Milkmaid I hit the motorway only to have my journey time doubled by extensive roadworks on the M1 and a lot of unexplained police activity. I arrive at my hotel at 22:30 (too late to join Mark H and Craig for a beer) and head straight to bed for a fitful night’s sleep – I’m far too excited to sleep properly.
Day 1
Luton to Geysir
I’m up at 3:30 am and drive a short distance to the airport’s long stay car park, making a note on my phone to remind me where I’ve left the car – a lot’s going to happen before I see it again and I’m not convinced my puddled brain will be able to remember where I’ve parked.
After a short bus trip to the terminal I head straight through security into Luton’s newest stag/hen party themeland – there are huge groups of revellers on the lash everywhere at 4am. Lucky bastards! I find Craig and Mark H and join them for a cuppa before boarding the plane.
We land at Keflavik airport at about 9am and jump onto a Gray Line coach which takes us into Rekjavik city where Tim and Rupert are waiting for us at the bus terminal. A quick man-hug with Tim (experience tells me it’s important to get the group bonding as soon as possible on this sort of trip) before we walk down to the port to collect our bikes: me on a KTM 1190R, the others on pathetically small Husky 701s, a KTM 690, a KTM 640 and a CCM 450GP.
As I go to board the bus, it dawns on me that I might have come on a Saga holiday by mistake.
We quickly change into our riding clobber, repack the bikes and we’re finally off on our adventure… all the way around the corner to the petrol station and supermarket. All fuelled up, and with food crammed into every available space in our panniers (plus a six pack of 2.25% beer), we head north east out of Reykjavik towards Pingvillar (the site of the Iceland’s historical clan/parliamentary gatherings) enjoying fast tarmacked roads with sweeping bends hemmed in on both sides by throngs of bluish purple Lupins and a geothermal pipeline.
The bikes in parc ferme.
Above Pingvillar
And then, all of a sudden, Tim leads us up our first trail of the trip. No f*cking about here – it’s a steep, rocky ascent up the side of a wet and windswept mountain. I struggle for traction, but make it safely to a hilltop summit where there’s a very dramatic view waiting for us. As mentioned, it’s fairly wet and windy, and subsequently pretty cold, so we don’t hand around. In no time we’re soon back in the saddle and enjoying more of the type of trails which will become the norm for the next 10 or 11 days.
At the top of the first climb
We stop briefly at the mid-Atlantic rift – the technotronic junction between America and Europe – electing to avoid the main tourist hotspot in favour of a quieter look at the fault line.
America on the left, Europe on the right
Shortly afterwards, we split from Ian and Georgina who will be riding on their own (mostly on tarmac) while we remaining six hit the dirt: Ian broke his hand a few days before we left the UK and George, by her own admission, isn’t sure she’ll be able to manage some of the anticipated river crossings.
The six of us take the F35 towards Geysir, stopping a couple of time so that Rupert can get some drone footage of the stunning landscapes. We’re soon ‘enjoying’ what seem like endless fields of black lava sand, with Rupert and I falling behind as we try to get to grips with this new terrain and tricky surface. I drop my bike on a rocky section (stalled in second gear – should have been in first) and again a little while later in the deep sand (lack of rider skill). Luckily the lads are there to re-right Cuthbert (the slippery pig) and I soon have a chance to repay Craig’s efforts as he drops his bike in deep sand (twice in the same spot).
The lava fields
A few minutes later, Craig’s worrying that he might have damaged something on his bike because his engine management light is shining red. His fears of a damaged radiator were fortunately to come to nothing as it seems the bike had just overheated a little. After a top up with some water the radiator stayed full for the rest of the trip.
Craig inspecting his bike for damage
We leave the lava fields behind and enjoy a seemingly endless trail through open countryside before eventually hitting tarmac again.
After a brief visit to Gulfoss waterfalls we reach our campsite at Geysir. I camp next to Rupert, Tim next to Mark M, and Mark H and Craig are a little further along. There’s no sign of Ian and George when we arrive but their tent is up and both bikes are parked up so we know they’re safe and sound.
Gulfoss (still excited)
It’s our first night on camping rations, with most of us electing to break out an assortment of freeze-dried and ready-to-eat meals. Meanwhile, in a quiet corner of the campsite, Mark H and Craig are creating the first of many Icelandic lamb based dishes which makes me just a little envious. I share my super-strength lager with the group to celebrate a successful first day in Iceland (little did they know the beer was so bloody weak) and a little later Rupert and I break out the whisky. My single malt is delicious, while Rupert’s Icelandic brew – Floki – is, how shall I put this… an acquired taste (and one that only Rupert manages to acquire).
The geyser in Geysir
The posh end of the campsite, where the real cooking takes place
Vile
Video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zPuPJizXBS0&t=192s
It’s taken a while to get this ride report written, and as I do (1st March 2018) the UK is currently in shut-down due to the “Beast from the East”. I thought Iceland was going to be cold, but it has nothing on Britain in March!
The trip was organised by Mark Hatto (Merlings1200) and Tim Godsmark (Timolgra) of this parish, who took two groups out to Iceland in June and July 2017. This report is a memoire of the first group’s trip. There were 8 of us in total, but as the report indicates, we were to split into two parties (6 + 2) after the first day of riding. We were: myself, Craig, Mark M, Rupert and the aforementioned Mark H and Tim, plus husband and wife, Ian and George.
This is our story: words by me, photos by everyone, videos by Rupert.
The six of us (left to right): Rupert, Tim, Craig, Mark H, me, Mark M.
Pre-amble
Before our June departure, Mark H organised a shake-down and get-to-know each other weekend for both groups from his base in mid-Wales. I won’t write much about this, other than if you want a great couple of day’s riding green lanes in a stunning location, Mark is your man: https://www.trailridingrhayader.co.uk
Here’s Rupert’s video from the weekend: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G_F7M8Hyn_4&t=1s
Day 0
To the airport
I spend the day working from home in the Welsh borders before driving down to Luton ahead of tomorrow’s flight. After what seems like the longest day in history (I’m keen to get going, and have been for the previous 12 months since I confirmed I’d be on the trip) I give my 3-year old a bath, read her a bedtime story and kiss her goodnight for the final time in a fortnight. After a quick bite to eat with Mrs Milkmaid I hit the motorway only to have my journey time doubled by extensive roadworks on the M1 and a lot of unexplained police activity. I arrive at my hotel at 22:30 (too late to join Mark H and Craig for a beer) and head straight to bed for a fitful night’s sleep – I’m far too excited to sleep properly.
Day 1
Luton to Geysir
I’m up at 3:30 am and drive a short distance to the airport’s long stay car park, making a note on my phone to remind me where I’ve left the car – a lot’s going to happen before I see it again and I’m not convinced my puddled brain will be able to remember where I’ve parked.
After a short bus trip to the terminal I head straight through security into Luton’s newest stag/hen party themeland – there are huge groups of revellers on the lash everywhere at 4am. Lucky bastards! I find Craig and Mark H and join them for a cuppa before boarding the plane.
We land at Keflavik airport at about 9am and jump onto a Gray Line coach which takes us into Rekjavik city where Tim and Rupert are waiting for us at the bus terminal. A quick man-hug with Tim (experience tells me it’s important to get the group bonding as soon as possible on this sort of trip) before we walk down to the port to collect our bikes: me on a KTM 1190R, the others on pathetically small Husky 701s, a KTM 690, a KTM 640 and a CCM 450GP.
As I go to board the bus, it dawns on me that I might have come on a Saga holiday by mistake.
We quickly change into our riding clobber, repack the bikes and we’re finally off on our adventure… all the way around the corner to the petrol station and supermarket. All fuelled up, and with food crammed into every available space in our panniers (plus a six pack of 2.25% beer), we head north east out of Reykjavik towards Pingvillar (the site of the Iceland’s historical clan/parliamentary gatherings) enjoying fast tarmacked roads with sweeping bends hemmed in on both sides by throngs of bluish purple Lupins and a geothermal pipeline.
The bikes in parc ferme.
Above Pingvillar
And then, all of a sudden, Tim leads us up our first trail of the trip. No f*cking about here – it’s a steep, rocky ascent up the side of a wet and windswept mountain. I struggle for traction, but make it safely to a hilltop summit where there’s a very dramatic view waiting for us. As mentioned, it’s fairly wet and windy, and subsequently pretty cold, so we don’t hand around. In no time we’re soon back in the saddle and enjoying more of the type of trails which will become the norm for the next 10 or 11 days.
At the top of the first climb
We stop briefly at the mid-Atlantic rift – the technotronic junction between America and Europe – electing to avoid the main tourist hotspot in favour of a quieter look at the fault line.
America on the left, Europe on the right
Shortly afterwards, we split from Ian and Georgina who will be riding on their own (mostly on tarmac) while we remaining six hit the dirt: Ian broke his hand a few days before we left the UK and George, by her own admission, isn’t sure she’ll be able to manage some of the anticipated river crossings.
The six of us take the F35 towards Geysir, stopping a couple of time so that Rupert can get some drone footage of the stunning landscapes. We’re soon ‘enjoying’ what seem like endless fields of black lava sand, with Rupert and I falling behind as we try to get to grips with this new terrain and tricky surface. I drop my bike on a rocky section (stalled in second gear – should have been in first) and again a little while later in the deep sand (lack of rider skill). Luckily the lads are there to re-right Cuthbert (the slippery pig) and I soon have a chance to repay Craig’s efforts as he drops his bike in deep sand (twice in the same spot).
The lava fields
A few minutes later, Craig’s worrying that he might have damaged something on his bike because his engine management light is shining red. His fears of a damaged radiator were fortunately to come to nothing as it seems the bike had just overheated a little. After a top up with some water the radiator stayed full for the rest of the trip.
Craig inspecting his bike for damage
We leave the lava fields behind and enjoy a seemingly endless trail through open countryside before eventually hitting tarmac again.
After a brief visit to Gulfoss waterfalls we reach our campsite at Geysir. I camp next to Rupert, Tim next to Mark M, and Mark H and Craig are a little further along. There’s no sign of Ian and George when we arrive but their tent is up and both bikes are parked up so we know they’re safe and sound.
Gulfoss (still excited)
It’s our first night on camping rations, with most of us electing to break out an assortment of freeze-dried and ready-to-eat meals. Meanwhile, in a quiet corner of the campsite, Mark H and Craig are creating the first of many Icelandic lamb based dishes which makes me just a little envious. I share my super-strength lager with the group to celebrate a successful first day in Iceland (little did they know the beer was so bloody weak) and a little later Rupert and I break out the whisky. My single malt is delicious, while Rupert’s Icelandic brew – Floki – is, how shall I put this… an acquired taste (and one that only Rupert manages to acquire).
The geyser in Geysir
The posh end of the campsite, where the real cooking takes place
Vile
Video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zPuPJizXBS0&t=192s