ICELAND - A game of three halves

And my learning point was..
( I keep the jump leads in a waterproof bag in the tool box behind the panniers). Each time we jump started something I duly put them away - I shouldn't have. I should have put them in top pannier ready for the next jump as it was likely and unloading the heavy pannier, relocating it when the rail was full of mud and locking it when the key hole was now covered in mud was inefficient and slow to repackage whilst other riders are waiting.
 
Next morning I'm asked if today will be any easier :confused:

For the third time this trip we razz north up the F35/Kjölur route stopping at Hveravellir for lunch, later turning east onto some smaller and more interesting trails.

In parts it was muddy and slippy, causing concern for a few.

At the top of the pass in thick mist I'm leaning on a gate talking to the farmer while we wait. We shake hands, mine is engulfed by a huge and powerful grip no doubt hard earned from a lifetimes hard graft.

Shortly before the road we stop and wait for some of the others who are quite some time in arriving, when they do it's at a very slow pace on an easy trail.
I'm guessing the earlier mud had taken it's toll and from this point on a couple of the 'Adventure bike's' tyres barely left the tarmac for the rest of the trip.

At the main ring road we stop at Varmahlíð for fuel and coffee, a familiar looking woman is eyeing our bikes...... well it's a small world sometimes, it's my Belgian friend Karin who also knows Ange from her trail riding trips to Wales.
She's in Iceland with her family viewing horses that could be suitable for her daughter.

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After that lovely chance encounter we need to push on as we want to make the small fishing town of Siglufjörður right up in the north.

Stopping at a reconstructed old village I'd seen during my first trip here and later a couple of lovely old trails which most of us did.

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We meet the others in Siglufjörður where the campsite's set right in the middle of this pretty town.

The old boy who looks after the campsite told us some interesting stories from the towns past then announced tomorrow is a sort of open day where the fishing boats will take people out and hopefully catch fish, bring them back where they'll be barbecued ...... hmmmmmm

There's a change of plan, we'll stay here for two night, go fishing and generally hang out.

There's a thick mist all night but that's not going to stop the fishing.

No doubt flippin Markmoon and perhaps others :mad: will be posting a pic of the giants they caught but here's my offering which at least didn't suffer the indignity of being thrown back for being too small ....... ay Toddy?:D

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I loved that little trail over the top in the mist - twas proper fun and just a shame the view was obscured until we got over to the other side. Wasn't that the one where we stopped for the big group of horses?

I remember the chance meeting in the car park. The lady was eyeing up the bikes and wanted to take a picture. Then she approaches and asked about the KTMs (she clearly hadn't seen the CCM at that point :P), then she recognises you "Tiiiiiim it's yoooouuuuu!" :)
 
Here's a couple of pics just before we get to Grimsnes og Grafningshreppur. You can just see the steam rising from the hot springs in the valley below:
 

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We head down the valley towards bingvellir national park for a coffee, I have mushroom soup and Mark has ice cream and even manages to get some in his gob!
 

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We crack on tall still together as one group, it's July 21st, the first day and around 5:30pm we come across this black sand in Suourland. I'm a bit nervous about crossing sand, earlier in the year during our trip to Morocco I got over confident crossing deep loose sand and had a major tumble. When I got back home a quick trip to A&E and an Xray shows I'd not cracked a rib as I'd guessed but broken two (told you I was in pain! bastards:blast:D). So back to this black stuff, keeping the speed down and the gears low the KTM goes through it without issue, my confidence is back and I know I'm going to love the adventure! It just goes to show that a lot of this scary shit is in your head a lot of the time.

As you can see in the pictures, Tim is ready to help the bigger bike paddle their way through the sand and me I'm taking photos! :augie
 

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Just to show not every shot was wide angle
 
We keep moving and finally get to our first campsite in Suourland, I can't remember what time we got there but I think it was about 6:30pm. We pitch the tents have a bite to eat and bed! It didn't get dark! I forgot about that, I'd been awake since 3am that morning so the non dark situation doesn't stop me from sleeping. However, there seems to be a lot of snoring coming from one tent, more on that later. I didn't take any pictures until the next morning.
 

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So here we are day 2 of our trip, we leave the campsite fuel up, we ride on black top for maybe 30 mins then its back on ash and dirt roads, the riding is good and trying to keep up with Tim on his KTM and Tim French on his big GS we reach speeds of 70 to 75 mph and faster, pulling away from the rest of the group and making great pace. Tim G is setting the pace with Tim F close behind, I'm at a point when I can pass the big GS on the turns and the sand but once we get to a straight the big bike is away. Tim G passes a local in a golf GTI then Tim F passes him, he see me and must have thought no, your not getting past he puts his foot down but he can't keep up with the two Tim's and he won't slow down, very frustrating! when I do pass him and we stop I'm caked in dust and muck, it had been raining earlier and my jacket was soaked.

Spud looking for a sign
 

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Look at those clouds, that was more or less the whole day, start stop with rain.
 

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Keep coming back to this report and stupidly thinking I need to do this on my underpowered moped next year . I hate camping ,am shite off-road and those river crossings look terrifying ......


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Keep coming back to this report and stupidly thinking I need to do this on my underpowered moped next year . I hate camping ,am shite off-road and those river crossings look terrifying ......


Sent from my iPad using Twattybollox

The perfect qualifications and you'll love it!
 
After most of us had our fill of fresh barbecued cod we all did our own thing and dossed around town.

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Anyone who watched the brilliant Icelandic mystery/crime series Trapped will recognise this as the Chief of Police, Andri Olafsson's house ...... if you haven't watched it then it's a pointless photo.

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Siglufjörður was a booming herring town in the 1940's and 50's, the herring left and the town fell flat.

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No this isn't Jo Narvey's kitchen equipment from his pannier, it's part of the very interesting Herring Museum (I wrote about this in my first and unfinished RR so will spare you more detail).

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Inside was an old clocking on machine.
I passionately hate them.
:rob As a young engineer with Rolls Royce my life was governed by one of these devil's time keepers, at 23yrs old enough was enough and my life changed forever as I vowed never to be controlled by one again...... but that's another story which no one's even remotely interested in:D

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Something else which suprisingly wasn't packed away in Jo's pannier.

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Near the harbour were other familiar sights from my former lives.

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The fog lifted briefly at 3am just in time for my wee so was able to glimpse the beautiful mountains, as we crawled from our sodden tents the following morning the sun made a brief appearance giving a clue as to the town's stunning setting.

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The first time I came here Ange and I were virtually the only 'tourists', since then a hotel has been built and the town is picking up again.

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We head out of town through 11kms of tunnel bound for Husavik ...........
 
You have a back up car in the back ground..
is it to carry the faffing big green tent...
or the orangey colourd one,,they must weigh a ton...
 

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We've only covered one shortish trail by the time we arrive in Husavik and MarkMoon's unsatisfied, by now I'd learnt this can only be one of two things:
Either he's run out of Spicy Sausages or he wanted something more challenging. He's fully supplied with Spicy Sausage so he and I unload the bikes and go for a proper ride.

After heading up the mountain then inland but don't want to push our luck, I remember a small trail down on the beach from 5yrs ago.
Hopefully by the time we got back to the camp, Mark had had his 'fix'. :beerjug:

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Back at camp there's been 'developments' ........... three of our group had come to the early conclusion they were uncomfortable with this level of riding, nevertheless they went off to have their own adventures by way of tarmac, we said our fond farewells the following morning.

The other development was Simon's rear brake pads or rather lack of them:D
He was in a right flap phoning here there and everywhere trying to source some, even asking me if it's likely to buy some in Husavik:blast:D

I happen to know that his 650 Dakar pads are the same as mine and I have a spare set, so after letting him stew for a while longer I handed him mine.
Now when I say he was grateful he did draw the line at a BJ :D

Later in a bar, Mark H reminded him to fit them before he became too pissed:beer:

Tomorrow was to be a BIG day:bounce1

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