The Story

The anticipation for our trip had been building for more than a year, tracing back to a leisurely Sunday morning in April of 2022, when we woke up in a charming cabin near Eureka Springs, Arkansas. The setting was idyllic, a peaceful getaway with friends; and it was during this escape that a single question set our grand adventure in motion. I brought Matt a cup of coffee as I joined him on the front porch. Before I even sat down he asked me, “What do you think about biking the Ring Road?”

My mind raced with thoughts. I hated biking, even though my only experience in the past decade had been on exercise bikes. Biking on a real bike was a foreign concept to me, and my last encounter with a real bike had been at least fifteen years ago. Besides, we didn't even own bicycles. Yet, amidst my initial hesitation, I couldn't help but understand where the question was coming from. In the summer of 2021, the two of us accompanied my late best friend and her then fiancé, Kenzie and Mason, on a trip around the Ring Road, though by car. It was a last minute adventure that was planned after the news of her ovarian cancer progressed to terminal cancer. Iceland had woven itself into our story, igniting a yearning to return and explore it further.

I was excited as I answered him, “Let’s do it!” And just like that, the planning commenced. Bikes were acquired, and an array of camping and bikepacking gear started filling our space, marking our entry into the realm of outdoor exploration. The world of camping, bikepacking, and backpacking had always intrigued us, making these acquisitions more than just purchases. We began training with short bike rides, gradually building up to longer ones, and eventually embarking on weekend bikepacking escapades.

2022-2023 was a year of change for Matt and I. Matt found a new job, we relocated to Seattle, and our business ventured into uncharted territories. Yet, amidst this tumultuous period, our Icelandic dream remained steadfast. The prospect of sharing this challenging adventure, of having three weeks of unencumbered exploration, fueled our excitement. And as our plane touched down at Keflavik International Airport, the realization dawned upon us: our awaited adventure was finally here.

Day 1

As to be expected, our plan began crumbling right from the start. The ripple effects of our recent move were inconvenient. We flew overnight from Seattle to Chicago where we had an unbearably long 12 hour layover. Then another overnight flight from Chicago to Keflavik. To make things worse, the Seattle TSA treated one of our bike boxes rather unkindly, one of our boxes had been split all the way down the middle. The second box was better off, but still had a decent amount of rips from their search. This resulted in a hasty repair job involving an impressive amount of tape at Chicago's airport. And despite our best efforts using the original strength Dramamine, sleep was a luxury we were denied— leaving us a tad delirious but with an unwavering excitement to kick things off.

We also arrived at Keflavik much later than our originally anticipated 6:00 am arrival due to a delayed flight out of Chicago.  A lengthy customs line only exacerbated the situation. But, we finally made our way to an overcrowded baggage claim to search for our beat up bike boxes. We found them easily enough by the oversized luggage sign. It was more difficult, however, to secure a luggage cart. After about 20 minutes of squeezing through the sea of travelers, I finally found an abandoned cart. I asked the people around if it was anyone’s, and once I had confirmation that I wasn’t stealing it, I began to make my way back towards Matt and our bikes. 

On my way back, I quickly realized why this cart was abandoned. One of the wheels was jammed, so it was quite difficult to push. When Matt saw my battle with the broken cart, he looked amused but expressed his concern that it wasn’t up for the job. We looked around and didn’t have any other options, so we loaded our boxes on, and with a joint effort, managed to push the cart to the front of the airport. Luckily, once we were out front, there was a plethora of working abandoned carts for us to choose from. We swapped out luggage carts before making our way to the Keflavik Bike Pit. 

Once in the bike pit, we assembled and packed our bikes without incident, albeit it took us a little longer than we anticipated. Once our bikes were built out, packed, and our broken boxes recycled, we were ready to officially roll out on our much anticipated trip. With giddy anticipation, we hopped on our bikes and pedaled toward 21 days of freedom and exploration. 

Pulling out of the airport parking lot, we opted for a quiet ride through the town of Keflavik, avoiding the busy highway into Reykjavik for as long as possible. Once we were forced to go on the highway, we were both really pleasantly surprised at how wide the shoulder was. We felt very protected from cars and had plenty of room. 

As expected, rain started to fall not long after we set out. We were well aware of Iceland's reputation for unpredictable weather, so we weren't surprised or discouraged. What did catch us off guard was the subpar performance of some of our rain gear, which barely held up against the downpour. Barely an hour into our ride, both our hands were soaked through and frozen, as well the pants under my shell, and my legs. By the time we arrived at a Reykjavik Bonus to stock up on food, we were both confused and slightly discouraged. At some point, all material will give into water. And we accepted this, especially cycling in a place like Iceland. But with good shells, that should happen further into a trip–not 10 miles. 

Adding to our predicament, it became clear that we wouldn't reach our intended camping store in time to buy fuel for our stove (we later learned we could find it at N1 gas stations). While shopping, Matt suggested we stay in Reykjavik for the night, allowing us to dry our wet gear and  troubleshoot the rain gear conundrum. Our original  plan was to camp just beyond Mosfellsbær, at Mosskogar Camping, maybe 15 or 20 more miles from where we were. However, once we left Reykjavik, opportunities for resupply would be few and far between until we reached Akureyri six days down the road. Besides, after more than 36 hours without rest, the allure of a comfortable bed was hard to resist. So, we booked a hostel, completed our grocery shopping, and made our way toward downtown. 

Looking back, I can’t help but smile at how excited we still were the rest of that evening. We explored Reykjavik on our bikes, stumbled upon a local wing spot for a satisfying dinner to bring back to our hostel: wings seemed like the perfect comfort food after two days of airport fare. We hung up our dripping wet gear and sat down to eat our wings. Opening the bag, we both ended up in a fit of laughter; the restaurant must not have had to-go silverware. Instead, they offered plastic gloves to keep our hands from getting dirty.

Once we ate and showered, we began investigating the situation with our shells. It became clear that my pants had an unexpected gap at the waist that only appeared when I was leaning forward on my bike, allowing water to sneak in. And despite being put to the test in Seattle, our supposedly waterproof gloves turned out to be more water-resistant. Perhaps misty Seattle wasn’t quite the right testing ground for Iceland. 

With dreams of the journey ahead, we drifted off to sleep, knowing that the next day held a visit to Icewear for gear upgrades. I was on the hunt for replacement pants, and Matt was eager to find more reliable gloves. Oh, and I needed a new water bottle, somehow having managed to lose one during our ride into town.

Recapping Day 1: We covered 35 miles and tackled an elevation gain of 1,325 feet. Not a bad start to our somewhat soggy adventure!

Day 2

Our second morning kicked off a little later, which was a welcome change after our long two days of travel. Icewear didn’t open until 11:00, allowing us to enjoy a slow morning. We arrived at Icewear shortly after it opened and found new rain shell pants for me that cinched at my waist, keeping water out. They also did a fantastic job cutting the wind. In hindsight, these pants were probably the best things I could have purchased, the quality was leaps and bounds above my first pair. We also found waterproof overgloves and the sweetest store cat who let us pet him for some time. Before embarking on the day's journey, we found a charming bagel shop close to Icewear, and indulged in a second breakfast.

Our route out of town called for a couple of pit stops—a bike shop for a water bottle and a gas station for a gas canister—before we set off. The first leg took us on bike trails through Reykjavik, into Mosfellsbær. The weather couldn’t make up its mind, with rain and sun intermittently joining us on our ride. Thankfully, our newly rain gear held its own, and we managed to stay dry. Spotting another Bonus in Mosfellsbær, we decided to load up on more snacks. Tomorrow's journey promised a bit of a dry spell in terms of food stops, at least until the second half of the journey, so stocking up felt like a wise move. 

Leaving Mosfellsbær behind, we officially hit the road, though not exactly on Route 1. We opted for an alternate route– Route 36 to Route 48–that would lead us to the Akranes Fjord, Route 47, which was the only way around the tunnel. Taking the backroads was a brilliant choice, as they offered us a break from traffic. The initial stretch was a bit of a challenge for both of us. We tackled our first significant climb—an 11-mile uphill stretch with varying degrees of steepness. It was also pouring rain during the entire climb, making us nervous with cars passing so closely, as we weren’t used to such a narrow shoulder yet. I had a few clumsy moments during this climb—falling off my bike and fumbling most of my dismounts due to the unfamiliar weight of so many layers. 

Overall, this climb felt overwhelming to me. With the culmination of the rain, cars, my first long climb– it was like the reality of how hard parts of this trip were going to be. I even had a moment of doubt, wondering if I was cut out for this, though it was fleeting. We made it to the peak of our climb and took a small break by the roadside. The rain had stopped and the sun was starting to break through the clouds. That alone was enough to lift my spirits, and we were both pleasantly surprised that the forecast for the remainder of the day was sunshine. We enjoyed a linner of peanut butter tortillas before making our way towards our campsite for the evening.

Back on the road, the exhilaration of the journey reminded me why we went on this adventure in the first place. We made a turn onto a remote road, a 23-mile stretch that would eventually merge onto Route 47, the fjord road. I will never forget riding down this stretch; it was pure magic—downhill, bathed in sunlight, accompanied by waterfalls, and blissfully devoid of traffic, except for a few sheep. Riding alongside Matt, we soaked in the sights, laughter in the air, entranced by the beauty around us. Time lost its grip on us; we had absolutely no idea what time it was or what day it was. We were fully present, immersed in the moment. A testament to why we planned this trip in the first place.

Turning onto Route 47, the beauty of the fjord struck us. We treated ourselves to a bit of chocolate and set out for what we believed would be an easy 12-mile stretch to our campsite. Mother Nature, however, had other plans in store. Fjord roads are known for their roller-coaster elevation changes—steep climbs followed by steep descents. Nothing foreign to us, especially having lived in Seattle, but battling such a relentless headwind was new. Uphill climbs became slow and grueling, with wind resistance slowing our pace even further. On downhills, the wind made us work harder than we anticipated. Given the day's already considerable exertion, this unexpected twist took its toll on us quickly. Our spirits remained high, but by the time we rolled into our campsite, Camping Bjarteyjarsandur, some 2.5 hours later, we were more than ready for dinner and some sleep.

Matt was on a mission as we set up our tent, eager for a quick dinner and getting into bed as quickly as possible, given that it was just past 11:00pm. With our meal consumed, a shower enjoyed, and a moment to unwind, we surrendered to sleep, the day's adventures fading into dreams.

Recapping Day 2: We covered 55 miles and tackled an elevation gain of 3,175 feet.

Day 3

Groggy from the late night before, we woke up later than anticipated. We quickly shrugged this off– our bodies clearly needed it. With daylight eternally stretching across our path, we had no real schedule to adhere to. Plus, we only had a 40 mile ride ahead. We packed up camp, had a leisurely breakfast, and rolled out, ready to tackle the day.

The fjord was much kinder to us today, its winds seemingly taking a break. With only a brief climb greeting us as we left our campsite, we coasted downhill towards Route 1. Though sunshine graced us at the start, it quickly faded to overcast skies. Lupines kept us company, offering a touch of color to a moody morning, and we were happy to soak in the views around us. We were making great time, which we were really excited about. While we weren't bound by a strict schedule, we were hoping to make it to our campsite as quickly as possible that day. It was only a 40 mile day and we had a campsite that advertised laundry and a warm pool. A much-needed oasis as we geared up for the impending challenges of three consecutive rides, each 65-70 miles, coupled with steep elevation.

Our plan was quickly thwarted as we turned onto Route 1 though, only to be met by a headwind of epic proportions. The wind was formidable. And while it was funny at first, it quickly became discouraging. Despite only 13.6 miles separating us from a planned pit stop at the Bonus in Borgarnes, it took us nearly three hours to get there. There were multiple points during the 13.6 miles that we were pedaling downhill, in our biggest gear, and the wind was still powerful enough to stop us in our tracks. 

As we were approaching Borgarnes, we saw that we would need to turn left and cross a bridge to continue on Route 1. The only reason that held any significance to us was because it meant a change of direction. Surely a crosswind couldn’t be as bad as a headwind? And perhaps not, but since the bridge was open and offered no protection from the wind, we found ourselves being pushed from the shoulder out into the road. Walking the last half mile to the Bonus became the wisest course of action. Matt and I weren’t the only ones being pushed around from the wind; the ocean moved furiously below us– the wind producing waves at a pace I didn’t know possible. 

There was a cafe attached to this Bonus, so we indulged in pastries and coffee before restocking our supplies and resuming our journey. The warmth indoors helped restore our energy and we felt ready to cycle for the remaining 15 miles. Thankfully, while we still had to bike into the headwind to get to our campsite, the wind had died down some. We were even able to maintain an average speed of 6-8 mph—a commendable feat given the circumstances. However, we encountered an unexpected challenge: both our wrists began to ache. Every five miles, we had to take a brief break to give our wrists some relief. The rest of our body was still feeling strong, but our wrists were starting to feel the toll of our trip. 

Three miles outside of our campsite, we spotted an Orkan gas station. Matt suggested that we get some hot food to go, as a way to lift our spirits after the surprisingly hard day we had. That way we could shower, start laundry, set up the tent, and not have to worry about cooking as well. I instantly agreed and we made a quick pit stop. Our impromptu stop seemed like a brilliant plan, until the wind kicked up again, rain joining the fray. What should have been a straightforward final stretch turned into a grueling hour-long battle. Finally, we reached Varmaland Campsite. Our optimism took a hit as we discovered the campsite's amenities were located up a hill and closed at 8:00pm—information we wish we'd known earlier– as we would have adjusted our day’s stops; we arrived around 8:30 that evening. Undeterred, we set up our tent in the rain and improvised with sink baths.

Inside our tent, we savored our now lukewarm fish and chips, sharing a wary chuckle at the day's events. Despite the challenges, our spirits remained relatively high, although the prospect of the upcoming three days weighed on our minds. We closely examined the route and campsites ahead, realizing that the three consecutive 65-70 mile rides were inevitable if we were to reach Akureyri in time for a rest day. Laundry facilities were a rarity until then, and there were no showers at the campsite tomorrow in Hvammstangi. After some debate, we booked a hostel for tomorrow night. Our tent is cozy and we both enjoy sleeping in it, but we knew we would really appreciate a shower after not having one tonight, and a chance to refresh our clothes. From there, we did some research on why our wrists were aching and if there was anything we could do to alleviate them. We found some helpful tips on how to position your seat to take pressure off your wrist, friendlier ways to hold the handlebars, and padded cycling gloves were recommended. We couldn’t get the gloves until we arrived in Akureyri, but it would be easy enough to adjust our seats in the morning. Once we finished researching, we said goodnight, put on our eye masks, put in our earplugs, and passed out immediately.

Recapping Day 3: We conquered 41.1 miles and tackled 1,600 feet of elevation gain—a testament to our determination amidst the challenges of wind and rain.

Day 4

Panic entered my body almost immediately upon opening my eyes. My body hurt, and I was nervous for our 69.9 mile day. Much to my surprise, I started to feel fine as we moved around and packed up, and my panic subsided. It was a beautiful morning: no wind, no rain, a bright overcast day, and mild temps. This optimistic atmosphere boosted our spirits as we readied ourselves for the day's ride. We packed up, made some adjustments to our bike per recommendations we found the night before, and set off. Our initial destination was only seven miles ahead, where we planned to eat brunch in Bifrost. The ride was smooth and scenic, our bodies seemingly in sync with the rhythm of the road. 

We never checked the restaurant hours, and found that we had 40 minutes to kill until it opened. We chose to wait– seeing as we forgot to buy breakfast food and the only other thing we had to eat was a lot of pasta or granola bars, and there would be no other food options until we arrived at Hvammstangi. While we waited, we noticed another bikepacker cycling by. He saw us and pulled off to say hello. We found out that his name was Martin and he was from Germany. He was on his way to Reykjavik after cycling the Westfjords. He wanted to do the ring road afterwards, but ended up abandoning this plan after spending some time in the Icelandic weather. We couldn't blame him! We were only on day four and the weather had been wearing on us as well. We swapped tales, shared laughs about Iceland’s weather, and bid our farewells after an engaging conversation. A quick meal later, we were back on our bikes, the day's long stretch ahead of us.                                                                                

Initial miles treated us kindly—temperate weather, flat terrain, and minimal wind. Our route led us to a mountain pass that would define our day's challenge: 20 miles of uphill followed by 17 miles of downhill, accounting for 95% of our climbing for the day. The ascent began with a manageable gradient, allowing us to admire the surrounding scenery. Not too far into our climb, we came across another bikepacker. It was our turn to pull off and say hello to him, because he was enjoying a lunch that looked like it consisted of spoonfuls of peanut butter. After we said hello, he confirmed my suspicions by replying, “Peanut butter is the best, it is known.” We laughed and chatted with him for some time. He was also from Germany, and he was cycling the ring road counterclockwise, so he was nearing the end of his trip. He was able to complete his trip in 14 days, with NO breaks! Incredible. His set up was a lot lighter than our own, only having a handlebar bag, a frame bag, and a tail bag, which allowed him to go a bit faster than Matt and I could. It was so encouraging to hear that someone {just about} finished the ring road! If he could do this in 14 days, Matt and I definitely could in our 19 days. 

We continued climbing for some time, and then found a spot to pull over for a quick lunch. By this point, we had gained quite a bit of elevation and only had 5 more miles to go until we reached the summit. The temperature had dropped, the wind was picking up, and rain began to fall. Despite these challenges, we persisted, trudging through steep hills that occasionally forced us to dismount and walk. Finally, the summit unveiled breathtaking vistas and an unwavering wind. Our descent began, a triumphant reward for our uphill journey. Yet, the fierce wind stopped us from fully enjoying the thrill, forcing us to watch our speed the entire way down. On our way down, we passed a family of bikepackers cycling counterclockwise. We all passed by with just a wave, as they were in the middle of their climbing section, but it was nice to see another group nearing the end of the journey. Another reminder that Matt and I were not foolish for doing this; a thought coupled with ferocious winds and a near freezing temperature. 

Descending further, the wind subsided, rain ceased, and the temperature gradually improved. We soon learned that the weather through mountain passes would be more extreme and unpredictable, but at least they would be fleeting. With our mountain adventure complete, we were left with 20 miles ahead and lifted spirits given the absence of rain and wind. Two hours to our hostel seemed feasible.

The weather did in fact stay on our side, but, with about 15 miles left to go, Matt and I hit our limit. I am not sure if it was the accumulated fatigue of the previous days, a lack of sleep, or simply the limitations of our endurance. We stopped frequently at turns off to lay in the gravel, giving our bodies a chance to stretch out. To stay alert, Matt resorted to spraying himself with water, and we both engaged in spirited conversations with passing sheep, this mainly consisted of us baaaa-ing at them. Both of us continued falling into fits of laughter, laughing for minutes on end at nothing in particular. At least we were in good spirits, except for being furious at Komoot, who we insisted kept lying to us. We would bike for what felt like ever, to the point where I thought “Okay, we had to have gone at least five or six miles,” only to check with Matt, who said that we’ve actually only gone two. Matt was in disbelief as well. 

With about seven miles left to our hostel, I felt Matt’s energy start to shift; his complexion paling and his demeanor changing. Recognizing his state, I summoned a reservoir of false energy, focusing on keeping our spirits high. Though I was also exhausted, I knew that our shared strength was important. A little over an hour beyond our initial estimation, we reached our hostel, our bodies pushed to the limit. Matt really was in bad shape; as soon as we got into our room he laid down on the floor and didn’t move for half an hour. He said he felt terrible and just needed a minute. While he rested, I got him some water, and went on organizing our stuff: charging our lights, batteries, and banks, hung up our tent to dry, and got our shower stuff ready to go. Luckily, Matt felt a little better after a shower. We started laundry, shared a lot of ramen for dinner, and went to relax for a minute before bed. While Matt was definitely feeling worse off, we both were pretty out of it. Neither one of us could go more than a few minutes without dropping something and carrying on a conversation was impossible. Both of us were a mess, we went to bed hopeful that sleep would rejuvenate us.

Recapping Day 4: We rode 70.2 miles and tackled 3,400 feet of elevation.

Day 5

Unfortunately, a good night of sleep didn’t bring the expected relief for either of us. Matt was clearly under the weather, grappling with congestion, a sore throat, and body aches. Whether it was the weather or exhaustion, he had come down with a cold, accompanied by a slight fever. 

As for myself, I felt a debilitating discomfort that defied easy diagnosis. I assumed I was dehydrated, despite my continuous intake of water throughout the previous days, my urine's brown hue was telling me that I needed even more. I was also foggy and sluggish. 

We had accidentally slept in–giving us only 10 minutes until checkout. As we rushed to pack everything up, we had no time to talk about our plan for the day. So, we cycled to the local Orkan for a cup of coffee and some hot food to talk everything over. It became evident that biking was not an option—my sluggishness and Matt's illness ruled out any hopes of surviving the–what would have been–68 mile day with 4,000+ feet of elevation. We deliberated two options: Option 1 involved heading to the campsite for an early rest day, potentially compromising our schedule. Option 2 entailed us taking a bus to Akureyri, arriving a day earlier than anticipated, but gave us more wiggle room in the east and the south. After weighing the pros and cons, Matt ultimately voiced his inclination toward the second option, a sentiment I shared. The allure of savoring the east and south of Iceland's beauty was too great, neither one of us wanted  to worry about making up miles there. I did express my concern that we would regret not biking the entire ring road. Matt said that the trip is just what we make it, and if there was a part to bus, this would be the part: the weather was looking rough the next two days and, when compared to the rest of Iceland, perhaps the least interesting scenery. 

We looked at the bus schedule, and changed our reservation for the hostel in Akureyri by pushing it a day forward. We found that the bus wouldn’t arrive at Hvammstangi until 9:15 pm. With it being only 11:30,  we decided to bike to the campsite, pitch our tent, and catch up on much-needed rest.

Post nap, I felt much better. My morning's hydration efforts had worked wonders, dispelling the haze that had clouded my mind. Matt, however, was still grappling with his illness. We packed up, made some pasta, and set off toward the bus stop. In true Iceland fashion, it was pouring rain, and we had a small climb in a headwind.

While waiting for the bus, we met another traveler, James from Brisbane. He was taking 12 weeks to explore every corner of Iceland. He had no car nor a plan– he simply walked everywhere and relied on the bus system to bring him to his next town when he was ready. He told us that the next day was his birthday and he was excited to spend the day at Godafoss and then the evening in Akureyri. We continued to exchange stories and time flew by quickly. Before we knew it, the bus appeared before us, and with the driver's assistance, we loaded our bikes and set off toward Akureyri. 

We arrived in Akureyri just past midnight. Fortunately, our hostel was just a quarter-mile from the bus stop. We said our goodbyes to James and wished him both a fantastic birthday and remainder of his adventure before setting off for our hostel. Once checked in, we wasted no time, allowing the comfort of our beds to envelop us.

Day 5 Recap: Our day's feat encompassed a mere 6 miles and 425 feet of elevation gain, ultimately leading us to the waiting embrace of a bus to Akureyri—our gateway to rest and recovery.

Day 6

We took a full day off of the bike in Akureyri. Maybe a little early in our trip for being our only off day, but it came at a needed time with Matt being sick. Most of our day was spent sleeping and relaxing, but we found time to stock up on food for our next leg, bought padded cycling gloves to help take some pressure off of our wrists, and took plenty of trips to our favorite hot dog stand. 

On our first trip to Iceland we also had an extra day in Akureyri. We shared an AirBnb with Kenzie and Mason in the downtown area. Across the street was a cute hot dog stand that we tried on a whim. I ordered one volcano dog – a spicy hot dog with a black bun–that quickly turned into all four of us ordering two or three volcano dogs each. It was delicious to say the least. As soon as Matt and I knew we were going back to Akureyri, we began daydreaming about being reunited with our beloved volcano dog. As it so happens, our hostel was right next door to the AirBnb we stayed in last time, making it convenient for us to take multiple trips to our cherished hotdog stand throughout the day.  

Taking a break from the volcano dog, we went out and treated ourselves to a nice dinner, not knowing when the next time hot food would be available. Then in bed, we adjusted our route a bit for the south and the east, making sure that we weren’t cycling more than 55 miles a day, as that seemed to be our limit. A trade-off that reclaimed two planned rest days, but we thought that shorter days on the bike would be better for us in the long term. Plus we knew there would be a lot of places we would want to stop and see, making the miles go by slower. We went to bed excited to get for the remainder of our trip! 

Day 7

When we woke in the morning, we were excited to learn Matt was mostly back to normal. We enjoyed a quick breakfast at our hostel before setting off on, what we were anticipating to be, a challenging day. 

We knew today would be a big climbing day, with the most extreme part being right at the beginning. There is a 7 km long tunnel to get out of (or into–depending on the direction you are going) Akureyri. Because of the traffic, bikes are not allowed through this tunnel. To circumvent the 7 km tunnel, we had three options. One was to bus through the tunnel, where it would stop just on the other side at Godafoss. The last two options involved mountain passes. The first pass seemed quite ambitious; adding  20-25 miles to our ride and had grades of 30% (according to Komoot). A tad excessive– and unsafe with the wind we had faced so far. The second mountain pass option was far less steep and was only supposed to add 10-15 miles to our overall route, the trade off being biking through looser gravel. 

Seeing as the buses didn’t run on Saturdays and the first mountain pass was an unsuitable match for the inclement wind conditions we’ve encountered, we opted for the gravel option. Initially we felt great about the decision, the climb was tough but the views were more than a fair tradeoff. Too soon, the paved road faded into gravel, and it was around that time that we began to feel uncertain. Our path was narrowing and soon became nonexistent, reducing to a narrow patch of dirt leading to a creek crossing. Beyond the creek, the trail vanished completely, leaving us to navigate the mountainside with trepidation. Matt jumped across the creek to climb up a bit, to see if he could see anything further up as I double and triple checked the route. As Matt came back into sight, I met his gaze, and he was shaking his head. He informed me there was no real trail ahead, just a thin line of mud with minimal margin for error.

Reluctantly, we descended, opting to hitchhike through the tunnel instead. Hitchhiking is common in Iceland, so we hoped that someone with a large enough car would be willing to help us out. An hour later, we found ourselves still searching for a ride. That’s when Matt had the idea to try and call a taxi. He made a quick call, and before we knew it, an XL taxi was on the way to meet us at the scenic outlook just before the tunnel. While waiting for the taxi, I started not feeling well. In fact I had felt it coming on all morning, but tried to ignore it. My body aches were beginning to be uncomfortable now though, and my throat was definitely sore, probably exacerbated by the frigid temps that morning. I finally told Matt how I was feeling, relaying that it was my turn to battle with the cold he had just recovered from. He felt my forehead and confirmed that I had the same low grade fever he had. Despite our excitement for this trip, it seemed that we could not catch a break. 

Any deliberations on what to do about this were cut short, however, as the taxi had arrived. We loaded up our bikes and set off through the tunnel. Our driver drove us to Godafoss, which is just a few miles on the other side of the tunnel. We explored Godafoss for a few moments, bought some soup to warm up and ease my aching throat, and set off towards our campsite in Reykjahlid while I still had energy. Luckily, my cold was mild enough at this point that I felt confident carrying on to our campsite.

Our path to Reykjahlid lay through two big climbs, each ushering in its own set of challenges. The initial hill demanded a lengthy climb through thick fog; we could hardly see the next pylon in front of us, and each pylon was only spaced 25 meters apart! Hugging the shoulder the best we could, we made our way up the first hill. The grade of our climb was mild enough and we were thankful it wasn’t raining. There was a point during the climb we got a tad nervous: there was a sheep and her two lambs who were wanting to cross the road in the fog. They would run to the middle of the road and stay there instead of crossing completely. Our fear was, one, that we would witness these adorable animals being struck by a car. And two, with limited seeing conditions, a car would potentially swerve into us trying to avoid the sheep. Thankfully, the sheep finished crossing the road after their few minutes of lollygagging and were quickly swallowed by the fog. Close to an hour after we started our climb, we reached the summit of our first hill and the fog cleared. The descent down was rewarding, even more so that visibility wasn’t an issue.

Conditions for our second hill were harsher; the grade much steeper; albeit a shorter climb to reach the top. The closer we got to the summit, the darker and denser the clouds became. At the top, we rounded a corner and stopped in our tracks–we were about to cycle through a legitimate rain cloud. Without an alternative, we put on our over-gloves and rain jackets, and pedaled forward. Fortunately we were not caught in the rain for long. Once we started to descend, the cloud became less dense, until we were out of it altogether. The Myvatn region greeted us with the gift of sun–a sight that brought me to near tears.

At some point, my cold and discomfort became overwhelming. We turned north, encountering a formidable headwind that seemed to sap any energy I had and only exacerbate how I was feeling. Matt's encouragement, the sun's warmth, and our campsite's proximity propelled me forward. And while Matt’s encouraging words and the sun helped a lot, I couldn’t have been more thrilled when we arrived at the campsite and I could finally get off the bike. Matt graciously insisted that I go take a long warm shower while he set everything up, and I didn’t argue. I enjoyed my shower, started cooking for us, and went right to sleep, not moving for 12 hours. An amusing tidbit– Matt didn’t shower that night because the showers were communal and he was too shy!

Recapping Day 7: We covered 36 miles, surmounting 2,700 feet of elevation gain.

Day 8

I woke up feeling well rested and relieved because, initially, I seemed to be feeling okay. I could tell that I was in much better shape than last night, so I geared up for the day with cautious optimism. As we got everything packed and made breakfast, I tried to tune into my body so I could accurately assess how I was feeling: I was congested, but everything else seemed to be in working order. I genuinely thought I was feeling better! Matt, of course, was skeptical, but I assured him I sounded worse than I felt. He said okay, but still looked unconvinced. Our journey that day lay ahead, veiled in uncertainty, as we faced a 104-mile stretch between Reykjahlid and Egilsstaðir—a vast expanse devoid of towns, gas stations, campsites, or restaurants. This was a considerable challenge, especially by bike.

From the beginning, we knew what our plan was for this isolated section. While wild camping in Iceland is illegal, there is a forgiving loophole in there for cyclists and hikers–if you are truly unable to make it to the next campsite, then you are permitted to wild camp as long as you leave no trace. We always planned on biking as far as we could– if we made it all the way to Egilsstaðir, great! And if we could not, we would camp and then continue to Egilsstaðir the following day. This would be completely reliant on the wind conditions, and apparently, my ability to bike while being under the weather.

We finished breakfast and set off, stopping at a small supermarket on the edge of Reykjahlid for some extra food and two liters of emergency water. I was much colder than normal and I was worried that I might not be feeling so great after all, but then remembered we were facing the coldest day and night on our trip so far–our high just above freezing and the low predicted to dip below freezing that night. However, in the first four miles of our day we would have a 12% mile long climb, so I would warm up pretty quick. 

To this day, I believe that hill was out to get me. The further up we got, the stronger the head wind blew. The rain was icy cold and with each passing second I felt more and more miserable: body aches returned at full force, a fire burned in my throat, and the congestion made it difficult to breathe. I’m not sure if I had tricked myself all morning or if the extreme conditions just shut my body down. We pulled off to a scenic overlook to catch our breaths, and I could feel tears well up as frustration surged within me. I worried about being a burden to our progress, that I might taint our trip, and irrationally, that Matt would be upset with me. Of course, none of that was true! But it felt real at that moment. 

Matt's reassurances managed to dispel my anxieties, but his concern was palpable. He suggested that we cycle back down the hill and to the Myvatn Nature Baths. We were only two miles away from them, and we could warm up and figure out what to do from there. I was hesitant at first, but eventually agreed. 

Once at the baths, I didn’t leave the hot tub for over an hour. Warmth seeped into my body, infusing me with a renewed vitality. A sauna session followed, and then we regrouped in the lobby, ordering warm food and hot tea. And even though I tricked myself once already today, I felt like I could more accurately read my body after some rest. My determination resurfaced, and I proposed a plan to cycle as far as my energy would allow and we would just make the rest up tomorrow. I told him I would be shocked if I even had 30 miles in me, and that it could very well only be 15-20 miles. He studied for me for sometime and then asked if I was sure I didn’t want to go back to the campsite. I assured him I could cycle a bit, and while far from healthy, I think he could tell I was feeling a bit better than earlier too. From there, Matt's support was unwavering, and he even revealed a silver lining—a forecasted tailwind for tomorrow. Knowing that we would have a tailwind the following day, we both agreed that anything we did today would be a win. Encouraged by this prospect, I resolved to make the most of the present moment. Additionally, we agreed that we would stop cycling at 8:00 pm at the latest. This way I could get 10-12 hours of sleep, Plus, Matt’s cold only lasted two days and I was already on day two– so I figured tomorrow I would feel significantly better. 

With renewed vigor, we tackled the hill for the second time. Just four hours until 8:00 pm, all I had to do was focus on pedaling. The ride presented a different, albeit still beautiful, landscape than what we have seen so far. We passed geothermal springs and witnessed the transformation of green hills into an almost Martian landscape. A frigid headwind persisted, it was much colder than anything we had faced yet, but I knew we would be in our warm tent soon so I powered through. Looking back at pictures of myself from that day is comical. I was as pale as a ghost and my eyes looked so swollen, purple, and tired–but I still looked happy. For all of the hardships we were facing, we were both still elated and grateful to be doing this together. 

I wasn’t sure how many miles we had cycled, I only knew it wouldn’t be as many as it felt with the wind slowing us down. Regardless, I told Matt that I was nearing my limit and we should start looking for a discreet place to set up camp. I was pleasantly surprised to hear him say that we had done 25 miles and it was only a little after 7:00 pm. I noticed a bus stop up ahead with some large signs and thought it would provide good shelter from the wind. I pointed it out to Matt and he reluctantly asked if we could continue on for 5 more miles. He quickly followed that up by asking me, “Do you feel that?” I was confused and told him I didn’t feel anything. He said, “Exactly!” He smiled when he saw I was still confused and said,” There is no wind on our faces, we finally have a tailwind.” It took me a minute, but I realized he was right. Excitement took over and I quickly agreed, “Yeah! 5 more miles in this should be quick.” 

We flew along and looked for another spot, and quickly found one behind a group of rocks. We set up camp and crawled in the tent to finish our mats and sleeping bags before we started cooking, where our challenges persisted. My sleeping mat turned out to have an irreparable hole in it and would not hold any air. This of course would happen on the coldest night we had to face. Matt, being literally the best human I know, insisted that I take his. I started to argue and he cut me off by saying that if I wasn’t sick he probably wouldn't have offered, and if he gets too cold, he’ll just come to share mine. I laughed weakly and agreed. We improvised by layering our rain shells and extra clothing beneath the broken mat, creating a makeshift barrier between Matt and the cold ground.

As we readied ourselves for dinner, our final obstacle arose—a malfunctioning fire starter, a tool that was supposed to last a lifetime. Despite our efforts, it refused to spark. We tried for what felt like hours: shaking it, repeatedly pressing the button, making sure it was dry, and cleaning it. We even took a 20 minute break to see if it needed time to completely dry out and still had no luck. We technically had food to eat for dinner, some spoonfuls of peanut butter and some granola bars, but how were we supposed to make it 74 miles tomorrow with no food? And nowhere to even stop to fuel us on the way? Most of  the food we had at that point needed to be cooked.

Remembering the bus stop we passed and thinking of no viable alternative, I reluctantly told Matt that I think we would need to bus to Egilsstaðir the following day. He met my gaze and agreed. We were not willing to bike with so little fuel to sustain our bodies. We checked the bus schedule and we were relieved to find that it would be here at 9:00 am. The decision was made with a heavy heart; despite the setbacks, we had hoped to cycle the rest of our route.

We were relieved we had a way out of this predicament, but incredibly defeated that we had to bus–again. We were so excited for this trip and despite facing so many hardships, we had maintained so much positivity and excitement. It seemed that we were getting dealt bad hand after bad hand. Neither one of us mentioned going home or giving up. The closest thing to giving up was initially said by Matt. I believe he phrased it, “If it doesn’t get better after  Egilsstaðir...” And I agreed with him. I reminded him that we had over half of our trip left and it was the part we were both excited about. He weakly agreed. We checked the lighter one more time, had no luck, and settled in for some sleep.

Recapping Day 8: Covering 30 miles with an elevation gain of 1,425 feet, the day was characterized by challenges, introspection, and a willingness to adapt to unforeseen circumstances.

Day 9

When I woke up, I was greeted by an unexpected warmth that contrasted the below freezing temperature outside. I quickly remembered I was the one with the working sleeping mat, and checked with Matt to see how he slept. To my relief, he said he also felt warm and cozy– despite the freezing temperature. In a last ditch effort, we checked our lighter again to see if luck would be on our side, but it still wasn’t sparking. We packed up, shared our last granola bar, and set off five miles back toward the bus stop we passed last night.

The journey back was marked by an ironic twist of fate and we couldn’t help but laugh. Since we were backtracking, we had to bike in a headwind, which meant if we were able to bike to our original destination, we would have enjoyed a tailwind today. But oh well, what could we do?

We pulled into the bus stop with 40 minutes to kill. I started layering up to combat the frigid temperature as a car pulled into the lot. A younger guy came out and asked what we were doing– biking in these temps and in this void. We laughed and shrugged, and he introduced himself. His name was Jakub. Turns out, he just pulled off to talk to us. He confirmed we were waiting for the bus and then insisted we wait in his warm car. I have to say, it didn’t take much convincing. 

Jakub was hilarious and we quickly found ourselves in an engaging conversation. He moved to Iceland from the Czech Republic five years ago. He told us a lot about Icelandic culture from his point of view and was curious to know about the states. We exchanged instagrams and he insisted that we reach back out to him when we make it back to Reykjavik, so we could grab a drink together. We agreed and thanked him for his kindness, it truly made our morning. With five minutes to go until the bus was scheduled to arrive, we stood out by the stop so it wouldn’t miss us. Jakub took off and we were briefly alone with the cold again. 

A few minutes later, I saw what looked like a small airport shuttle bus– the kind that takes you to parking lots or the rental car hub– coming down the road; one of the only vehicles we had seen aside from Jakub’s that morning. I joked that it was our bus and Matt just laughed. You can imagine our surprise when it did indeed pull into the lot and opened its doors for us. When the driver opened the back to grab a bike rack, we noticed another bike with some bags sitting in the trunk, so we thought there could be an additional bikepacker on the bus. From there, the driver helped us load everything up and then we were on our way to Egilsstaðir.

Aside from us, there were three other people on the bus. A man and women in the back, and then across the aisle and one row up from us, a middle aged man with impressive dreads. Almost immediately after sitting down, the man with the dreads turned around and asked where he put our bikes. He introduced himself as Beppe and we quickly found out that he was the other bikepacker, busing from Akureyri to Egilsstaðir. His achilles was bothering him so he decided to take the most remote section easy, so as to be able to enjoy the rest of his trip. His story unfolded, and as conversations flowed, the motion of the bus lulled me into a brief slumber.

With a gentle nudge from Matt, I woke up to find that we had arrived to Egilsstaðir. The bus station sat right beside our campsite, a fact that amused us as we contemplated the unnecessary reassembly of our bikes just to walk them a short distance. Checking in and pitching our tent, we discovered a silver lining—a nearly empty campsite due to how early we had arrived. Capitalizing on this advantage, we completed laundry without having to fight anyone for a washer and dryer, and enjoyed the luxury of a private shower. Our spirits were lifted further when we saw a hostel adjacent to our campground that offered warm food and coffee.

After lunch, we walked to Egilsstaðir’s camping store and were fortunate to find a new sleeping mat. We also picked up a few extra lighters. We returned to the campsite and enjoyed an empty kitchen and communal area. Beppe joined us, sharing tales of his adventures and comparing our respective routes. Through this, we found that we had the same time frame to complete our journey, his ending just one day before ours. We extended an invite to Beppe, seeing if he would want some company on the second half of his journey, and ensuring that he understood that no pressure accompanied the offer. He smiled and said he appreciated that very much, but he wasn’t sure what his plan was yet. 

Matt and I cooked some dinner and headed to the tent a bit early that night. We were optimistic that today was our turning point. We had a tailwind predicted for tomorrow and sun predicted once we entered the east fjords. We were also climbing our last mountain pass tomorrow. We fell asleep, excited and hopeful the rest of the trip would have less hardships.

Day 10

The day started off with some coffee and breakfast in the community kitchen. We sat down to find Beppe already halfway through his coffee. He asked us where we were planning on staying that evening. I shared our plans with him, a humble campsite in Stodvarfjordur. It was literally just a place for us to put our tent and use an indoor bathroom. No other facilities, but seeing as we had a nice campsite planned for the following night, that didn’t bother us much. He shared another one that was a bit larger and more well equipped just 12 miles farther. Matt and I had noticed that one as well, but didn’t know how long the mountain pass would take us, nor how many photo and rest breaks we would want in the east fjords–as Matt had essentially been chomping at the bit to get to them. 

We packed up, bid farewell to Beppe, figuring we would see him on the road at some point. Then our journey commenced with an immediate ascent, carrying us out of Egilsstaðir and into the much anticipated embrace of the east fjords. Initially, the grade was super steep. For the first two or three miles, there were many points Matt and I had to walk. But, a welcome shift greeted us as we rounded a corner where the grade became much more manageable, just long. It was around 11 miles of climbing and then a nine mile descent—an exhilarating reward for our efforts. Luck was also on our side as we had a tailwind the entire day, a fact that we were grateful for during our long climb. 

The mountain pass revealed a panorama of awe-inspiring landscapes that just completely dwarfed our existence, evoking a sense of gratitude at our chance to even be able to take this trip. The temperature grew colder as we neared the summit, marked by an enchanting sleet that danced around us. Fresh snow capped nearby mountains, a constant reminder of how cold we were- though we knew it would be fleeting. 

The ride down was the most fun I had on the bike, up until that point. I didn’t pedal for nine miles straight as we raced downhill. I was entranced by the surroundings, each twist and turn in the road revealing new facets of this enchanting realm. I became giddy as I saw sun breaking through the clouds near the bottom of the pass. 

Our journey continued, leading us to a five kilometer tunnel—a rare opportunity to cycle through the heart of a mountain. The tunnel's warmth, absence of wind, and playful echo provided a delightful interlude, anticipation pouring out of us– we knew the east fjords were just on the other side of the tunnel. 

Sun greeted us as we emerged from the tunnel. We saw there was a small pull off for a scenic view. Hungry, Matt and I pulled in to make lunch. This proved to be a comedic challenge, given that the wind was almost as strong as it was going into Borgarnes on day three. We managed to heat up our food behind some small rocks, providing some relief from the wind. Amidst the gusts, a sense of tranquility enveloped us, accompanied by the breathtaking panorama of the majestic east fjords. Bathed in sunlight our spirits were lifted as we savored the moment. Somewhat reluctant to disrupt our peaceful state, we packed up and set off for the last 16 miles of that day’s journey.

The fjord was a wild experience; alternating between short, steep climbs and descents, interspersed with stretches of less extreme gradients. While flat terrain was rare, the tailwind's assistance transformed the climbs into exhilarating feats. We were effortlessly conquering grades that would have been formidable in any other circumstance. Because of this, we made it to the end of the fjord in what felt like no time at all. The end of this fjord is marked by a picturesque orange light house. Capturing the moment in photographs and savoring the views, we granted ourselves a brief break before continuing. 

Turning the fjord's corner, a six mile coastal stretch awaited, where the juxtaposition of fjord and ocean painted an enchanting scene. The interplay of sunlight and overcast skies gave us a moody ambiance. Matt wanted to stop for a few more pictures, so we pulled over–and to my surprise, Matt took a comical stumble off his bike onto the shoulder. Those aren’t uncommon for me, but I have never seen Matt even trip in all of our time together. 

The campsite was very humble, but clean, and the view nestled amid the fjord’s grandeur. It seemed as though the sun was about to leave for us the day–the sky was becoming more overcast with each passing second. Right before the sun left us completely, we noticed just a sliver of sunlight bouncing off the fjord in the most moody, contrasty, enchanting, and magnificent way. We were completely captivated with the view, not having seen anything like it before.

We had barely pitched our tent when we saw Beppe riding past. He saw us and turned our way, deciding to camp with us that evening. We cooked together and talked for some time. Retreating to our tents, we were greeted by a sudden storm, its fierce winds threatening to sweep our tent away at any moment! The lure of sleep was much stronger than the wind, however, because I quickly fell asleep amidst all the noise. 

Recapping Day 10: We rode 46 miles and conquered 2,450 feet of elevation gain.

Day 11

Day 11 was the type of day that originally inspired us to embark on this trip. The morning commenced within the cozy confines of our tent, where Matt and I prepared some oatmeal. We ventured outside and found Beppe already awake, enjoying a morning cigarette. We said good morning and got into chatting about our campsite for the evening. Matt and I shared our plan to stay at the campground in Djupivogur, about 50 miles down the road. He agreed that would be a good stopping point, as the next campsite wasn’t for another 30 miles. And just like that, we added Beppe to our group. 

The three of us set off for the next town at the beginning of the next fjord, only 12 miles away. We were planning to stop there for a coffee and a second breakfast. There were some consecutive steeper climbs than we weren’t expecting right from the get-go. We checked the route as we caught our breath and we saw that the majority of the steep climbs were in the first 12 miles. Really, this was the perfect justification for our coffee and second breakfast to turn into a large early lunch– which is exactly what happened. We enjoyed a coke each, three orders of fish and chips, three different sides and two different desserts to share. 

Properly fueled for the rest of our trip, we set off for the longest fjord we’d have to ride through that day. Beppe momentarily disappeared into the distance, as Matt and I succumbed to the allure of capturing the breathtaking scenery through our lenses. This pattern of stopping for photos, intending each to be the last, persisted—fueling a lighthearted cycle of jests. We’d always say okay, okay last stop for pictures, but then not even ten minutes down the road, there would be a view even better than the previous one, and we would have to stop. 

Bathed in sunlight, the day blossomed as one of the warmest and sunniest yet. We shedded our rain shells for the first time, something we had not dared to consider before today. The embrace of the sun, coupled with the pristine landscapes, invoked a sense of euphoria and freedom, erasing all of the hardship we had experienced before this. It was days like this that inspired our trip here in the first place.

With 12 miles to our campsite, we saw Beppe taking a break at a viewing point, talking to a Dutch couple taking a break from their camper van. We joined the impromptu gathering, our spirits lifted as our newfound friends extended the warmth of hospitality by offering us a cup of coffee. Engaging in animated conversation, we listened enthusiastically as they described a three day and three night glacier backpacking trip they went on. It turns out, they had similar opinions of the strong winds here in Iceland. After asking us a bit about the logistics of a bikepacking trip, we parted ways. I was starting to become grateful for fleeting encounters with new friends on our trip; people’s kindness often came out when we most needed it.

With 12 miles to go, the three of us set off from the view point. We flew past waterfalls, sheep, and wildflowers. The fjords couldn't have been more picturesque. In fact, with only five miles to go we pulled off the road to take some more pictures. It was actually at a place we took some pictures on our first Iceland trip, so we were excited to recreate the moment. We even got some silly pictures of Beppe. I went to pick up my bike and noticed that somehow, my chain popped off and was jammed between the chainring and the frame. It took a few minutes for the three of us to get it loose, but once we did, my bike was as good as new and we set off toward Djupivogur. 

Djupivogur greeted us with a panorama that defied description—the majesty of rolling fjords, encircling mountains, and the serene coast merged into a visual symphony. Eagerly settling into our campsite, our tents were erected, giving us a vantage point for the breathtaking vistas that enveloped us. After setting up camp, Matt and I went to shower, and then met Beppe in the bustling kitchen. We were surprised how busy this kitchen, and campsite in general, was! The kitchen offered two burners, one sink, and about two dozen people all waiting to use them. We noticed a lot of people sitting at the tables indoors just using their little stoves. Matt and I waited for a bit, got impatient, and just used an electric kettle to heat up some water for our noodles. Dinner that night was a packaged pasta with some seasonings. The noodles were extra al dente… but we were too hungry and tired to care. Beppe, being rather passionate about pasta,  judged our dinner with a look of disgust and amusement. He then cooked his instant mashed potatoes the same way. 

As the evening progressed, bonds deepend. Beppe’s company became a cherished addition, his presence enriching our shared journey. A later bedtime found us basking in the afterglow of a remarkable day– both Matt and I feeling grateful our trip was making such a dramatic turn for the better. 

Recapping Day 11: We rode 50.9 miles and tackled 2,425 feet of elevation gain.

Day 12

The day dawned with familiar routines, as we dismantled our campsite and went to prepare breakfast. Looking through our food bag, we found that we were low on many items and found that we had no breakfast to cook. So, we told Beppe that we were going to stop at the supermarket on our way out of town. He confirmed that our camping spot was Viking Cafe, on Vestrahorn Beach right outside of Hofn, in case we don’t cross paths again until the evening. We confirmed and then embarked on our impromptu shopping expedition. 

This supermarket was a bit different than the ones we had been to previously. It had different products and a more limited selection. That, coupled with Matt's familial comedic saga that was developing that morning, extended our stay longer than intended. As we were checking out, we noticed Beppe checking out right next to us! We laughed and found a little table outside to enjoy our breakfast of delicious Icelandic pastries. As we ate, we checked the wind forecast. Yesterday the wind was tame, but today it was supposed to be stronger. Fortunately, it seemed to be on our side. 

Matt and I were particularly excited about the ride today. Vestrahorn beach is our favorite in Iceland, and the Stokksnes region is my favorite landscape in the country. Additionally, Matt and I were eager to get to a certain scenic overlook today. Our favorite picture together is from our previous trip to Iceland, at that very same overlook. We were excited to recreate the photo as well relive some of our cherished memories from the first time around.

Today’s ride was every bit as beautiful as the previous days. The beginning had the same majestic feeling that is so omnipresent in the east fjords, but you can tell we were approaching the Stokksnes region; this stretch, marked by its jagged peaks juxtaposed against black sand and dramatic cliffs, heralded our transition from the fjords to the coast. The weather painted a canvas of contrasts—cloudy days offered moody landscapes, while sunny interludes showcased the sky's kaleidoscope of hues, a breathtaking spectacle during the midnight sun, should you ever be up late enough to witness it. 

We spent some time at our scenic viewpoint capturing probably too many pictures. We got quite a few of Beppe, hoping to give him a new profile picture for his online dating profile. The night before, we learned that he is semi-recently single and ready to venture into the dating world. 

The rest of the day unfolded with simplicity and splendor, our trio reveling in each mile. Frequent breaks, necessitated by our stiffening bodies, did little to dampen spirits when we were surrounded by such magnificent vistas. Eventually, our final ascent of the day loomed—a steady climb culminating in a tunnel that marked our passage onto the south coast. Emerging, we were greeted by the awe-inspiring presence of Vatnajokull, Europe's largest glacier. Three mammoth glacier outlets extended towards the road, a mesmerizing and humbling sight.

I forced myself to look away from the outlets and saw Matt and Beppe turning on a familiar dirt road. Only three kilometers until our small campsite at Vestrahorn beach! The wind was fierce and coming from all directions, or so it seemed, and I suppose that would make sense; an amalgamation of forces from the mountains, glacier, and ocean. We struggled a bit on the loose gravel with the fierce winds on our way to the Viking Cafe. We were surprised when we arrived to see only a small patch of grass and mostly camper vans. Uncertainty flickered momentarily, I was worried that this would only be a campsite for vans and RVs, but didn’t have time to express this. As I was about to express my concern, Matt walked right into the cafe to inquire about a campsite.

Luckily for us, the small grass spot was for tents. This campsite even offered a kitchen space and free showers. And perhaps most importantly, free entry to Vestrahorn beach. Unluckily for us, the wind was more formidable than we realized. We attempted to set up our tent while Beppe enjoyed a cigarette and laughed at us. Our tent is relatively low to the ground, and yet, the wind was still blowing the poles and tent into the ground. While we had stakes that would keep the tent in place, the wind was too strong for our tent poles. There was no way our tent would survive a night here. We checked the wind forecast and saw that the wind was only going to pick up as the night went on. And then as if the wind wanted to further prove its point, as we were looking through the forecast, the wind actually picked up my bike completely off of the ground, and pushed and flipped it over a few feet away. This was with all my equipment still on the bike–weighing 60-70 pounds!! We stared in disbelief and then I asked Matt if he wanted me to go see if there were any rooms available in their guesthouse. He agreed that would be best. 

Perhaps a blessing for our wallets, the guesthouse was completely booked up. The young man who was helping me looked out and saw the wind for himself, he smirked sympathetically and said that our best bet was for him to refund us and we carry on an additional 10 miles to Hofn. He informed me that it is significantly less windy there and the campsite offers better protection from the wind. 

So that is what we did. I ate some chocolate for some energy and we carried on. Once back on the Ring Road, the wind was in our favor. It was a quick and scenic ride, albeit a late one. We arrived in Hofn around 10:00 pm. The campsite was right across from a N1, so we picked up something quick for dinner and then went to pay for a campsite.

While searching for a spot for our tents, a young man approached us saying he liked our bike set up. His name was Willard and he was from Chicago. He was also biking the ring road clockwise. We chatted for some time and then I asked him what his plans were for his next campsite. This was something our trio had been discussing, as there were 80 miles between Hofn and Svinafell– the next closest campsite. Certainly doable with the right wind conditions and the flat roads of the south, but with so much to see in the south Matt and I were hesitant to bike all the way through in one day. Our original thought was to wild camp again. 

Willard told us that another bikepacker told him to email Guesthouse Gerdi. They are known for letting bikepackers camp on their property, and suggested we do the same. It was exactly halfway between here and Svinafell. We thanked him as I began composing the email. From there the familiar routine of showering, eating, and relaxing before bed took over. Falling asleep, I was grateful for the unexpected turn of events, providing us a place to stay for tomorrow.

Recapping Day 12: We rode 71.2 miles and climbed 2,950 feet of elevation.

Day 13

After a slightly delayed start due to our late arrival the previous night, we packed our belongings and ate a swift breakfast. As I browsed through my emails, a wave of relief washed over me upon discovering Guesthouse Gerdi's positive response, confirming our camping reservation for the evening. Sharing this news with Matt and Beppe elicited sighs of relief, uniting us in the anticipation of a more comfortable night ahead. 

The day began with a challenge. A sense of fatigue permeated our bodies from the previous day’s demanding ride, coupled with a fierce headwind. The initial ten miles tested our resilience, our bodies pushed to their limits. During a mild climb that felt disproportionately grueling with the wind, I began to feel as if I didn’t have full control over my bike, so I went to stop and walk a bit – as the roads were busy. I raised my hand to let Matt know I was stopping and as soon as I squeezed my breaks, the wind forced me out into the middle of the highway. Swiftly regaining control, I managed to turn my bike in the correct direction and get back toward the shoulder, only to see a giant tractor behind me. Thankfully there was a good amount of distance between us, but I pulled off at the next point I could to collect myself. I was left a bit shaken.

It wasn’t long before we turned a big corner and this powerful wind came to our aid once again– and with it, a newfound vigor. The remainder of the 30 miles went by quickly and seamlessly. There were quite a few breaks to stretch our bodies and a spectacular vista accompanied our journey, as Vatnajokull Glacier stood as a steadfast companion, offering a majestic backdrop to our coastal ride.

We arrived at Guesthouse Gerdi earlier than expected. It was a lovely evening and this was probably our favorite spot to camp because of how secluded and tranquil it was. The guesthouse would allow us to use a room to shower in the morning, once a guest has checked out and before the room was cleaned. We got unlimited free coffee, tea, and hot chocolate from the guesthouse lobby, and they had a highly reviewed restaurant. After pitching our tents, Beppe, Matt, and myself cleaned up the best we could and enjoyed some time indoors as well as some warm, real food, and a glass of wine. Our evening here is one of the most cherished evenings of the trip. 

Recapping Day 13: We rode 42.2 miles and  gained 1,525 feet of elevation.

Day 14

Matt and I had an unintentionally slow morning. We woke up ravenous and decided to go grab breakfast from the guesthouse. It was the best breakfast we had yet, and we really enjoyed having some coffee to start our day. While we ate breakfast, I checked with the receptionist to see if we would be able to wash our laundry here. It wasn’t quite necessary yet, but Matt and I thought it would be easiest to do it here if we could. It was still quite early in the day and we had yet to shower or to pack anything. With our morning to-do list still as incomplete as it was, we knew we wouldn’t have to wait much longer for our laundry to be done. We also knew this would be better than staying up late and fighting for one washer at a campsite. To my relief, they were happy to help for a small fee and ensured it wouldn’t be much longer than two hours. While we waited, we got to shower, taking longer than normal, enjoying private and luxurious shower accommodations. After that we packed and waited in the lobby for our laundry, enjoying more coffee. 

In no time at all, our laundry was returned to us and we were able to head out. It was only 11:45 and we had an easy 40 mile ride today, with some exciting stops along the way. The weather was warmer than it had been on our way to Glacier Lagoon and Diamond beach. As nice as staying at Guesthouse Gerdi was, I remember chatting Matt’s ear off about a grand plan I had that would allow us to live in Iceland; a pipedream we’ve joked about for some time. There really are no campgrounds between Hofn and Svinafell. 80 miles really doesn’t sound like a lot, and it isn’t by car, but this is one of the busiest places in Iceland. On top of that, camping is incredibly popular in Iceland; so much so that there are usually campsites every 30ish miles, with a few exceptions. So, I had the brilliant idea that we purchase some land and start a campground. 

This would be no ordinary campground!! We would have a guesthouse on property with a variety of rooms, each with their own private bathroom. Our camp site would be large, with plenty of space for campervans and RVs. Additionally, we would have a separate, slightly more private area for hikers and bikers with adequate protection from Iceland’s fierce winds. Each section would be complete with adequate kitchen, bathroom, and shower facilities to support the number of people we can host. The showers would be free and laundry would be 300 krona per machine. We could add a few “glass huts” for winter camping and northern light viewing by the glacier. Of course, we will have a humble restaurant and bar on property. And last, but certainly not least, a bike shop!! A station to repair and tune up your bike along with some supplies that a bikepacker might need. Matt was enthusiastic and played along but I am half serious about going through with this idea, it’s ingenious.  

A serene 13-mile ride brought us to the iconic Glacier Lagoon and Diamond Beach, a landscape that had captured our hearts on our first trip. Matt and I were shocked to see how many people were there. When we originally went in 2021, it was busy, but not this busy. It was giving, an-American-National-Park-in-the-peak-of-summer– vibes. We still aren’t sure if it was busier this time around due to our first trip being during Covid, or perhaps if this is a testament to the transformative power of social media– given Iceland has really been put on the traveling radar lately. Perhaps both. Despite the crowd, we were still excited to see the sights again.

We checked out the lagoon first, walking around and taking pictures. Despite the heightened activity, the lagoon's majestic icebergs retained their allure, shimmering in shades of blue that seemed almost otherworldly. And the size of some of the icebergs is truly incomprehensible. From there we went to the food trucks for lunch, fish and chips sounded more enjoyable than peanut butter tortillas, and this was supposed to be a holiday after all. We were surprised to see Beppe in line at a food truck as he left much earlier than we did. We joined him and ate lunch together before crossing the highway and exploring Diamond Beach. 

The contrast of the ice against the black sand was breathtaking. We walked around, soaking in the sites of these beautiful pieces of ice on the beach. When I spotted a particular piece of ice– a silly idea was born. One of our cats, Mia, loves to play with ice cubes at home. She swats them around, chases after them, and then licks them until they are gone. Inspired by our sweet girl, I ran over to a giant piece of ice and pretended to lick it the same way Mia does. This elicited booming laughter from Matt, and confused chuckles and a perplexed look from Beppe. 

Once our detour was complete, we had an easy 27 miles to Svinafell campground. The sun came out and it proved to be a warm afternoon, giving us the gift of biking in a t- shirt for the first time all trip. The sun-drenched landscape and a slight tailwind gave Matt and I an unparalleled sense of freedom and euphoria. We flew to Svinafell, accidentally leaving Beppe in the dust. Matt and I made the 27 mile trek in under two hours. That afternoon was a dream; the warm sun soaking into our skin, the captivating scenery unfurling before us, a tapestry of rolling mountains, a black sanded coast, and glacial vistas that seemed to exist solely for our enjoyment.

Svinafell campground welcomed us, offering a charming backdrop for our evening–aside from a hostile kitchen environment. Theatrics aside, there were only four burners and one sink for a few dozen campers, so it was a bit cut throat. I also felt like I was being judged for a humble meal of pasta and Heinz beans. I must have felt flustered, because it turns out, I forgot to grab and pack our pot that evening, though we wouldn’t find that out for a few days. 

Recapping Day 14: We rode  40.7 miles and conquered 1,625 feet of elevation.

Day 15

A new day dawned with an unexpected gift—a brilliant blue sky stretching endlessly above. I basked in the sensation of warmth that greeted me within my sleeping bag, an unusual occurrence in the Icelandic climate. I was giddy that it was warm enough to only put on light pants, a t-shirt, and my crocs. Matt asked skeptically if I would be able to bike in crocs and I assured him it would be the best decision of my life. Spoiler alert: it was. It kept me cool and it was nice for my feet to be able to breathe and stretch out. I didn’t even put my crocs in sport mode.

At this point in the trip, we were over cooking– and over cooking breakfast in particular. So we stopped at an Orkan in town for breakfast before heading out. The start of our trip presented perhaps the most impressive views of the glacier we had yet. It would also be the last day we would be riding alongside Vatnajokull, a fact that made me sad. Over the last four days I had grown accustomed to her presence.

Despite my high spirits, I quickly realized today was going to be a tough day for me on the bike. My body was uncharacteristically uncooperative and I could not get comfortable on the bike. I found myself needing a break every five or six miles, even if it was just for a minute or two. I needed to get my butt off the seat and take the pressure off of my wrists. Matt was feeling better than I was, but assured me he wasn’t far off from how I was feeling, and greatly appreciated the number of breaks we took that day.

Even though I was hurting, I was happy to be on the bike. The stark contrasty scene of black sand and sharp mountains slowly gave way to green mountains, a sea of long green grass, and bright wildflowers as we made our way to our destination. I marveled at the journey's diversity, a testament to the ever-changing beauty that Iceland revealed. And even with all of the breaks I needed that day, we still made it to Kirkjubæjarklaustur before 5:00 pm. We set up our tent and showered immediately, needing to wash away the accumulation of sweat and grime, a small price to pay for our beloved warm day.

After our showers, Matt insisted that we go and eat at a local restaurant instead of cooking, something to reward our aching bodies. We convinced Beppe to come spend more money with us and had a lovely evening. As we strolled back to our campsite, a chill crept into the air, a sensation I embraced as I nestled into my sleeping bag, a perfect equilibrium between warmth and coolness–a fitting prelude to another day of adventure.

Recapping Day 15: Our aching bodies managed to ride 46.7 miles and climb 1,075 feet of elevation.

Day 16

Truly, at this point cooking breakfast just wasn’t even an option, so after packing up the three of us stopped at the local N1 for some breakfast. And I am so glad we did! Matt was off looking at drinks and I noticed a section with small puffins that were meant to be keychains. I told Beppe how I had been wanting one all trip as a bike mascot, but Matt kept discouraging it because of how dirty and wet it would get. Beppe laughed and said not to let Matt be a party pooper, and that I could just put him up when it rained. Beppe's encouragement led to the adoption of Floki, the puffin mascot, and just like that–a new member joined our ranks.

With Floki now part of our entourage, I was inspired to fuel today's ride accompanied with the energizing beats of 2000s hip-hop—the golden era of hip hop. Whether it was the company of my newly acquired puffin friend or the rhythm of the music, a surge of vitality coursed through me. It was as if I had been gifted with a new body, propelling me forward with newfound speed and vigor. As the miles unfolded before us, I realized that Matt had momentarily fallen behind, prompting a collective decision to let him take the lead–ensuring that we could stay together. 

The view was beautiful that day; it started as an endless field of moss that slowly gave way to fields of lupines. Rolling green mountains and the Mýrdalsjökull glacier and Katla volcano slowly came into view as we approached Vik. 

A little over halfway, we found a good spot to have lunch. It was cooler than the past few days, so I suggested that we cook up some ramen for lunch. That is when we found out I lost our cooking pot. Matt and Beppe light-heartedly speculated that the absence of the pot might have contributed to my unexpectedly swift pace that day, a notion we couldn't help but jest about. Thankfully, the rest of our trip went through heavily populated areas, so it would be easy to eat dinner in the towns we were in. We snacked on a few peanut butter tortillas before making our way toward Vik.

Vik had rain forecasted for the evening. Not wanting to set up camp in the rain, we raced the weather on our way into Vik. It was the first time we rode in the rain since Egilsstaðir. Luckily, we only had to ride in it for a short time and we beat the main part of the storm, so we got to set up camp in dry weather. I showered while Matt took a small break. We had communal showers again– The shower room offered four shower heads and a huge line of people waiting for a chance to clean off, seeing as the Vik Campsite was huge. I was lucky, the women’s shower room was empty. I enjoyed an empty shower for a whole minute or two before the other three showers were taken up. As I left, I noticed a long queue of people waiting for both showers. I relayed this information to my shy Matt, who decided to forgo a shower that evening.

Beppe opted to cook at the campsite while Matt and I found a local pub with views of the black sand beach: Reynisfjara. A satisfying meal was followed by a tranquil stroll down to the beach, where we enjoyed it for some time. We were on the back side of the beach as opposed to the famous part, and we got to have the whole beach to ourselves. We kept a safe distance from the water as there was no warning system on this side and after some time, we returned to the campsite and went to bed–the sound of soft rain hitting the tent. 

Recapping Day 16: We rode 45.8 miles and climbed 1,075 feet of elevation.

Day 17

Iceland treated us to another warm day, and even Matt joined the biking with crocs club–though he opted for sport mode. Our day began with a gas station breakfast, and then we faced a monstrous climb as soon as we left Vik. But to be honest, the climb didn't register much with either of us, because the breathtaking view had us spellbound. Katla and the glacier stood majestically in the distance, while lush fields adorned with lupines and wildflowers and enormous emerald mountains painted a fairy-tale scene. Descending was pure joy, and the journey continued towards Hvolsvollur.

As we pedaled, the realization that we were nearing the end of our biking adventure began to sink in. Bittersweet feelings crept in – we had been through so much, relishing in daily freedom. Matt and I were cherishing this time together–neither one of us were ready to step back into reality quite yet

Our route led us to Skogafoss, a popular waterfall. Unlike our trip in 2021, it was swarmed with tourists–but the raw power of the falls still captivated us. After a quick lunch, we were back on the road, fueled by gas station sandwiches and the sun. With the wind at our backs, we outpaced Beppe yet again, arriving at Seljalandsfoss ahead of him. While waiting, we enjoyed a coffee and I gave in to a touristy impulse– buying an Icelandic wool beanie with the cutest puffins on it! 

As we waited for Beppe, I asked Matt if he would want to walk behind Seljalandsfoss again, seeing as we already did in 2021. He stared at it for a moment before saying that he was fine and just happy to view it from afar if I was. I agreed, mostly because I didn’t want to wait in the line to do so. I looked down the road a bit and saw a long line formed for the secret cave waterfall as well, Gljufrabui. I didn’t even ask Matt if we would want to go in there again, as I knew it wouldn’t hold the same magic it did on our first visit. The first time we were in Iceland, we had no idea that the secret cave waterfall existed. We were just exploring and walking down the path. No one was around, and we eventually stumbled upon this cave and walked in–amazement and surprise on all of our faces. Waiting in line and knowing what I would see didn’t sound as appealing. I think a lot of it had to do with this place reminding me of Kenzie more than some others as well. This all being said, if you’ve never gotten to experience either of these waterfalls, do not let the lines deter you! They are magical experiences that you should have.

Beppe finally arrived and to our surprise, he had been here before too. We knew he had been to Iceland once, but mentioned nothing about these particular waterfalls. We viewed them for some time, got some fun pictures, and cycled the remaining 12 or so miles to Hvolsvollur.

Our first stop in Hvolsvollur was a Kronan, to find something for breakfast in the morning, as Matt and I were planning to head to Reykjavik before the stores would be open. When we pulled up, we noticed another cyclist. I immediately recognized her from the bike pit at Keflavik airport! She and her friend were setting up their bikes at the same time as Matt and I. We didn’t really talk to each other however, both focused on our own tasks. As soon as I said hello, she recognized us all well, and laughed. We caught up on our trips. Her name is Weronika. We learned that she and her friend participated in the Westfjords Way Race and now she was doing some solo traveling through the Highlands before setting off to bike Norway. She mentioned she was slowing down a bit because she had been on the bike since May. I remember staring at her in awe asking how she can arrange so much time for herself in this way! Weronika explained that she is a freelancer who strategically works in the winter. We talked to her for a while before crossing the street to go to N1 for some dinner. As we were about to set off, she noticed my shoes, and asked– with what sounded like amusement and surprise– if I had been biking in my crocs. I laughed and said yes, and that I had been for a few days. It felt so nice with the warm weather. She told me that was very bad ass of me and said she should try it. 

Beppe headed to the campsite and Matt and I went to eat dinner across the street. Over dinner, Matt and I stalked Weronika’s instagram since we exchanged handles with her. Turns out, it is her who is the bad ass! She did not just participate in the Westfjords Way Race, she won it in the women’s department!! Matt and I fangirled a bit and then began talking about our trip for tomorrow. 

Matt looked at me and then said, “I don’t know how you’re feeling, Liv, but I feel complete with this trip. I have biked what I set out too.” I asked for some clarification because he sounded like he was getting at something, and I wasn’t catching on. He then went on to explain that he wanted to bus into Reykjavik tomorrow. Matt is the most cautious person I know, and I knew his reasoning would be the traffic. Seconds later he confirmed my thought by telling me he was worried how heavy the traffic would be between Selfoss and Reykjavik, where it changes from a two lane to a four lane highway. From what we could tell on Google maps, the shoulder was just as narrow as it was everywhere else on Route 1. I mulled this over for some time. He was justified in worrying about the traffic, I was nervous too. Today was the worst day for traffic yet, but the past few days have been bad too. We nearly always had cars passing us. People were not moving over as much nor were they as good about slowing down as they were in more remote parts of Iceland. When the wind picks up, this becomes a bit scary. 

Yet, I couldn’t stand the idea of busing again. As I was about to answer him, he also showed me the wind forecast for tomorrow. STRONG headwinds for the entire way. I read Matt’s mind when I said I told him that would make the traffic situation even more dangerous. 

I told Matt that I heard his concerns, and I have the same ones, but I would love to finish the trip by bike if we could. So I asked him if, one, we could wake up and decide once we felt the wind and it was confirmed to be as strong as predicted–as well as headwind. And two, if we could at least bike to Selfoss and bus from there, instead of from here, if we were not comfortable with the wind and traffic and chose to bus. We checked the bus schedule out of Selfoss and saw they ran every 30 minutes. Matt said he would be okay with that if we could be biking by 5:00 am to try to beat a lot of the traffic. I reluctantly agreed. 

A solid plan in place, we biked to the campsite, set up camp, showered, and chatted some with Beppe. It was time to say goodbye. He would not be up that early and he would be taking a southern route to Keflavik instead of going to Reykjavik. We truly cherished our time with him and hope to bike with him again one day. We loosely mentioned going to the Swiss and Italian Alps and then down into Italy with him.

We crawled into our sleeping bags to fall asleep. Much to my surprise, I had the hardest time falling asleep. I remember hearing Matt toss and turn as well. I don’t know if it was the anticipation of having to get up so early, knowing that it was our last travel day, or just general insomnia, but the last time I remember checking my phone, it was just past 2:00 am. 

Recapping Day 17: We rode 53.9 miles and tackled 1,760 feet of elevation gain– most of that out of Vik!

Day 18

Waking to that 4:00 am alarm wasn’t easy. Even after finally falling asleep after 2:00, it was one of those nights where I briefly woke up every 20-30 minutes and fell back asleep. I removed my eye mask and looked at Matt, who looked equally tired. He asked how I slept and I told him, and he replied by saying he didn’t sleep much either, though not quite as bad as the night I had. We stared at each other–and the tent for some time. The tent was already flapping from the strong wind, and without thinking I said, “I really don’t want to bike in so much traffic, with this much wind, with being this groggy. I’m afraid I’m not mentally sharp enough.” Matt asked, “Should we just bus from here, then?” I told him that I think so… and that I feel like that would be safest. I asked Matt if he would regret that, and he replied with the same thing he said last night, “No not at all. We biked what we set out to.” 

So, we checked the bus schedule and saw that one bus ran from Hvolsvollur to Reykjavik that day and it left in two and a half hours. Not enough time to go back to sleep, but not so urgent where we had to start packing right then. We spent some time laying around in the tent and began packing slowly. 

On the bus, uncertainty gnawed at me. Did we decide too hastily, driven by sleepy minds? Could we have managed despite the challenges? I looked over at Matt and he seemed to be totally relaxed, scrolling through something without any concern on his face. Once we made it past Selfoss and the highway changed, I paid attention to the road. There was so much traffic and the shoulder was still pretty narrow. I began to feel a bit more resolute in our decision. While I didn’t feel the effects of the wind from the bus, I could certainly see them out the window–the trees were bent in half and the grass was waving wildly. And it wasn’t long before we passed another man and women biking in the same direction we would have been: into the headwind. They could hardly sit up straight on their bikes with the force of the wind. At that moment, I knew we had made the right decision–it just wasn’t safe. I noticed Matt looking at the bikers too and we looked at each other. He raised his eyebrows and had those, “See… I told you so eyes.” 

We got to Reykjavik much earlier than expected, seeing as it would have been a 66 mile bike ride that day. It was only a little after 9:00 am, and we weren’t allowed to check into our AirBnb until 4:00 pm. Seeing as we desperately needed to do laundry, we found a laundry cafe that also offered food. We hadn’t eaten yet and this seemed like the perfect activity to kill some time and relax a bit. We re-packed our bikes and set off on a sunny city ride to the downtown area. 

The laundry cafe was perfect. We got to do laundry while we ate huge breakfasts. I enjoyed a bloody mary or two while Matt opted for mimosas. Once this was done we still had a few hours until 4:00 pm. Matt realized that Chris Burkard’s new studio was right down the street. Both Matt and I are huge fans of Chris Burkard’s work so we were very excited to go check out his studio. We were hopeful we would even get to see him, as we knew he was still in Iceland. To our disappointment, he was not at the studio. The lady who was working there said he might be there in the late afternoon, however. She also confirmed that they were able to ship prints if we wanted to pick some out. So we told her we would come back later, and set off towards the church. While in Reykjavik at the start of our trip, we got some before shots of the trip at the big church near downtown, and planned on getting some after shots as well.

Once this brief trip was complete, we only had three more hours to kill. We spent two and half hours at the Einstok Bar trying various refreshing gin drinks. Matt and I enjoyed talking about a trip, though we were still digesting it, but mostly just enjoyed celebrating our accomplishment! Neither one of us could believe that we were done with something that we had spent so long planning and dreaming about. 

With 30 minutes until 4:00, we decided to head out. At the last minute, we decided to go back to Chris’s studio and grab dinner before going to the AirBnb. We were going to go to the AirBnb first to drop off our things, but we liked the idea of just staying in and crashing once we got there. Much to our disappointment, Chris Burkard was not at his studio. Though looking back this may have been a good thing. What would tipsy Matt and Olivia even have said to him? Squeal and tell him how talented he was? That we make some videos too? 

We picked out which two prints we wanted and asked the woman who helped us earlier if she had any good recommendations for dinner before taking off. She lit up and suggested Anna Jona which was just down the street. It had recently opened and she raved about the vibe and the quality of the food. It turned out to be a perfect suggestion! It was absolutely delicious and the vibe was amazing. Very retro, pink, gold, and other bold colors. Fun furniture and art pieces. The owner opened it with their mom in mind, who had recently passed. It was a very touching story and I remember getting teary eyed as I read the story on the menu. Though, I’m sure sleep deprivation played a part in that. The food was superb and we set off for the mile bike ride to our AirBnb. We checked in and clocked out for the night almost immediately, after a shower of course. I think we were both asleep before 7:00 pm.

Day 19

When we planned this adventure, we wanted to carve out a full day in Reykjavik to just chill, celebrate, and let the thrill of our journey sink in. From a logistical standpoint, it turned out to be a genius move on our part. Remember that saga from day one, when the TSA did a number on our bike boxes? With our boxes destroyed, we needed to find new ones in Reykjavik.

A few days before we arrived in Reykjavik, I emailed a larger bike store: Makid, inquiring about bike boxes. They informed me that they always have bike boxes available and to stop in whenever. Shortly after waking up, Matt and I hopped on a bus bound for Makid, nabbed two bike boxes, and called a cab for the trip back. In the cab we realized we would need more packing tape to pack our boxes. We asked our taxi driver about tape sources in the city and she suggested BYKO hardware store near the old harbor. We expressed our gratitude, took a quick peek at the map, and off we went to BYKO. 

With the tape mission accomplished, our rumbling stomachs could no longer be ignored. We passed a food court with a variety of options on the way here, and settled on that for lunch. The food court also happened to be right next to Chris Burkard’s studio, so we were hopeful to see him there as well, but had no luck again on this front. While we waited for our ramen, Matt reached out to Jakub to see if he would want to link up in the evening. Much to our disappointment, he worked nights and wouldn’t be able to see us before we left. So, with our stomachs full of ramen, we pedaled back to our AirBnb, caught a quick nap, and then geared up for our eagerly anticipated trip to Sky Lagoon.

Sky Lagoon was something we were both looking forward to. It seemed like the perfect antidote for our biking-worn bodies and minds. We decided to splurge on the deluxe "sky for two" package – we got a private shower (a must considering Matt had forgone two communal showers at this point), endless lagoon lounging, a 7-step pampering ritual, a complimentary drink, and a carefully curated snack spread. I should note that there's also the "pure pass for two," which offers a similar experience minus the private shower.

You step into Sky Lagoon, and it's like being cocooned in pure luxury. The 7-step ritual is 100% worth it, it’s such a fun experience! You can start the 7-step ritual whenever you like. Matt and I hung out in the lagoon for about an hour before we started ours, enjoying the view of the ocean and erupting volcano. Once you’re ready, the ritual begins with a refreshing plunge into cold waters – not as daunting as it sounds. You can go in as deep as you like and for as long or short as you like. From there, you step into a sauna with a view. After that, a cool, revitalizing mist awaits, paving the way for a delightful sugar scrub to pamper your skin. Then, with the scrub still on, it's onto the steam room. The final part is a communal shower (swimsuits firmly in place), before you plunge back into the lagoon for as long as you would like. Matt and I savored the moment, soaking in the stunning panorama.

After our lagoon escapade, we strolled back to the locker room, freshened up, and headed to the cafe for our complimentary snack platter. An exploration of traditional Icelandic flavors awaited us – reindeer pate topped with caramelized onions, cured salmon, alongside homemade bread, cheeses, blueberry jam, and a tantalizing Icelandic cake. It's a sampler platter, a medley of tastes that fueled our curiosity. I dug in with gusto, while Matt, a seafood explorer in the making, approached the cured salmon with some caution.

As we returned to our AirBnb, we dismantled our bikes and packed away most of our belongings. The process went quicker than we'd anticipated, so we ventured out for a final dinner in the city. The bartender at the Einstok Bar had suggested Snaps, a charming French bistro downtown. The evening unfolded with culinary delights, and laughter echoed as we recounted the twists and turns of our adventure. With a slight buzz in our step, we headed back to our AirBnb, feeling a sense of fulfillment, albeit tinged with a touch of sadness as we would bid farewell to Reykjavik in the morning.

Side note—it seems that we forgot we brought cameras for the remainder of our trip!

Day 20

As much fun as we were having, we both felt like it was time to go home. The allure of familiarity and reuniting with our cats tugged at our hearts. With our belongings packed, we embarked on a seamless series of transitions that would eventually lead us to Kef Guesthouse. First we would need to take a taxi to the BSI bus terminal, which was only a mile away from our AirBnb. From the BSI bus terminal, we would take a Fly Bus to the Keflavik Airport. Once at the airport we could get a taxi to the Kef Guesthouse. 

Despite our best attempts, we were having quite a bit of trouble getting a taxi from our AirBnb to the BSI terminal. No one was picking up our request in the app. So, Matt called the company, requesting an extra large taxi, or a taxi large enough for two bike boxes and two passengers. Instead, two medium taxis came by, slightly frustrated at us because they knew our items would not fit. To our surprise, they told us to call the company next time. All we could do was look at them apologetically and tell them we had. Third times a charm, though, because we finally obtained a large enough taxi.

Once at the BSI terminal, we had about an hour to kill. Thankfully they had some food as we hadn’t had lunch yet, and were quite hungry. The rest of the transport went smoothly: no issues with the Fly Bus and there were a million taxis of all sizes waiting at the airport for us to choose from. One guy hopped out immediately to help us with our boxes and took us to Kef Guesthouse, just 4 miles from the airport.

The receptionist at Kef Guesthouse was both one of the funniest and kindest people we had met on the trip. As I was checking in, I inquired about their shuttle system to the airport. My main concern was if they would have room for two bike boxes. He rolled his eyes playfully and asked if I had seen how large the van was, and assured me it would be no issue. When Matt asked him where we should go for dinner, he told us the only good place was a local pizza and calzone joint about a mile from the guesthouse. He said he could go for a calzone himself and told us to just come out when we were hungry– he would drive us there for free. 

A few hours later, we were back in the lobby and ready for some calzones with our new friend. We would just order to go so he could be near the airport in case anyone called to get picked up, but we didn’t mind. I was excited as I looked over the menu! They had a lot of veggie loaded options, which I wasn’t expecting, and appreciated after eating on the road for so long. Right after we ordered, our new friend (we never caught his name) asked if we would mind eating at the restaurant instead, and he would pick us up in an hour. He had to run to the airport to pick up some guests. We assured him that we could just walk home, it was only a mile, and I wanted some fresh air after dinner anyway. 

The walk back was easy enough. We rolled our eyes and laughed as we walked into a headwind for the majority of the mile. A little over halfway back, we noticed a small book and travel store. We decided to pop in and see if they had any decent headphones that didn’t break the bank. Somehow, Matt and I both lost our headphones somewhere between the Seattle airport and Keflavik airport. With two long flights and another 12 hour layover in Chicago, we knew we would be desperate for some. We were initially surprised to see they had a headphone section, but were quickly disappointed when we saw that our only two options were cheap headphones with a jack that wouldn’t even work with our iPhones, or $400 Bose headphones. We figured there would be better in between options at the airport, and continued our journey to the guest house. 

The rest of our evening consisted of sleeping, still exhausted from our trip, and trying to fit as much in before our long travel day. 

Day 21

Our flight wasn’t until 4:15 that afternoon, so we were able to have a slow morning. We enjoyed breakfast at the guesthouse, our last shower before we got home, and some general downtime. We enjoyed not feeling rushed. Unluckily, however, the latest we could check out of the guesthouse was 11:30. This forced us to arrive at the airport quite early, but not the worst thing by any means. 

Our airport process was incredibly easy. This is just an assumption I have about Keflavik and I very easily could be wrong, but I believe all of the arrivals are in the morning and then the departures in the afternoon. Because of this and the time we arrived, we were caught in this inbetween time. There were no lines at the tax refund counter or the currency exchange counter. The check in counter wasn’t open yet either, so we thought we would have to wait a bit to check our bikes, but then I remembered I already paid for bags on the Icelandair website. So, I went to the self check-in kiosk and printed our boarding pass and baggage tickets. There were staff at the oversized bag drop off, so we brought our ticketed boxes over there and they checked them in no problem. Since we had no other bags to check, we were then free to walk through an empty security and customs line and back into our terminal.

One of the first stores we saw just so happened to be an electronics store, and lucky for us, they had plenty of headphones to choose from. With a new pair of headphones each, we made our way back to our gate. We picked up some snacks along the way and found a cozy spot to wait until our gate was assigned. Luckily for us, the rest of our trip home went without a hitch. Everything was on time and we got some, albeit not enough, sleep over our 12 hour overnight layover in Chicago. 

Before we knew it, my grandma was picking us up at the Seattle airport. On our way home it felt strange to be riding through our familiar city. We couldn’t believe we had accomplished our trip and that it was officially over. Reality came much too soon, especially seeing that we both returned to work the following day. We made it our home around 10:30 am, cuddled our cats, and slept for most of the day. 

Final Thoughts

The question that we were asked most from friends and family upon returning home was, “Would you do the trip again, knowing everything you know now?” 

Undoubtedly, this voyage was challenging—both physically and mentally. The unpredictable Icelandic weather threw formidable obstacles our way, testing our resolve and demanding unwavering determination. The gusty headwinds and relentless rain reminded us that the road to our goals could be an arduous one. Yet, as we pushed against the elements, we discovered an unparalleled sense of achievement. Those moments of struggle, now etched in our memories, stand as testaments to our endurance and tenacity.

And, within the folds of those challenges lies an adventure that has indelibly marked our lives. In the midst of the challenges, we were gifted an unparalleled sense of freedom – the kind that rekindles the childlike wonder within us. We pedaled through vast expanses of untamed wilderness, rekindling a connection with nature that had been buried beneath the routines of everyday life. The luxury of time allowed us to immerse ourselves in the surroundings, exploring hidden corners and pausing to breathe in the untainted air.

The journey wasn't just about conquering miles; it was about rediscovering the world through unfiltered eyes, marveling at the smallest details and embracing the grandeur of the landscapes that stretched before us. The hours on the saddle melded into days, as we traversed rugged terrains, ascended breathtaking peaks, and descended with exhilaration into valleys below. We weren't merely tourists passing through; we became integral parts of the ever-shifting landscape, attuned to its rhythms and fluctuations.

As the days unfolded and challenges were met head-on, we found ourselves transformed. The hardships weren't setbacks; they were stepping stones that elevated our spirits and emboldened our resolve. The freedom to chart our own course, the privilege to linger in a place until it felt like home, and the simple joy of being unburdened by the demands of modern life – all of these elements coalesced into a tapestry of experiences that left us deeply fulfilled.

Yes, the trip was grueling. Yes, we faced the unforgiving elements. Yes, planning and preparation were intricate puzzles to solve. But the echoes of laughter that mingled with the howling wind, the serenity found in the most desolate landscapes, and the heart-swelling gratitude for the chance to undertake this journey together have far outweighed any temporary discomfort.

And so, would we do it again? Absolutely. This trip has reminded us of the power of resilience, the beauty of embracing the unpredictable, and the sheer delight of being unencumbered explorers in a vast and awe-inspiring world. As we navigate the currents of everyday life, we carry with us the windswept memories of Iceland, where every challenge was a chance for growth, and every pedal stroke brought us closer to our own essence.