Day 39: Aug 3, 2011

We spent the day exploring the peaceful town of Isafjordur and took an afternoon boat trip to Vigor Island. It felt like luxury not to cycle for hours in the cold rain! In fact, it was sunny and warm for much of the day, and seemed almost like a different season from yesterday.

The Vigor trip was today's highlight, an island bustling with puffins, arctic terns and Eider ducks. Saya called it "busy town." A single human family has lived on the island since the 1800's, with the fourth generation still in residence. The island boasts Iceland's only windmill and the country's smallest post office. But I was most interested in its natural wonders: astonishing views of the surrounding ocean and mountains, and many hundreds of nesting birds. In the distance, Iceland's northernmost glacier loomed under clouds beyond sharp cliffs cut by powerful waterfalls dropping hundreds of meters and crashing into the sea. The country's only glacier that is not in full retreat from warming temperatures, I longed to travel to the Hornstrandir peninsula to experience it up close. But that will have to wait for another day when I am not with my children.

As we hiked around Vigor, cute bumbling puffins flapped their wings frantically to keep their pudgy bodies airborne and sometimes crashed hilariously into the water. One posed for us, perched on a cliff's edge looking out over the water, small fish hanging from its distinctive orange and black beak. Sho carefully approached the bird to get a picture, patiently working to get close enough for a good shot. I loved seeing his concentration and joy in appreciating the lovely creature.

The arctic terns aggressively protected their eggs and chicks, and swooped overhead making assertive clicking squawks whenever we ventured too close. I don't speak their language, but recognize profanity when I hear it. Eiko, Arisa, Sho, Saya and I each carried a stick with a small blue flag and waved it overhead to give the birds something other than our heads to attack. Sometimes, Sho dove to the ground or crouched low clutching my legs to avoid an attack, laughing but wary. As president of the Arctic Tern Fan Club, I was in heaven, snapping pictures of the glorious birds' aerial stunts. I captured some good close-ups and apologized to the animals for making them waste energy on me to protect their young. They'll need all their reserves for their upcoming migrations over tens of thousands of miles.

At the end of the afternoon, I took Sho and Saya to the local pool, where Sho worked on his dive and Saya perfected her belly flop. She doesn't like to admit when she's hurt, and when I heard her say "Ow!", I asked if she was o.k. She chose to lie to my face and responded, "I didn't say 'ow'. I said 'cow.'". Yeah, right. Hubris starts young, I guess. She can also be creative in her compliments. After watching Sho do an impressive jump, she said, "Sho, you're a great sportster!".

Here are some pics:

Saya on the boat ride to Vigor:






Sho and I on the boat:



Puffin on Vigor:



Arctic terns:


View from the hike:



Arisa with flag to protect her from bird attacks:


Arctic tern shots:










Saya feeding the Eiders:



Arisa taking a break:


Eiko and Saya:




Sho and Saya:


Saya on the beach:


- An Iceland Bike Adventure post

Day 38: August 2, 2011

After waking up and emerging from our in tents in their back yard, the Hvitanes family treated us to a tour of Litlibaer, a home less than a kilometer away and one of Iceland's collection of historic buildings. Kristjan, Elis's grandfather, grew up there, but it is now a stop for tourists interested in seeing a traditional Icelandic home built in the 1800's. The door frame and ceilings were low, and the roof of the small wooden structure was covered with a thick layer of grass to keep out the wind. Old black and white photographs of Kristjan's ancestors adorned the walls, and glass covered displays held old farm tools. Elis told us that, at one time, twenty people from two families lived in the five-room, two-story home. It must have been challenging, especially during the long dark winter months.

After thanking our hosts for their generous hospitality, we set off on the 74-kilometer (46 mile) ride to Isafjordur. We struggled in tough conditions for the first five hours, a steady rain and strong icy winds blowing from the north across the forbidding sea. The views were stunning, but none of us appreciated them much, focusing instead on just getting through the ride.

At 5 pm, we rolled to a stop, dripping, cold and hungry, in front of a restaurant in Suedavik, a town 20 km (12 miles) away from Isafjordur. We had skipped lunch, because it was so uncomfortable to linger in the biting rain, and relished the chance to warm up and fill our bellies. The rain stopped while we were eating, and as we rolled out to cycle the final 20 km, I finally started to appreciate the incredible ocean vistas as we snaked along a narrow winding road by the sea. Isafjordur is settled on a spit of land that juts out into Skutulsfjordur Fjord, surrounded by stunning cliffs, snow-draped mountains and deep dark waters. I marveled at the natural beauty as we cycled into town.

Our new friend, Elis, and his mother, drove into town to meet us, and we chatted in a cafe. Elis, age 14, was particularly sweet to Saya, who asked when he is going to visit us in NYC. Eiko and I told him that he is welcome to stay with us. It would be nice to return the hospitality his family showed us.

We'll spend a couple of days in Isafjordur, then say goodbye to Arisa, who is returning to Japan. I was impressed by her resilience and good humor over the past week, as she endured some seriously challenging rides. Arisa, you have earned the right to call yourself an adventure cyclist!

Here are some pics from today:

Sho, Eiko and Arisa bundled up:




View from the road:






Eiko staying hydrated:






Cool tunnel near Isafjordur:


Isafjordur from the other side of the fjord:


Mountain view from Isafjordur:


Skutulsfjordur Fjord:


Eiko and Arisa:


Sho and Saya with Elis in cafe:


With Elis and his mom:


- An Iceland Bike Adventure post

Day 37: Aug 1, 2011

We rode around 65 km today from Reykjanes to the tip of a peninsula between Skotufjordur and Hestfjordur fjords. After yesterday's exhausting ride, we decided to have a leisurely morning before starting off. We swam in the heated pool next to the hostel, enjoying the gorgeous view of a deep blue ocean and broad sky full of massive white clouds. The wind god continued his temper tantrum from yesterday, whipping up white-tipped rippling waves across the water, and I knew it would be another challenging ride.

Once we got under way, the cross winds were too dangerous for cycling, and we walked our bikes for the first hour. When the road curved toward a mountain, the winds became our ally, and we finally started riding with strong gusts shoving us up the long climb from behind. After that, much of the route took us along the coast, and we enjoyed the sounds of waves crashing over empty rocky beaches. Ten kilometers across the sea we saw massive wild waterfalls pouring over the craggy cliffs of Snaefjallastrond. Beyond that lay the northern wilds of Hornstrandir Peninsula, a well-known destination for adventurer hikers. We were chilled by a cold north wind until we turned into the protected fjord, where jelly fish floated languidly beside groups of ducks, swans and an occasional curious seal.

At 9 pm, we decided to set up our tent on the tip of a peninsula marked Hvitanes on our map, about half way between Reykjanes and Isafjordur. As we searched for a suitable place to camp, we came across a man parked in his car in front of a lone farm house. I asked him if we could set up our tent nearby, but he could not speak English. He motioned for me to wait and fetched his almost 15-year old grandson, Elis, to translate. The family was wonderful, inviting us to set up our tents in their back yard and use their kitchen. Saya watched "Sleeping Beauty" with their 6-year old grand daughter and made herself completely at home, while Eiko, Sho, Arisa and I set up the tents. The grandfather Kristjan grew up a kilometer away, on a farm that is now the historic site of Litlibaer. He promised to take us there for a tour in the morning.

We fell asleep in our tent, gently jostled by the wind, and grateful for the kindness of strangers.

Here are some pics:
Pool at Reykjanes:



Hostel where we slept. It used to be a school, and Elis's grandmother was a student here:



Wind-ripped waves as we left Reykjanes:



Walking bikes along the water:


View from top of hill we climbed:


Fluffy white flowers prevalent in the hills of the west fjords:






Fjord view:


Our sleeping spot:




Arisa and Elis:


With Kristjan and Sigridur's wonderful family:


Sho and Saya reading in the tent before bed:


- An Iceland Bike Adventure post

Day 36: July 31, 2011

Note to my mom: there's no need for you to read all of today's blog. It's just the same old stuff. We cycled, saw some beautiful animals and scenery and fell asleep happy and healthy. You probably have a lot of errands to run and things to do, so why don't you just stop reading here?

We set an ambitious task for ourselves today, planning to ride 90 km (56 miles) from Holmavik to Reykjanes, a small outpost at the tip of an isthmus jutting out between Reykjarfjordur and Isafjordur fjords. We stocked up on supplies at the grocery store in Holmavik, knowing that we would need to supply most of our meals over the next two and a half days.

The wind and terrain have a material impact on how far you can travel when long-distance cycling, so setting ambitious distance goals is risky. I knew we had a long, steep climb early in today's ride, but otherwise the route was gently rolling with some nice flat sections. As we prepared to leave Holmavik, it was cool, but sunny with a light breeze - not bad cycling weather. I asked a local if she had seen the weather forecast. "It looks pretty good, but you may get some rain and a little wind."

The wind seemed to intensify as soon as we started riding. It was a steady headwind that made us all work to maintain a slow pace. Rippling waves rolled across any body of water we passed. Our muscles were well warmed up by the time we reached the foot of the mountain two hours after starting. It was a challenging climb (see pic) that took over an hour. I took a picture of Arisa celebrating at the top. We ate lunch huddled beside the road, partially protected from the wind and marveled at it's increasing intensity.

Snow drifts and shallow glistening ponds dotted the top of the mountain, which stretched out like a broad mesa. I was looking forward to the downhill reward after working so hard to climb up, but instead we trudged at 3 MPH across the flat expanse, heads bent against the roaring gusts. My lower back ached with the effort.

When the road finally began to descend, the wind changed from annoying to dangerous, coming at us from the side in blasts that threatened to blow us off the road. I was careful to ride slowly and in control, but despite my efforts, a sudden powerful gust caught me by surprise and shoved Sho, Saya and me across the road toward a rocky slope. I was lucky that a car wasn't coming the other direction. I pressed the breaks and leaned back into the wind and almost recovered, but was not able to keep the bicycles on the road. We slipped over the edge, and I lurched over the top of my bike, slamming my knee and rolling over the rocks. I glanced back to see Sho tumbling over and over down the slope and watched in horror as Saya's bike trailer dipped and rolled a full 360 degrees, coming to a stop on its side. I jumped up and ran to Sho, who had come to a stop on his back around ten meters (30 feet) down the slope, and lay crying. I told him to stay still and ran up the slope to free Saya from the trailer. She was crying desperately but unhurt, thanks to her seatbelt and the sleeping bags and other gear cushioning her. Eiko and Arisa had been riding behind us and jumped off their bikes to help. Sho had some bruises on his back, but was otherwise ok. My bike's handlebars were askew, but I couldn't find any other damage. We had slowed enough before falling to keep from getting seriously hurt. I shook my head, disappointed in my poor judgment, but thankful that we were all ok. We were lucky.

Within a few minutes, we had the bikes back on the road, and Sho was cracking jokes about how crazy the "crazy accident." We walked beside the bikes for the next hour, struggling to keep them upright in the gale. When we reached the fjord, we turned out of the wind and began riding again. We were rewarded with some incredible nature scenes. Large groups of white swans drifted peacefully over the dark glistening water. Several seals popped their heads out of the water to spy on us. A lone dolphin glided gracefully up the middle of the fjord.

As we finally rolled into Reykjanes at 10 pm, eleven hours after leaving Holmavik, I felt a complex mix of exhaustion, relief, triumph and humility.

Here are some pics:
Data on the mountain we cycled over:










Can you spot Eiko and Arisa cycling up the mountain?



Arisa celebrating at the top:



Our mountain top lunch spot:








Scene of the crash:



Isafjordur fjord:









- An Iceland Bike Adventure post