Day 8 – Reykjahlíð to Vopnafjörður via the Melrakkaslétta peninsula, 66°27′ north! – 190 miles
My journal notes begin today with “What day is this? Oh…”
It’s cloudy, 43°, cooler winds out of the northwest at about 11, and the forecast for where we’re heading looks sunny for the next three days!
We’re in no rush to break camp with that forecast, hoping the sun peeks out early enough to dry the gear before packing up. I find myself wanting to repack anyway after two days in one place and switching over to heavier clothing for the cold in camp off the bike. It’s good to reorganize and separate the dirty stuff. It’s not a long ride and we have nearly 17 hours of daylight this time of year so close to the Arctic Circle.
We decide as planned to ride the east side of Dettifoss to the northeast coast and the beginning of the East Fjords. 864 stays a three-digit road without the F prefix, unlike the west side, so figure the road will remain good. It’s 115km or so of gravel. If it proves too much for Steve’s road tires, we’ll pivot and make for the Ring Road instead. Direct it’s about 90mi, via the north loop, closer to 200mi.
While breaking camp, collectively and without dissention we quickly decide for an AirBnB tonight. We need a night out of the wind & cold and an opportunity to dry the tents. Warren easily finds a small cottage on a farm just outside of Vopnafjörður. Indoor plumbing and warm rooms tonight! And a chance to chill that bottle of Brennivin we’ve been carrying since the duty free. ☺
It’s a lonesome road today. The landscape mirrors our reflective mood after more than a week on the road. I like this, we’re settling into the travelling and finding our groove. The first few days are always full of excitement, anticipation of the journey to come, being wide-eyed at the new sites. About day three the doldrums can set in for the next day or two. You’re tired, the newness has worn off a bit, but you’ve not yet found your zone. Starting at about a week in things really settle and flow.
It’s a long haul across gravel on 864 but not as deep or gnarly as 87 yesterday. It’s very pot-holed and rutted with some thin, slick mud sections. Steve’s bike was OK on street tires but I credit rider.
The road is desolate now across the north, no horses or sheep, and very few farms. It seems odd because aside from the lava fields east of Dettifoss the landscape is mostly vegetated. It’s very windy, the bikes again hard slanted against it, first one way then the other. Even on higher heat settings, the gear is having a hard time keeping up with the wind chill and my face got cold.
This was a bigger problem for Steve. His bike blew its heated gear outlet fuse 10 miles into the ride, so he rode the entire gravel section up the west side of Dettifoss without heat and was practically frozen. Should he stand up to stabilize the bike in gravel and freeze or remain seated to try to stay warm and risk dumping the bike? We stopped as the gravel intersected 85 again by the Ásbyrgi canyon so he could replace the fuse – who puts a 5a fuse on a heated circuit? We made for a gas station for fuel-up and lunch to warm up indoors.
This is a beautiful country. There were almost no cars, we saw maybe a dozen the entire day, and passed a couple on the gravel at 70mph. The bike is awesome.
I had one minor repair for the day. The rough road early on jostled my phone charger loose from its Powerlet port. While jamming it back during riding I bent the central positive pins closed. No charging. ☹ At the cottage that night, I pulled the fuse for the port and used a small screwdriver to bend the pins back to position. I really should replace that port with a USB and eliminate the junction. No sense having an additional unnecessary mechanical connection to fail.
The ride was in the 40s today with 20-30mph winds as noted. Despite the optimistic forecast from the morning, we didn’t see sun until arriving in Vopnafjörður at the cottage overlooking the fjord.
At the cottage we’re met by a woman and what appears to be her young daughter who’s maybe eight or nine. The woman seems unconfident in her English so her daughter speaks for her and translates. It was terribly cute and we leverage her to correct our pronunciation of Icelandic place names, which she seems to relish and giggles when doing so.
We dried the tents in the warm cottage and ate at a local restaurant as the markets were closed for the day (we forgot it was Saturday; they close earlier on weekend days). We sipped cold Brennivin while watching the beautiful half moon rise over the narrow land-end of the fjord.
