Iceland by gravel bike: A great adventure in the rugged Westfjords
Text: Oliver Andorfer
Iceland by gravel bike
It feels like the tenth stream that gets in our way. To describe it as ankle-deep - or even as a welcome change - would be euphemistic. It would be better described as cold as hell and knee-high. We were still able to ride through the first streams with speed and skill, but this one is obviously too wide and too deep for that. Around 25 kilograms, bike and luggage, have to be carried to the other bank in a balancing act.
We know that today is going to be the queen's stage, but the past five hours, with winds peaking at almost a hundred kilometres an hour across the Dynjandisheiði plateau, pull the plug on us - even the chocolate-covered marshmallows as an energy bar substitute don't help. Anna tries to ride her bike on the plateau despite all the objections, but struggles to stay on the road at all in the squalls - and it is six metres wide after all.
The loose gravel on the track, which slopes slightly to the left, doesn't necessarily make it any easier for her to push against the wind. The rest of us prefer to push the bike for a while anyway; this way we make progress just as quickly as in the saddle. With our gravel bikes, including saddle, frame and handlebar bags, we offer so much surface area for the Icelandic summer breeze on the treeless plateau that we could turn the bikes into sailing boats.
Lael Wilkox as inspiration
It's actually surprising that nobody in Iceland has come up with the idea of wind-gravelling yet. It was our penultimate of a total of eight days in the Westfjords. When we set off from the fishing village of Bíldudalur in the morning, we didn't expect that this stage would demand everything from us, but also, perhaps precisely for this reason, that we would never forget it - and certainly not many months ago, when the idea for this trip germinated in me ...
When I discovered the photos of the Iceland tour by bikepacking and ultracycling legend Lael Wilcox, I immediately wanted to discover the island by bike. As a cycling enthusiast and bikepacking fan, the incredible beauty of the landscape and the challenge of the rugged, deserted natural environment left me wanting more. And the spark of my enthusiasm was ignited and I quickly found three fellow cyclists: Tomaz Druml, former Nordic combined athlete for the Austrian Ski Association, a videographer who is at home on a mountain bike, road bike and gravel bike. Plus outdoor and sports photographer Moritz Klee and Anna Holzer, both from Tyrol, so at home in the mountains, but novices when it comes to bikepacking. Plus Max Hofstätter, Styrian, photographer, owner of an endurance magazine, whose cycling experience ranges from enduro bikes to racing bikes and spans the whole world.
Iceland - no supermarket or restaurant for miles around
We take a direct flight to Reykjavík, Iceland's capital, from where we fly on the next day to our starting point in Ísafjörður, the economic and administrative centre of the Westfjords, which characterise the north-westernmost tip of Iceland. There we are warmly welcomed by Dóra and Tyler from Cycling Westfjords, a coalition of cyclists who want to promote bikepacking. The two are the originators of our route and have helped us with the planning and organisation.
The next morning, we pedal along the waters of Skutulsfjörður, mightily impressed by the steep mountains that flank the fjord. Almost 140 kilometres lie ahead of us today, on the finest asphalt and along five fjords. Dóra's tip to stop for a waffle on the way still resonates with us. There are no other places to buy food on this stage: no supermarket, no petrol station, no restaurant.
Only this little hut, called Litlibær, with the best waffles you could get for miles around. Just before Litlibær, I think I can already smell the waffles, Tomaz shouts out as he spots a fountain in the fjord: "Whales, over there, those are whales!" Sure enough, a herd of humpback whales with juveniles is diving up and down. We completely lose track of time as we spend an hour and a half trying to get the perfect video.
Well-deserved canned beer
At some point, however, we get hungry and head to the nearby Litlibær hut. Waffles, homemade jam, whipped cream and a pot of coffee. We are already in love with Iceland. Fjords, whales, waffles: there's no better way to start the day. The first accommodation is located by a hot spring, a hole in the ground with 40-degree water. We climb in and enjoy a well-earned can of beer - cold, of course!
The landscape, which amazed us so much at first, becomes more normal for us from day to day. But it remains breathtaking, the sparse vegetation, the endless expanse. Sometimes we have the feeling that we are the only people on the island. The landscape alternates between gentle, lush meadows, striking table mountains with waterfalls cascading down from them and rugged, steep cliffs that end in narrow gorges. Civilisation? No civilisation. With a "Hey, listen! There's nothing there. Just nothing - unbelievable!" Max interrupts the silence around us.
The surface on our route changes as quickly as the weather. From tarmac, it suddenly turns to gravel, often on very rough terrain, which makes the descents with heavily laden gravel bikes a particular challenge. Speaking of the weather: the weather god Thor is merciful to us in the first few days, spoiling us with sunshine and not smashing any storms at us with his axe. It's early September, temperatures fluctuate between seven degrees in the morning and 16 to a maximum of 20 degrees at midday. And the wind blows the clouds in front of the sun every minute.
Iceland by gravel bike - Caribbean moments
The day after next, Iceland shows us its darker side. The weather is as harsh as the landscape and continues to deteriorate. On the fifth day, it poured with rain. We try to keep dry with rain jackets, long rain trousers and waterproof gloves and overshoes, but sooner or later we are all more or less soaked. And the wind is blowing directly in our faces. But "wind" is far too harmless a word. "Storm" is a better word. In places we have to push the bike because riding is out of the question. Hiding behind a tree? No one is there. Wind edge at walking pace and even slower? Not a chance. If it's still possible: keep your head down and pedal - or at least try.
It's not just the wind that makes us crawl like snails, the stream crossings also slow us down. On the seventh day, the knee-deep creek described at the beginning of the tour gets in our way. We already know the procedure: socks and shoes off, bikes on our shoulders, looking for a suitable spot to wade through the almost ten-degree water. Ah, how the calf muscle contracts wonderfully in its fascia to hide from the cold shock, but then relaxes just before the cramp because you switch to the other leg with rope-dancing grace.
But it wouldn't be Iceland if the island didn't surprise us again and again. "Guys, look ahead, how beautiful it is!" Anna calls out, pointing ahead like a sailor in the lookout spotting land. A beautiful beach appears out of nowhere. Barðastrandarsandur is a fine, light-coloured sandy beach several kilometres long, which, with its light blue sea, is more reminiscent of the Caribbean than an island in Greenland.
Tractor track right by the sea
While there was hardly a minute in the past few days when one of us didn't have something to say, we all remain speechless here. We sit silently on the beach for many minutes until I break the silence: "I think this is the best gravel day of my life. But it doesn't help - we have to keep going!"
The next day we drive along what we would call in Austria a tractor track right by the sea. On the right, the Icelandic mixture of grasses and rugged volcanic rocks. To the left, a fjord almost two kilometres wide and a view of the typical Westfjords mesas carved by the ice-age glaciers. And the most scenic section of the day, perhaps of the whole journey, is yet to come. We've been talking about it for days. Its name: Kjaransbraut Road.
More than 30 years ago, this section, which was to be cut into a rock face almost 150 metres high, was finally labelled "Mission Impossible" by the Icelandic road construction authorities. The construction workers were instructed to abandon the project. Then Elís Kjaran Friðfinnsson, who lived on a nearby farm, came along and dug the road into the rock on his own with his small bulldozer. But the Icelandic bulldozer driver certainly wasn't thinking of people like us - with gravel bikes you soon reach your limits.
Dream day on the gravel bike
At the latest at the point where it goes under a rock face over the narrow sandy beach, which you can only pass when the tide recedes and hits the rocks at high tide. Dóra from Cycling Westfjords had given us the exact times of high and low tide, but even without high tide, stones the size of a handball, polished round by the sea, make cycling impossible. We have to carry the bikes five metres next to the surf and directly under the rock face, from which the water is constantly dripping onto our heads. The sun is slowly leaning towards the horizon. Another dream day on the gravel bike, I think. And it's not over yet ...
After a long day and an extensive dinner, it's about half past ten and everyone is tired. I yawn as my phone rings. It's Moritz, who has ducked outside. "Erm ... I'd like to come outside for a moment, friends - Northern Lights!" he says excitedly. Moritz had already checked the northern lights forecast days before using an app. Until now: in vain. Until now! So he puts on his long trousers, pulls on his fleece jacket, pulls out his camera - and goes out!
What we see there exceeds all expectations: a three-hour laser show with green lights that occasionally change to purple and dance across the sky. They disappear in one place only to reappear in another. We lie next to each other on the beach at Þingeyri, silent and reverent, our cameras set to long exposure.
Iceland by gravel bike - the beginning and end of the adventure
Our eighth and final day. We have time, only about 50 kilometres and around a thousand metres in altitude to cover today. One last time in our cycling gear, one last time with our panniers strapped to the bike. The first tarmac kilometres around the narrow Dýrafjörður, surrounded by barren mountains, are perfect for rolling in. It's cool and cloudy, with wafts of mist almost hanging in our faces. In the village of Flateyri, we stop for a coffee break, including waffles with whipped cream, to top up our carbohydrates.
North of the small village, the 660 metre high Eyrarfjall towers over the fjord. We have to cross its eastern flank, at an altitude of 610 metres, over a pass called Breiðadalsheiði. Since a tunnel was driven through the mountain for motorised traffic, the old pass road has been closed to traffic. So the gravel road is all ours today. Which gravel road? We can barely recognise a path and are forced to follow the GPS track. Loose gravel and stones, between the size of a tennis ball and a medicine ball, demand driving skills. And because the wind has died down and the sun is shining, sweat is pouring down our foreheads - for the first time in eight days.
I look back and see the fjord glistening far below. But I have to concentrate on the path, next to which the grass feels much greener than at home and where a small stream, which we are just passing, bubbles out of the lava rock. It's as if Iceland wants to show us its most beautiful side once again. Which also makes me a little sad, because we will soon reach Ísafjörður, where our adventure began and will end.
After a three-hour ascent, we cross a small snowfield at the top of the pass and see the village down by the fjord. We hug each other. The efforts of the past few days are blown away by the storm. All that now separates us from our destination is 600 metres in altitude on a seven-kilometre descent over loose, sharp-edged gravel. Afterwards, in Ísafjörður, we sit with relaxed faces and broad grins, satisfied and grateful by the sea, which occasionally laps gently at our feet.
Information: Exploring Iceland by gravel bike
Journey
Direct flights with Lufthansa, for example from Frankfurt am Main, to Reykjavík (3.5 hours) cost from 400 euros return, plus 100 euros for bike transport. If you want to fly with Icelandair from Reykjavík to the starting point of the tour, Ísafjörður, which is around 450 kilometres north by road, in 45 minutes, the flight and bike cost from 350 euros; two flights a day,
Info under: www.icelandair.de.
In principle, it is possible to travel on to Ísafjörður by bus (if there is space, buses also take bicycles), but as there are no direct connections, some planning is required; these sites will help: straeto.is/en and www.publictransport.is
Best time to travel
The best time is June, July and August; we were travelling from the end of August to the beginning of September. With an average of between 10 and 15 degrees, the Icelandic summer is best compared to our autumn.
Equipment & tips
Our gravel bikes with 1 x 13 gears (38 chainring, 10-44 sprocket set) are fitted with 44 millimetre wide tyres. The luggage is divided between saddle bag (16 litres), handlebar bag (2.5 litres), frame bag (3.5 litres) and top tube bag (0.8 litres). Iceland's gravel roads are extremely jarring - additional handlebar tape and/or foam pads absorb shocks and take the strain off your wrists.
What comes with you?
Complete rainwear is a must in Iceland! It can rain at any time. Pack tools, several spare inner tubes and a large first aid kit! In sparsely populated Iceland you are on your own, so you need to be prepared for bike breakdowns and accidents. Whilst water is plentiful, you should plan enough storage space for food. Supermarkets and petrol stations are in short supply. However, if you do find something to buy, you can pay cashless - everywhere and everything. You need a solid basic level of fitness for the tour. Iceland's changeable weather, the sometimes rough gravel and the wind make the stages much tougher than the route data alone would suggest.
Costs
On average, the cost of living in Iceland is around 20 to 30 per cent higher than in Germany. Our accommodation booked via Cycling Westfjords cost an average of 270 euros per night for five people including breakfast at the end of the season. For dinner you have to budget another 20 to 35 euros per person. Guesthouses and hotels are as simple on the outside as the landscape, but comfortable on the inside. If you want to save money, you'll need to bring a tent and sleeping bag - camping in the great outdoors is permitted as long as you respect the environment, and there are also a few campsites along the route.
Information about cycling and bikepacking in the Westfjords
www.cyclingwestfjords.com
Cycling Westfjords is a coalition of cyclists who want to promote bikepacking. They organise self-guided and guided tours for all levels of adventure. For the past two years, they have also been organising the "Arna Westfjords Way Challenge", a stage race around the Westfjords that takes place in June.
For orientation!
Iceland, an island nation in the far north-west of Europe, south-east of Greenland, is around 20 per cent larger than Austria. However, only 366,000 people live there; in terms of standard of living and per capita income, Iceland is one of the leading countries in the world. The island is located on the Mid-Atlantic Ridge, where the North American and Eurasian plates are drifting apart, resulting in volcanism that is still active today.
Our eight-day tour leads across the peninsula in the north-western part of Iceland, Vestfirðir (Westfjords), which is heavily indented by fjords and only connected to the rest of the island by a narrow neck of land. The Westfjords account for around 30 per cent of the coastline of the whole of Iceland, and many kilometres of our tour also run along fjords. The region is very sparsely populated (0.78 inhabitants per square kilometre), there are hardly any larger villages, perhaps the occasional farm; many roads are gravel tracks. The start and finish of our round trip, Ísafjörður, is around 450 kilometres by road north of the capital Reykjavík.
Tours: Eight days graveling in Iceland's Westfjords
Day 1
Ísafjörður - Hotel Heydalur | 137 kilometres | 800 vertical metres
Rolling in on fine tarmac along the Icelandic fjords - the first day is a perfect start to familiarise yourself with the country, characterised by gentle climbs and constant views of the sea. With a bit of luck, you might even spot a humpback whale or two. A must: the waffles in the café at the small Litlibær farm (km 73).
Day 2
Hotel Heydalur - Hótel Laugarhóll | 96 kilometres | 1230 vertical metres
Gravel, here we go! Not only does the first stream have to be crossed after just under 500 metres, but the first climbs and descents on partly bouldery and sharp-edged ground also follow. After 40 kilometres, we leave the fjords to climb over a plain more than 400 metres above sea level. The reward is a dip in a 40-degree hot spring at the day's destination in Laugarhóll.
Day 3
Hótel Laugarhóll - Laugar (Dalahótel) | 89 kilometres | 1070 vertical metres
The day is characterised by a lot of asphalt and the first long climb of almost 380 metres to Pröskuldar (369 m). If the wind comes from the wrong side, the last metres to Svínadalur (220 m) and the descent to Laugar are also a challenge. As on the previous day, the hard muscles are loosened again at the finish in a hot spring, the most beautiful of the entire trip.
Day 4
Laugar (Dalahótel) - Mýrartunga (guesthouse) | 122 kilometres | 1100 vertical metres
For us, this is one of the most beautiful gravel routes in the world: the sea on the left, the typical Icelandic table mountains on the right. The day has no long climbs, but the constant ups and downs add up to 1100 metres in altitude. A day we will never forget.
Day 5
Mýrartunga (guesthouse) - Hótel Flókalundur | 125 kilometres | 1640 vertical metres
Back in "civilisation": the surface is a mixture of asphalt and gravel. Two climbs await today, each with an elevation gain of just under 350 metres - the second leads a little away from the sea into the countryside, but again you have a view of the sea all day long. And a must: in Flókalundur there is a hot spring right on the beach where you can relax.
Day 6
Hotel Flókalundur - Bíldudalur | 88 kilometres | 1640 vertical metres
Just when you think it couldn't get any more beautiful, along comes this sandy beach. With a name: Barðastrandarsandur. A kilometre-long beach that invites you to take a break right behind a thundering waterfall after around 25 kilometres. After that, the going gets tough: three ascents climb between 350 and almost 500 metres above the fjords; these three alone add up to around 1300 metres in altitude. Culinary tip at the destination: The salmon steak at "Vegamót Bíldudal" (www.facebook.com/Vegamotbildudal), including the restaurant's somewhat quirky chef, is an experience.
Day 7
Bíldudalur - Þingeyri | 131 kilometres | 1800 vertical metres
The royal stage! 131 kilometres, with everything from asphalt to stretches of road. After 27 flat kilometres, the road turns into the mountains, climbs and descends twice to an altitude of almost 500 metres and gains around 800 metres in altitude. At the other end, down by the fjord, the Dynjandi waterfall (or Fjallfoss) rushes a hundred metres down into the valley, one of the largest waterfalls on the island. The final 50 kilometres by the water, especially the gravelled Kjaransbraut road, built under cliffs and in rocks, burn this day deeply into your memory. I promise!
Day 8
Þingeyri - Ísafjörður | 54 kilometres | 1050 vertical metres
The initially easy roll home towards our starting point of Ísafjörður is sweetened after 35 kilometres with waffles and coffee in Flateyri. The refreshment is necessary, because then the 610 metre high gravel pass Breiðadalsheiði awaits. Then, at the end of the only snowfield on the tour, we catch sight of our destination deep down by the fjord: Ísafjörður. Now it's all downhill ...
