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1,050 miles of trail riding through the heart of Iceland - south to north, north to south and west to east - on a Yamaha XT225 Serow. It was ... SERIOUSLY COOL (Written 2000)
So why isn't it throbbing with British riders every summer? Search me, chief, because with a bit of nifty organisation, it is as easy to get to as Spain. Problem one is that there are no bikes for hire in Iceland
(or none I could find). Problem two is that if you want to go with your bike by
ferry, it will take you upwards of a week there and back from Aberdeen, with a
two day stopover in the Faroe Islands. The answer is blindingly simple: send your bike as freight
to Reykjavik, then fly out and pick it up. You don't even have to crate it. Just
deliver it to a terminal at Immingham and they wheel it into a container. Easy
peasy. I have been dreaming of riding Iceland since the first time
I saw a map of it. Just a single ring-road winding 800 miles, with a couple of
dotted lines indicating trails right through the middle. If you want to get away from it all, this is the place: a
land mass 20% bigger than Scotland, with a total population of 270,000. That's
less than Nottingham, and with around half of Icelanders living in the Reykjavik
area, the rest of the country is often frighteningly wild and remote. Frightening? Damned right. Break a leg in the Icelandic
highlands and it is not a matter of crawling to the nearest farmhouse for help.
There aren't any. Even in the height of summer, it may be hours or days before
another vehicle comes along.
Mountain refuges are seriously well-equipped, though. Crossing Iceland in any direction is like deep sea sailing.
You are essentially on your own, with only occasional encounters with other
mariners. Take all the fuel, food, spares, equipment you need to survive with
you, because it's a long way to anywhere and even when you get there, you may
not find much. There is also a very real danger of drowning. Literally.
Crossing the hundreds of rivers which lace the highlands demands maximum
respect, because they can kill you. The rivers come in two flavours: regular and glacial melt.
The regular ones are great fun to cross and only get tricky after heavy rain.
But when the weather is warm, the gullies that drain the glaciers can turn
treacherous. And so it was that I hit my first big one, five miles short
of a planned stop in the middle of Spregisandur
- Europe's largest desert. A 20 metre span of boiling brown water, mud and
gravel, doing about 10 knots, with half a dozen 4X4s poised nervously on its
edge, drivers scratching their heads. A Belgian in a 12-foot-high ex military command vehicle
decided to go for it and made it. I studied the depth against his tyres. Hmmm.
Then, for reasons which escape me now ('damn it all, I'm British' was in there
somewhere), I took the plunge.
Here's one I crossed
earlier. First gear, steady on the throttle, nice and balanced on
the pegs, in we go. Half way
across, things were looking good. Then I dropped into a hole. The current suddenly pushed the front way off line, with
water piling up and over the petrol tank. Thinks: either I get swept downstream
and start tumbling towards the nearest fjord or the engine is going to suck
water. Game over, either way. Then the back end was swatted sideways and miraculously I
was back on line. Doubly miraculously, the intake must have gulped just enough
air from its space under the seat to keep working in submarine mode for a second
or two. Emerging with boots and panniers full of water, the performance earned a round of applause and a slap on the back from the bearded Belgian (he crossed the highlands last year on an XL250). But any triumphalism on my part was tempered by the realisation that it was a plainly stupid move, which I survived more by luck than skill. Every guide book is packed with warnings about
crossing glacial rivers. When they are in spate - usually towards the end of the
day - the best plan is to camp up and wait until early morning when the flow has
eased. As one chillingly states: "it is better to be patient than
dead". They're right. For the rest of the trip I had heeded the advice of
Dick Spring, an American veteran of many solo desert adventures: "If
it looks bad, walk it first. If in doubt, don't do it."
On the big routes the real challenge is a combination of
length, rivers and unpredictable weather. From Akureyri in the north, it's more
than 120 miles across Sprengisandur to the nearest petrol pump at Versalir -
still little over half way to the next town. The route is breathtaking. Starting in a valley as pretty
and green as anything in Switzerland, the track climbs onto a desert plain
that's as desolate as the moon. Ringed by vast glaciers, crags, craters and
dormant volcanoes, the ride can be downright eerie. Mountainous mirages shimmer on the horizon.
A single, random rock the size of a football on an otherwise featureless
flat becomes so fascinating, you almost ride over it. Stop the engine for a
moment and your hear ABSOLUTE silence - one of the rarest sounds in the modern
world. The weather is fickle, even in the near-perfect conditions I experienced. Sweating one minute, the next you may be hit by the blast of an icy wind funnelling off a glacier. The week before, I heard, a sandstorm had stopped all movement and flattened a campsite in the interior. Next day was thick fog. Rainfall on one side of a mountain can be 200 inches a year, 20 inches on the other side.
In southern Iceland,
newly-formed icebergs break off a glacier Even on the gentler interior roads, the hammering you take
can be relentless. The surface can change from sand, to jagged rocks ranging in
size from golf to tennis balls, for mile after mile. But the toughest of the lot is washboard ripples of hard
earth, spaced about 18 inches apart. Whatever your speed, they turn the bike
into a road drill that blurs your vision, makes braking into corners a
distinctly dodgy business, and breaks traction on the way out. A couple of mountain-bikers I met said they finished every
day with hands like dead claws from ripple vibration, which regularly destroyed
fittings and added to the damage caused by falling off in sand with
spirit-sapping regularity. Hats off to you, brave idiots. Look at a detailed map of Iceland and you will find several
grades of dirt road. The lowliest could be tackled in a normal car: OK on
something like a Triumph Tiger or R1100GS. The intermediate grade (dotted lines
on the map) is for normal 4X4s, fine on any half-serious trailie. The top classification is "unofficial tracks:
specialist 4X4s only". That can be pretty darned tough, because in Iceland,
specialist 4X4 means JCB-sized wheels, ground clearance measured in feet,
emergency radios and goodness knows what else. There are hundreds (maybe thousands) of miles of each type,
so take your pick. I did one big trek on the specialist grades, about 60 miles
from Borgarnes to Geysir, plus a few excursions, but I was not about to push my
luck too far solo. Cues for turning back on any trail include a
growing litter of broken vehicle parts, plus the occasional abandoned
whole vehicle. If you meet a river where the tyre tracks indicate everyone has
turned round, do the same. In 1,050 miles and seven days, my '91 Yamaha XT225 Serow
grey import didn't put a foot wrong. Even loaded with about 80lbs of kit, it
averaged 72 mpg and the only casualty was an indicator bolt working loose. As an
increasing number of Brit trail riders have discovered, it's an amazingly good
bike for a little 'un.
Here come the Germans The only bikers I met were Germans (no surprise there,
then) on big trailies - R80GS, Tenere, Transalp etc. - using the lighter trails.
I saw just one other motorcycle
tyre track on the heavier going. Any lightweight four stroke that's reliable and has genuine
off-road ability could tackle Iceland comfortably, but I would shy away from
anything bigger than a 650 single if you really want to explore. Something as
beefy as a Funduro would be iffy. For road riders, the excellent Route 1 ring road would make
a fabulous tour, but you will be kicking yourself at not being able to head up
the dirt roads - like being confined to seeing France using only motorways. Iceland may be chilly, expensive and short of pubs - but it is seriously cool bike country.
Getting There Two day break (one night start and finish) in Reykjavik. B&B in good hotel. From Glasgow £461 (London £482). Call Arctic Experience - 01737 218800. Bike by container freight, Immingham/Reykjavik return £300. Call Eimskip UK - 01469 550200. Takes a week each way, includes customs clearance. Ferry to Iceland via Faroes. Call P&O Scottish - 01224 572615. When to go
In summer, the green bits are very green indeed. July-August. Some high roads are still closed well into June and are open only until September. Living costs Iceland is eye-wateringly expensive if you want comfort. Slum it a bit and you can live reasonably cheaply. Petrol: 90p/litre Pub/restaurant beer: £5 a pint Supermarket beer: £1 a pint Dinner: £15-£30 Fast food: £3-£4 Small hotel B&B: £60-£100 Private room/shared bath and kitchen, hostel: £8-£12 Camping: £3-£5 (free in the wilderness) Riding gear Dress for UK March/October: thermals, waterproofs, good boots. The Germans take waders for the rivers … Camping A STRONG tent with lots of pegs (for the wind). Winter sleeping bag and mat. Tyres Mostly rocky/sand. Enduro rubbers (Metzeller Sahara 3 or Pirelli MT21) probably better than full knobblies. Run high pressures to prevent rock bursts. Treat tubes with Slime or similar. Spares/Tools Everything you can carry. Better still, take a reliable bike. If anything is loose or fragile, it WILL break: that includes crap luggage racks. For luggage, forget aeros and spiders. Good quality cam straps are essential. Take fuel for 200 miles (you may miss a pump or need to detour). Maps & Guides Call Arctic Experience - 01737 218800, http://www.arctic-discover.co.uk. 1:600,000 map covers whole country. 1:300,000 set useful for finding smaller trails. Insurance My Norwich Union cover included Iceland. If yours does not, you need a Green Card. Health Brits fully covered under reciprocal agreement with Iceland NHS. Get form from Post Office. |
