Before long, we wrapped up our errands in the capital and headed exactly where we had planned to go all along – Thingvellir National Park.
Iceland Cycling - day 1
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The concrete surface hides a water pipe underneath
In the photo is one of those pleasant little things that always bring joy while traveling, and give us the spirit of discoverers and adventurers. To avoid slogging down the boring Highway 1, which rings the island along its edge, we found ourselves amusements like bike paths, and here we were straight-up riding on top of a water pipe. At least, that's what a heavily tattooed cyclist with a little daughter told us.
The weather, as you can see, is overcast, and this plague followed us constantly. An Icelandic saying goes: "If you don't like the weather, wait five minutes, and it will get even worse." As the dude from the previous part said (can't vouch for the exact quote):
“Iceland has three national treasures: cold water, hot water, and the weather.”
Cold water — because in almost any part of the island there is plenty of the purest drinking water; hot water — meaning, of course, the geothermal power stations. But as for the weather — that's malicious sarcasm. True, you could also take it to mean that with weather like this, immigrants aren't exactly itching to flood the country, and Icelanders get to live quietly in their simple and dignified world.
A rare sight — trees and grass, and such lush and thick ones at that
Rumor has it that when the first inhabitants arrived in Iceland around 700-800 AD, it was entirely covered in forests. Traditionally, the year of the country's settlement is considered to be 874, when Scandinavian settlers showed up in Iceland. But before them, Irish monks had been hanging out on the island for a while, who mysteriously vanished with the arrival of the harsh Vikings. Whether they bailed out of fear or got slaughtered — who can tell now.
A horsie
While riding along the pipe, we spotted a rusty tourist sign and a map. For some reason, I decided it was a waterfall, and naturally, we had to go see it — seeing as we supposedly had the time. But my brain glitched out — the name ended in “fell”, which looks like “fall”. I forgot that in Icelandic (which, by the way, is essentially Old Norse), waterfall is “foss”, and “fell” is simply “mountain”. And so we had our first ride on a dirt road, and uphill at that. It was a bummer, but despite the sign, you couldn't really ride all the way to the mountain itself — we had to walk. There was almost nothing remarkable inside — just a small valley covered in grass. On the flip side, there were little birds running (specifically running, not flying) on the grass, making a funny “beep” sound, like some kind of car alarm. That was nice at least — after all, for the sake of these birds we had to climb from 50 meters to 200, and then back down. You can see it here, a little peak in the elevation gain that is completely out of place: https://www.gpsies.com/map.do?fileId=hoxudkhefppeewmh
And these horsies were eating our pricey bread
As soon as I rode off, they started kicking each other, the hooligans
Tourists on horsies
There are lots of horses in Iceland; you periodically see whole herds. Why, is not quite clear, except maybe to give tourists rides. True, word is they are still used in agriculture, but that's impossible to believe, considering the off-the-charts standard of living we saw everywhere in Iceland. It's interesting with the horsies, by the way: it's forbidden to import them into Iceland so as not to infect the locals with new diseases, and those that have been taken out are never allowed back in. The local breed descended from ponies, but Icelanders get offended if you call the horses that — they are Viking horses after all, strong and hardy, with a Nordic character.
This is called a Cairn; there is no such word in Russian, so they just dumbly say “pyramid of stones”. The purpose of such a structure can vary: to mark a trail, say, or to greet the gods, or whatever. In the modern world, it's usually just a nod to tradition, an amusement for travelers. I, of course, forced the punk to stack one — after all, he is constantly guilting everyone that nobody wants to participate in anything. There's not much joy in doing this in the drizzling rain in the cold after 30 km on the road, but he forced himself to do it anyway, all credit to him!
No, this one isn't his handiwork
Even in this kind of weather, the gloomy beauty of Iceland cuts right to the heart
And so we reached our goal for that day — Thingvellir Park
