In the morning, it turned out that the stove, which hadn't been working yesterday, had suddenly fixed itself for reasons unknown to science. Either a German or an Austrian picked it up, cradled it a bit, and it hissed with a blue flame. Machinery, you know, it likes affection. At least, that's what a 17-year-old girl once taught me. I've gotten smarter since then, and I won't yell "that's just idiotic" anymore; instead, I'll look affectionately and point out that men actually absolutely adore affection and tenderness, and reciprocate them, so it's much more useful to waste your charm on living creatures than on mechanisms.
We had barely left the gloomy Hvanngil campsite when another disaster struck. Andrey was walking along the trekking trail and rubbed his tire against a rock, creating a nasty gaping hole. This proved once again that bringing a spare tire to Iceland is highly advisable, even though it weighs a ton. I was lugging one around, but we decided not to put it on, because Andrey's tire was torn on the side, and he could keep going after just replacing the inner tube. We decided to save the spare tire for an absolute emergency, when push really comes to shove.
Iceland Cycling - day 9
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Inner tube replacement in progress
Here's the gaping hole
On the left slope, a chain of little ant-people
And on the horizon, the Mýrdalsjökull glacier is already glowing with an unearthly light
Height 1493 meters, area 595 km2., inside is the Katla volcano, erupts every 40-80 years.
Assaulting a bridge again
A funny structure
Almost all day the horizon was obscured by the fairy-tale view of the snowy mountains of the two glaciers
The road is well-trodden, but in places it's rocky enough to rattle you
It was our last day in the wild, and I was already getting a little nostalgic
I don't know how visible it is here, but over the course of the day we descended from an altitude of six hundred meters, and the total drop (if you count the alternating ascents and descents) amounted to a whole kilometer. It's actually quite thrilling to bomb downhill at breakneck speed on a heavy (though not quite as heavy anymore) two-wheeled steed, trying to hold onto a bucking handlebar on the edge of a precipice, and hoping that the Taiwanese aluminum factories followed the Swiss-American specifications to the letter, and the thin hydroformed frame will withstand the thick Icelandic boulders.
The clouds were racing at a mind-boggling speed
As you can see, the precipitation didn't disappoint — we got soaked to the bone
Fortunately, it was warm, and therefore the downpour didn't cause us much trouble, except that putting on waterproof pants is a chore. It rains quite often here, 10 meters of precipitation a year. For comparison, Riga is also considered a gloomy place in this regard, but it only gets about 6 meters a year. It's funny that the clouds were chasing us the whole way, but after this single instance, they couldn't catch up to us. As you've probably figured out, if the clouds were chasing us, the wind was blowing in our backs, thanks to which we covered a whopping 70 km in a day, quite a decent distance.
You can tell right away the coast is near — vegetation appeared, and it got warmer
I hope you're not sick to death of glacier photos yet
Because there's nothing else to offer you
Soon we reached what you could call a regular highway
It turned out that the map was a bit outdated, and a new road had already been laid in this spot. I made the right decision to follow the reappearing cars rather than the plan, because their wide path looked more reassuring. It turned out that if we had gone with the old option, we would have had to ford an extra river crossing, of god-knows-what nature. If you look at the track, you can see that near the river we didn't ride on Emstruleið, but right alongside it, on a road that isn't even on Google Maps yet. For a cyclist, the surface isn't ideal, but it's tolerable, especially considering we didn't have to roll on it for long.
On the horizon — the very same famous Eyjafjallajökull that recently screwed over all of Europe
Honestly, there's always a fear, mixed with excitement, that some other ambush is waiting ahead. And if not an eruption of Eyjafjallajökull, then at least the river in the photo. Fortunately, as you could have guessed by the presence of a farm and cars earlier, there was a wide bridge crossing it. It marked the end of the interior part of Iceland for us, with its incredible beauties and cruelties. We celebrated this event with a double portion of canned food, as well as the loss of my turbo lighter.
What the hell was that anyway? Andrey asks himself. Still asking, by the way