The Eastfjords of Iceland by gravel bike
In the autumn of 2021, Benjamin Hardman, Chris Burkard, Steve Booker, and I sat out to cycle the Eastfjords of Iceland, unsupported. Why the East? Well, there are a few reasons such as its mouth watering topography and its gravel roads that skirt the beach but the chief reason is as follows: They are still unknown to the rest of the world.
Contrary to the Westfjords, the Eastfjords are not on every ‘must see’ blog about Iceland. Aside from the town of Seydisfjordur, with its rainbow sidewalk, there isn’t much out there about this area which is exactly why we’re here. It turned out to be such a memorable trip that I turned into a new book.
This is an excerpt of Vol 03 of Adventure Buddies which drops on November 15 (along with Vol 02)
“Adventure is giving adult means to childhood dreams.”
Sylvain Tesson, French Explorer
Its with with that quote in mind that we did the first pedal strokes out of the sleepy town of Seydisfjordur. It was a pretty glorious September day, the sun was out, and the road was almost dry (which is a luxury when riding in Iceland in the fall) as we began the lengthy climb out of the fjord.
Obligatory start photo with the Seydisfjordur church behind.
L to R: Alex Strohl, Chris Burkard, Steve Booker, Benjamin Hardman.
Photo by Evan Ruderman
Our final itinerary
Steve Booker on the leg stretching routine
Ben, smashing past a low point of Day One
Being now used to the Montana weather I’m not one to be opposed to a bit of rain here and there. Day two however, delivered a perfect Icelandic ‘Skitta-mix’ (Shit mix in Icelandic) of rain and wind that I never experienced before. We got an early start to avoid the bulk of the storm that was fast approaching, and I’m going let you into a little secret: there is always a storm approaching in Iceland, but we still got totally drenched, and blown off the road a handful of times. Our frame bags turned out to be very powerful sails in the sideways wind which made the handling of the bikes a bit… erratic.
Nevertheless we made it to our hotel just in time before the 60mph wind gusts started. There were so fierce that the waterfall behind the building started flowing upside down, the wind lifting its flow into the sky.
Day two was one to remember
In the morning of our third day, after being gently rocked to sleep by the storm, we woke up to zero winds and clear skies. Iceland in a nutshell.
A few hours into Day three, we ran into these natural hot springs outside of Djúpivogur. It was a treat to get out of the headwind for a ‘hot’ minute.
We had already been cycling for 85 miles, most of them into a gruelling headwind, but Chris suggested we do a four mile detour to go ride on the beach near Hofn. You know, ‘that beach’. Sometimes in life you only have one shot at doing something, and when is the next time I’ll be within pedalling distance of this beach I’ve so frequently visited by car. I obliged, and I’m glad Chris insisted because, what a sunset it was…
Our last day wasn’t a walk in the park either. The weather had worsened and there was a fresh dusting of snow on the peaks above us. The headwind? Still blowing.
Still it was a relatively shorter day with about 45 miles to cover so we raided the breakfast buffet at the hotel, shoving three or four croissants in our pockets, saddled up and got on our way.
On the end of Day Four, with frozen toes and soaked pants, we reached our final destination — the Glacier Lagoon.
Our ending point, the Glacier Lagoon on the south coast
These images and journal entries, along with many more, will be included in the “The Eastfjords — by Sail Boat & Gravel Bike” limited edition photo book that releases on Nov 15 on Adventure Buddies. If you’re subscribed to my newsletter (thank you), you will get an invite to order before everyone else. If you are not a subscriber, feel free to subscribe below to get the order email.
A Moment In : Landmannalaugar, Iceland
Just kicking off a new photo category for the blog called ‘A Moment In’ where you can expect to be transported to a corner of the planet for a brief slice of time.
The volcanic layers of Landmannalaugar. The first time I saw this valley I couldn’t help it but think that volcanoes are pretty talented architects. One or two eruptions and voila, here’s Landmannalaugar.
Westfjords, Iceland - The Places That Impacted Me Most
I'm in what is arguably one of the most beautiful places on earth. The creme de la creme for anyone who is drawn towards places where the ocean meets jagged mountains and cliffs. Where waves abruptly end their journey on thousand foot high volcanic cliffs that formed millions of years ago.
It's 1 in the afternoon, I've gone to bed a 2:30am and had a rought night of sleep in my tent in some windswept field. But spirits are high because my friend and local extraordinaire Haukur Sigurdson is joining me for a gargantuan American style breakfast in his town, Ísafjörður. Haukur is the sort of guy who always has a story to tell, knows every single person in the North of Iceland and can source anything from a red bicycle to a full size sailing boat that sleeps 12 in a matter of minutes.
Haukur, after he found said boat.
I'm meeting with Haukur to tell him about yesterday's jaunt to his cousin's lighthouse. Yep, there's people in this world who own massive yachts, mansions in Malibu and there's Olí who owns 1000 acres of land spread across two valleys with its own lake, river system and 4km of beachfront at the edge of the world. And a functioning lighthouse.
When I heard about it knew I had to go, it sounded like the stuff of dreams for someone who loves getting lost and seemingly pointless endeavours. I arrived there after a quiet 2.5 hour walk up a pass, through a desolate plateau and down the pass towards the ocean. Needless to say I didn't see a living soul around. Just as the sun was setting, there it was, the orange lighthouse with its detached care taker house.
At this point I don't know much about the building, apart the fact that it is the more remote lighthouse in all of Europe, I’m getting the sense that I'm somewhere special. I spot the year '1959' engraved above the door and start to imagine how many local fishermen this building has saved from crashing into the shallows around here.
Haukur said that the door should be open so I knock, wait, and open the door. It's neat inside, there's a piano, a saxophone, an old VHF radio and piles of dusty books sitting on wooden shelves. What else can one need here? The only sign of recent activity I find is the guestbook; the last visitors left this morning. It is dark upstairs the windows are covered by heavy sheets to protect the overnighters from the 24 hour-long summer days found in these latitudes.
After the tour, I sit outside on the big cement slab under the lighthouse and eat a sandwich facing the North Atlantic ocean. The next landmass is Greenland some 250 miles away. It's 11pm, and it feels as I'm in a different planet.
The Westfjords are one of these places that I think about once a week at minimum. They keep me coming back for more but I can't explain why. It's an idea, it's a feeling, it's where you go rub shoulders with the end of the world. To be one with the clouds, to get slapped by a North Atlantic storm, to see what earth might have looked like before we even existed.
I love this corner of Iceland because it is out of the way, a 'detour' for the bucket list travellers who speed through the ring road in 5 days, thinking they saw Iceland but haven't even scratched the surface. To these travelers I'd recommend coming back and spending at least a few days in the Westfjords. There won't be oversized parking lots full of buses but there will be wild beauty, for miles, and a lot of friendly locals.
The view from the tallest mountain of the Westfjords: Kaldbakur
Hornstrandir peninsula seen from Latrar Air Station