Iceland, land of fire and ice and not so incidentally of
RAIN! In five plus days there, it rained (or poured
steadily) for three days straight. No joke--rain unlike
anything any of us have ever experienced. Our route
along the south coast was washed out in several places--
where the rain-swollen rivers had obliterated the
roadway. This being Iceland, of course, the local
bulldozers just created a new road by some judicious
earth moving in a few hours. Fortunately, Bob had the foresight
to hire a four-wheel vehicle to transport the six* of us and the
bicycles. It just wasn’t the way we had anticipated seeing the
countryside.
And what countryside--huge waterfalls everywhere, cinder cones of ~2,000 feet
coming steeply down to the road edge, magnificent glaciers, icebergs, colorful fishing villages and pretty
farmland.
We dropped our sag in Egilsstadir near the east coast, intending to cycle the 20 miles to Seydisfjödur the next
morning for the noon ferry to Tórshavn in the Faroe Islands. The locals had mentioned a hill between the two
towns--which turned out to be a 2,500 foot, snow-covered,
pass. A bus transported us to the top for a great downhill run
into Seydisfjödur.
After an overnight sail, we arrived in Tórshavn, the capital of the Faroe Islands an
autonomous possession of Denmark. The islands are characterized by
treeless, very steep mountains, colorful villages and more drizzle and
rain.
Two days later we were back on the same ferry for a day sail to Lerwick in
the Shetland Islands. Again, treeless hills but some sun and the natives spoke
English--with a very strong Scottish accent.
Another overnight ferry saw us in Aberdeen after a short stop in
Strommes in the Orkneys. Bob led us skillfully through the morning
rush hour traffic to the airport for our rental sag--and then it began to
rain again. Heading north through rolling farmland, the sun reemerged
as we neared the Spey valley and its famous distilleries. Onward for a
cycle to Culloden (Bonnie Prince Charlie’s defeat at the hands of the
English); along Loch Ness (no monster sighting) and deep into the
Highlands abloom with purple heather. In Oban with a rest day,
another ferry to the Isle of Mull and a tour of Duart Castle. Our last
cycling day took us to Inveraray and our last ferry to Greenock and our
airport hotel.
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*Bob Boysen, Gay Burgiel, Pam Cissik, Henry Kane, Dave Kay and myself