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June 19th, 2008 Andri arrives at the hostel as soon as we have had breakfast. Hands are shaken, names are muttered.The first thing this robust, smiling plumber says is that Icelandic sounds much prettier than Finnish. That is something we deny off hand; those who have heard Icelandic spoken know what sounds ugly. Our indignation makes Andri laugh. He gives the impression of being an outspoken and easy-going fellow. That is good! We drive to the depot in Hafnarfjördur, south of Reykjavik, to get Reindeerman a helmet. The traffic in Reykjavik moves quite slowly - no one seems to be in too much of a hurry here. I watch the city glide by and think of what I remember of the country: Iceland is about a third of the size of Finland. There are more people living in Oulu, our home town, than there are in Reykjavik. And, well..... That is not very much. But fortunately Wikipedia, the common man's most reliable source of information, has more facts to offer: Iceland, officially the Republic of Iceland, is an island country located in the North Atlantic Ocean between mainland Europe and Greenland. It has a population of about 320,000 and a total area of 103,000 km². Its capital and largest city is Reykjavík. Located on the Mid-Atlantic Ridge, Iceland is volcanically and geologically active on a large scale; this defines the landscape. The interior mainly consists of a plateau characterized by sand fields, mountains and glaciers, while many big glacial rivers flow to the sea through the lowlands. Warmed by the Gulf Stream, Iceland has a temperate climate relative to its latitude and provides a habitable environment and nature. The settlement of Iceland began in 874 when, according to Landnamabok, the Norwegian chieftain Ingolfur Arnarson became the first permanent Norwegian settler on the island. Others had visited the island earlier and stayed over winter. Over the next centuries, people of Nordic and Celtic origin settled in Iceland. Until the twentieth century, the Icelandic population relied on fisheries and agriculture, and was from 1262 to 1918 a part of the Norwegian and later the Danish monarchies. In the twentieth century, Iceland's economy and welfare system developed quickly. In recent decades, Iceland has implemented free trade in the European Economic Area and diversified from fishing to new economic fields in services, finance, and various industries. Today, Iceland has some of the world's highest levels of economic and civil freedoms. In 2007, Iceland is ranked as the most developed country in the world by the United Nations' Human Development Index. It was also the fourth most productive country per capita, and one of the most egalitarian, as rated by the Gini coefficient. Icelanders have a rich culture and heritage, such as cuisine and poetry, and the medieval Icelandic Sagas are internationally renowned. Iceland is a member of the UN, NATO, EFTA, EEA and OECD, but not of the European Union. The climate of Iceland's coast is subpolar oceanic. The warm North Atlantic Current ensures generally higher annual temperatures than in most places of similar latitude in the world. The winters are mild and windy while the summers are damp and cool. Regions in the world with similar climate include the Aleutian Islands, Alaska Peninsula and Tierra del Fuego although these regions are closer to the equator. Despite its proximity to the Arctic, the island's coasts remain ice-free through the winter. Ice incursions are rare, the last having occurred on the north coast in 1969. What Wikipedia omits to mention is the Icelanders' interest in all sorts of gnomes, elves, hobgoblins and witches. They are somewhat ashamed of the fact. When you bring up the issue, they say they do not really believe in any underground creatures, but they do exist, though. Several Icelanders have told me the following story: They were constructing a road in Kopavogur, not far from Reykjavik. There was a huge rock on the road line, and the idea was to blow it up. The locals told the workers the rock was the homestead of a number of elves, and it should not be removed. The pleas did not stop the road works, but something else did: the machinery used at the site kept breaking down. Finally, even the most hard-headed engineers had to give in. Now there is a sharp bend on the road - round the rock. I decide to be social again, and start to listen to what the others talk about. Andri says winters in Reykjavik have become much milder in the past few years. The temperature hardly ever drops below zero, and the sleet and snow that fall do not stay on the ground. After a turn at a roundabout we are at the centre of Hafnarfjördur. Reindeerman gets a helmet for himself. We drive to Hafsteinn's place, the bikes are at his garage. Like Andri, he is a plumber, too. Handshakes, names and other social routines follow. Hafsteinn's English has a strong Icelandic accent, which makes it a little hard to follow it at first. It sounds a bit like walking on a gravel road - in English, of course. I've heard several other Icelanders speak English in the same way. But the main thing is, Icelanders are easy to get along with, even if you could not understand them. The trick is to keep nodding your head. If they give you a long, surprised look, try shaking your head: it usually brings the situation back to normal, and the conversation can go on. There is another, somewhat funny, feature in the way Icelanders speak English. If they agree with you, they say "yee, yee, yee" at a fast tempo. Just as if they had been listening to the Beatles' records played at a double speed. At a similar situation the Poles say "tak, tak, tak". I wonder what they have been listening to. Still, as Nordic peoples we identify with the same pattern of heroism:
Hafsteinn opens the garage doors. Inside there are three Kawasaki KLR 600s and two Suzuki V-Stroms. The guys may not have been in business for long yet: the bikes are in a pristine condition. The Kawa I choose only has 500 miles on the clock. I dread to think what they will look like when we bring them back after a week's ride. Hafsteinn gives us a pile of papers to sign. I am a bit behind in the packing and sign them without a proper look. The others' attentiveness seems to match with that of mine. I hope I did not sign a promissory note or something. Really, there is no need to worry. Both Hafsteinn and Andri take things easy. They will not burst into tears when they get the Kawasakis back - no matter what condition they are in. I have far too many things to pack and carry with me. On top of that, I do everything in such a hurry that I have not got a clue what to look for in which bag. But when I leave an empty suitcase in Hafsteinn's garage, I know I have everything on me. Andri makes us a pot of coffee, and we have everything ready for the off. Reindeerman has already taken a short spin on his bike and says things are OK. It turns out that my bike is the newest of the three. So far I have arranged everything with Hafsteinn. Now Andri gives me his mobile number, too - just in case something unexpected should happen. That is a good idea; Hafsteinn cannot be reached on the phone for a few days. He is going to make a tour to Isafjördur on the north-western peninsula together with a British customer on the V-Stroms. In the meanwhile Andri will take care of the rental and plumbing business. Andri guides us onto Hringvegur, the main road in Iceland. And now it is riding counter clockwise round the Island of Sagas. After a few kilometres we turn into a service station just to check everything is in order. I buy a bottle of water. Then I realize it is fizzy, not still water. It is not a very good idea to pour it into a Thermos flask. It would probably gather pressure and break the seals. I drink half a bottle and pour the rest into the Thermos; that should be OK. A local motorist has recognized the Finnish flag on my bike and wants to have a chat with us. As a sociable person, Namesake deals with him. I would like to ask the others whether they feel excited about the days ahead of us here. Then I decide not to; this is not the first time round. On the second day everything will work just as smoothly as shooting goals for Valeri Harlamov in the Soviet icehockey team years ago. I can hear Namesake tell a joke to Reindeerman. Due to the traffic noise it is impossible to make out the whole story; but in the end the Finn came in first, the Norwegian second, the Swede third, and the poor Ruskie fourth - a long way after the others. Back on the road to take a taste of the bike. Both the speedometer and the odometer seem to measure evrything in miles. This means the bikes have been imported from the States. You cannot get them in Europe any longer; equipped with carburetors they do not pass any pollution restrictions. Still, the 650 cubic centimetre thumper with road worthy knobbly tires does not feel like an awkward travelling mate. It lopes along at its leisurely pace, responds readily to the throttle and is nimble to steer. What more can you ask for! We will make friends, I am sure. I wonder whether there are any such tricks that my Guzzi California is cabable of doing and this one would not. I cannot think of any. But let us keep it cool now: a Guzzi is a Guzzi in its own right. And my KTM certainly has a better suspension than Kawasaki does. Apart from a couple of photo stops we take the first break at Hveragerd. On the map the place is marked as a town, we would call it a village, though. I take a picture of it. On the horizon, at sea some mountains can barely be seen. I point them to the others, too. They are the Vestmannaöyarna, the product of a volcanic eruption. The brochure that we have reads that at Hveragerd there are several large greenhouses that are heated with geothermal water. The real local attraction, and the way to make the place into Guinness Book of Records, is a banana plantation. We decide to leave Icelandic bananas till next time. There are worthwhile objects for the camera everywhere. But it is not a good idea to leave the bike on its own: the sidestand in Kawasaki puts the bike in a very upright position. There is no hard shoulder on the road, and the lorries dash by very close. The turbulance they make might easily cause a disaster. The next larger small town is Selfoss, the centre of the earthquake last May. A quotation of an article that appeared in Helsingin Sanomat at the time: A major earthquake, 6.3 on Richter scale, damaged houses and roads in Iceland last Thursday. According to the Icelandic government 15 - 20 people were injured. Luckily there were no serious casualties. At its most destructive the earthquake, which took place early in the afternoon local time, occured some 50 kilometres to the south-east of Reykjavik, about 10 kilometres underground. The worst damage hit the town of Selfoss. According to the eye witnesses many houses and buildings are in ruins. Dozens of people rushed into the street in fear of more convulsions. "In Selfoss, where the disaster took place, everything is in shambles. The locals are standing in the streets, and everyone is terrified", Audbjorg Olafsdottir reported from the capital. She also said her sister's house was ruined. According to RUV, the Icelandic broadcasting company, the road between Reykjavik and Selfoss was closed down due to the damages on it. The quake could also be felt in Reykjavik. "Everything trembled, windows clattered, and people were shocked", Audbjorg told the paper. That is something we want to see. The idea is to take pictures ruined houses, collapsed roads and land slides. But Namesake brings everyone's high hopes down on the ground by mentioning that the gentleman at the service station in Reykjavik had told him that the only visible marks of the quake in Selfoss are a collapsed wall of a cow shed or a barn and a few minor cracks on the road. He had been driving his car in the vicinity. He had felt the tremor but thought he had had a puncture. Having made sure the tyres were OK, he had simply driven on. That much about that! With nothing better to do, we drive to the barn and take a few pictures of it. Still, I cannot help throwing myself in the voluptuous reporting of the incident, both by Helsingin Sanomat and the locals that were interviewed. Really, it does not matter that the quake took place a month prior to our visit, or that nothing much happened at all. If days, weeks or months are viewed from the eternal time perspective, they are like the blink of an eye. Consequently, we were at the focus of the world right at the moment when the mountains tumbled down, the hills were in a tremor, and a whole nation nearly succumbed. In fear of more quakes we turn towards Thingvellir. Having experienced the cataclysm we are simply lucky to be alive! The gusty wind makes driving quite strenuous. We ride through the lushest agricultural parts of Iceland. The farms appear to be well off, not a poor looking one in sight. On the other hand, the soil is not particularly fertile; lots of chemical fertilizers are used. Only one percent of the island is arable land. Farming is important especially in terms of the domestic market. Mutton is exported, nearly everything else is for the Icelandic consumption. In the past few years farmers have started to develop secondary sources of livelihood, such as breeding minks and foxes. Farm tourism is growing, too; guests are offered a chance to take part in the every-day chores on a farm. I wonder how much I would have to pay if I agreed to make dry hay on a farm for a week! Not a particularly appealing idea! But then again, maybe I could have a chance to drive one of the huge John Deeres that seem to be working everywhere on the fields. Green fields of hay appear on both sides of the road. The road itself is narrow, but the tarmac is OK. There are also enough bends to keep boredom away. Behind some cliffs Thingvellir comes into sight. Thingvellir is historically, as well as geologically and interesting destination. At the mile long rift one can see clearly how the tectonic plates of Eurasia and America drift apart – on average about two centimetres annually. The waterfall Oxarafoss falls 12 meters into the deep over the tectonic plates near the medieval parliament square of Thingvellir. A great part of the Icelandic history has taken place in Thingvellir. In the year 930 the Icelandic people gathered here and established one of the first free republics in the world. Once a year the Althingi, a traditional legislative assembly, that had legislating as well as jurisdictional functions, held a meeting. Every Icelander could state their concerns and demand a court decision. The two-week meeting, however, was also celebrated as a kind of folk festival, at which also marriages were agreed. Also in modern times important events took place at this historical location. So for example was today’s Republic of Iceland announced in Thingvellir on 17th June 1944 There was a third aspect in the Althingi assembly, too. The fortnight's rally attracted a great number of people to come to Thingvellir. The occasion had a special kind of a climax: the women that had been found guilty of witchcraft were executed in Thingvellir by pushing them down from a high cliff. The housewives without the status as witches, but who were known for their quarrelsome and nagging nature, had a rope tied round their necks. Then they were slowly pulled across the lake at the foot of the cliff - slowly enough for them to breathe in the amount of water that put them out of their misery. After that everyone went home merry and elated. Icelandic democracy had been restored for another year again. I wonder how Icelanders deal with similar problems today. We park the bikes at the far end of the parking lot. I have a quick smoke and set the cameras in order. A minibus appears, then another. The driver of the second bus parks the vehicle annoyingly close to the bikes. All of a sudden the parking lot is crowded with people waving their arms like the wings of a windmill and speaking into each other's mouths in a loud voice. A group of Italians, and everyone seems to have a story to tell. I put out the cigarette, collect the cameras and rush after my mates. We take pictures and shoot video footage. Thingvellir is recorded on four different cameras - that should do. History and geography, that is what everything here is about. And the Icelandic tales, of course: Once upon a time there was a young girl called Jorunn living here. She was very pretty but also most capricious. Due to some unfortunate happenings she had to leave her home and flee into the wilderness. Jorunn took refuge in a cave on the mountains where she settled down. In the course of time she turned mean and vicious, and grew physically into a giant. Killing people and animals was her pastime hobby. Jora, that she was also called, used to stalk especially travellers on their way along Grafningur on the western bank of Thingvallavatn and Dyravegur north of Helling. But in the end things did not work for Jora. While she was asleep a traveller hit her in the back with his silver axe killing Jora. The axe fell into the near-by river, which has been called Oxara (the Axe River) ever since. This is the place where the Icelanders had their first Althingi in Thingvellir. At the parking lot I see that my bike has been pushed over. It is lying on its right side with some petrol seeping out of the tank. Damn it!!! It must have been the Italians, there were no others around. There are a couple of cracks in the fairing, and the handguard is hanging half loose. I am really fucked up. But let's us see, with a bit of luck we may run into the group at Geysir or Gullfoss. And I mean, literally run into them! We head for Geysir at first. The dry gravel road is so dusty that it is a good idea to keep proper distances. Actually, people ofter refer to Geysir as a place name, which is as wrong as to call all SUVs Jeeps. Geysir is the name of one of the hot springs in Haukadalur. Geysir is usually active only in connection with volcanic eruptions, last time when Hekla erupted in June 2000. The formation of geysers is due to particular hydrogeological conditions, which exist in only a few places on Earth, and so they are a fairly rare phenomenon. Generally all geyser field sites are located near active volcanic areas, and the geyser effect is due to the proximity of magma. Generally, surface water works its way down to an average depth of around 2,000 metres where it meets up with hot rocks. The resultant boiling of the pressurized water results in the geyser effect of hot water and steam spraying out of the geyser's surface vent. (Wikipedia: "Geyser") Strokkur is everyone's favourite. It sprays its steamy water up to the height of 25 metres about every ten minutes. Waiting. Staring at the screen of a video camera even for only a few minutes is a long time. I put the camera down - right at the same second as Strokkur erupts. I miss the whole scene. All I can do is to wait for the next go. This time I'm lucky. We walk into the near-by restaurant to have a late lunch. They have two kinds of soup on the menu: ordinary and traditional. The only difference I can find between the two is that they are in two different hot pots. And the fact that the latter is more expensive. I choose the traditional - maybe it tastes a bit better. The fourth official place of interest is Gullfoss, the golden waterfall. Here the waters of the River Hvita fall 32 metres into the canyon below. Splashes from the waterfall reach the viewing platform high on the slope. Namesake and Reindeerman walk down onto the cliff beside the rapids. Since I have got wet there on the two previous visits to the place, I decide to pass it this time. Instead, I take a stroll around in search of my new Italian friends. I do not run into them, though. I take a few pictures of the statue of Sigridur Thomasdottir. Sigridur was the daughter of a local farmer. She was the main figure in the successful campaign against harnessing Gullfoss in 1907. A celebrity even today, but I wonder what Sigridur's fate might have been in the days of the good old Althingi in Thingvellir! We take a gravel road back to the south coast. Quite a lot of construction on the way. When they start a road works project here, it means serious business: a quarry is probably the closest equivalent. Driving through one calls for a strong faith in divine providence. I'm not quite sure how I manage to make it, but I do. The seat - or actually the distance between the seat and the foot pegs - on the Kawasaki works fine for me. The knees end up in a gentle angle, part of the weight comes on the thighs, and I manage to escape the nasty numbness at the rear end. As for my taller mates, their situation is a bit different - from time to time they have get up and drive standing on the pegs. Back to Hringvegur at Bitra. With fatigue and cold shivers besetting everyone, we decide to call it a day. After filling up the bikes, we start looking for a place to stay overnight. I come to Hella a couple of minutes after the others. I can see a bike dashing towards the sea shore. Namesake tells me, Reindeerman has a hunch there may be a hotel in that direction. We drive after him startling a couple of horses on a stampede. The road narrows down to a foot path then to a track in the dirt. We all agree there is no accommodation to be found in this direction. Back onto the main road and towards Hvollsvöllur - there is an info bureau there. A friendly and somewhat shy girl serves us at the info bureau. Or tries to: on one hand we share a common language, on the other we do not. Her English is impeccable, but she does not answer the questions we put to her. An older male collegue intervenes, but the situation does not get much better. Finally, we reach an agreement on what would be the best option for us: a cottage at the near-by camping site. I ask the fellow which way the camping site is. He tells me it is only a ten minutes' ride from here. But which way? There is a sign there, it should be easy to find. Namesake has such a sombre expression on his face that I think we'd better take our farewell. In the front yard Namesake takes his frustration out on a Viking sword cast in a huge rock. A couple of ladies point us into the right direction. Indeed, there is the sign at the road side. At Hellisholar camping site they even have a vacant cottage for us. We are also entitled to use the two jaguzzis in the service building. We make our camp at the cottage. When sorting out things, a couple of plastic flasks fall on the floor. Good! We are still appropriately provided. Time for dinner at the restaurant. Inside a trio of musicians is entertaining the guests. A funny sort of a trio it is, though: the vocalist does not really want to sing, nor does the guitarist want to play. But the drummer takes his job seriously, banging his bongos like a mad man. We sit on the outdoor terrace till the trio has finished its set. We have mutton, well done and tender. There is also a group of ladies celebrating something. Two of them sing a song in Icelandic. And they know what they are doing. We give a standing ovation to the performance. They bring us our bills. I try to pull a modest stunt but with no success. We pay and leave. The mates inquire after my morals. But that is out of pure envy, of course. They would have tried to make most of the situation if they had recognized the chance. We go and get the towels and head for the bath. On the wall of the service building there is a sign urging the bathers to water sparingly. What is this??!! Everyone knows geothermal water in Iceland is practically free. This pool is heated with electricity. But shouldn't that be free, too? Anyway, we did not travel all the way to Iceland to use water sparingly! No way! The jaguzzi seems to hold hundreds of litres of water, but it is hardly half full. When we jump in, it is suddenly full to the brim. If I remember correctly, according to Archimedes a solid body sunk into a liquid displaces the amount of liquid equivalent to the volume of the solid body. Looking around, going on a diet might not be such a bad idea at all. A couple of female bathers look in but pull back quickly. Discretion or shyness, all in vain: there would have been enough space for everyone. Or was it the company? Soaked in hot and refreshing water externally, and saturated with lots of whisky internally, we withdraw into the cottage. I soon fall asleep. Namesake and Reindeerman go on with the nocturnal conference. |
