August 15: "Pure hell"
Terrible day especially for Anne because of the stressful situations. A very
windy night that eliminated all condensation on our tent. We set out again
on the road under reconstruction covered with large stones and gravel so soft
that often the nose wheel burried itself 1 or 2 cm under the surface even
though neither of us was on the tandem. Pushing was therefore quite difficult.
I felt guilty to let him push the loaded tandem, never complaining and
saying: "all is well Dear"! But fortunately 3 km later, the
roadworks became 5 km of hard dirt track we could ride on . A good start to
the day. Weak wind 3/4 in our backs which gradually attained 46 Km/h in gusts
(mesured with our anemometer) and more (at least 50) estimated later. And
guess in which direction! (Damn Murphy!) This day we encountered the worst:
after the midges of the day before which had a special taste for auditory
canals, sandstorms, and gusts of wind forcing us to take half the width of
the road (which the motorists seemed to understand since they left us ample
leeway). But with each passing of a car, we were deviated even more. With
large trucks, we were very close to being blown off the road and as of this
moment we decided to come to a halt at the sight of every truck or bus and
wait until it had gone by. The changes in direction were many and the effort
to fight against the wind was intense. Anne regularly repeated "Dear
me", the emphasis on each word inversely proportional to the distance
we were from the middle or the edge of the road. Further ahead, we could see
the wind blowing sand across the road. We therefore stopped at the top of
a crest and made a dash for it during a lull in the strength of the wind.
Today nature wasn't on our side since she decided when we were just in the
middle of the wind swept plain, to toss sand into our faces. At least with
our eyes closed, being close to the edge of the road was much less fearsome.
Our only consolation, another completely cloudless day like the previous one.
15 km from our goal, we ran out of water. Yves proposes to stop a car:
I am so embarassed that I remain seated on my bicycle and avoid looking up!!!)
Dehydration making physical efforts doubly difficult, obtaining liquids
was essential. The first 4 cars were as short of water as we. The following
one, a camping car, agreed to fill our bottle. 20 minutes later, we see the
same camping car coming back towards us and stops to offer to take us along
with our machine to Myvatn where we intended to camp for the night. It was
not so much our thirst which had moved them to come to our rescue but rather
our fight against the wind. They must have been bewildered by our grateful
"no, thank you very much", at odds to understand the reasoning behind
our refusal. (Pride no doubt niched in the wrong spot, wouldn't allow us to
abandon our wild hope of circumventing the island without assistance. Nathalie,
our daughter in South Carolina where this project came to life, had said to
me a few days earlier on the telephone when every muscle ached: "No question
of taking the bus. All right, you can stop for a day's rest, but you must
continue on your own. OK, OK, OK.?" After turning down their proposal,
Yves turned to me: was I right in turning them down in such circumstances?
The driver had said to his wife: "The man still had a smile on his face
but not the lady!" Watching them leave in search of a place where
they could make a U-turn again many km further on, we each wondered whether
we had taken the right decision and were very moved by such kindness on behalf
of people for whom we were complete strangers. Just before arriving at Myvatn,
we spot a collection of fumaroles (gaseous emissions escaping from holes in
the earth) 500 meters off our road on the sides of the "Rose Mountain".
In spite of our fatigue (or was this a good pretext to stop a little?), we
could not resist the temptation to take a closer look: bubbling gray mud baths,
sulphur water vapor chimneys, and everywhere a slightly warm ground heated
by the entrails of the earth.
Another one km of road with a 10% grade and then finally the descent to the campsite where we were greeted by a German hitch-hiker who had spotted us in Reykjavik and reminded us that we had left on the first of August! He took pictures of us and beamed with joy when I proposed to take him as a passanger the last 100 meters in place of Anne who preferred walking on the lawn to where we were to set up camp. We were also offered a warm welcome by our friends the midges, as happy as a badly educated pup, licking eyes, hair, and ears so thoroughly that even the drums didn't escape attention. We were quite flattered by the thought that they had flown so many km ahead of us to be here to meet us upon our arrival! And pure coincidence, two French girls, Sabine and Céline, whom we had met at the Reydarfjördur campsite 5 days ago, poked their head out of their nearby tent having recognized my voice! They had been here for 3 days out of love for such a tranquil campsite at the edge of the lake and the beauty of the surroundings. I think that we will call it a rest tomorrow and go and see Krafla by bus as pure tourists!!! I hand launder all our dirty clothes and at last am able to take advantage of a shelter to dry the wash: what delight and satisfaction in knowing that we will set off again on a sound basis, very clean and proper! Small but such important pleasures…
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Road construction
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Sand storm
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Fed up (with
sand!)
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A little
before Myvatn
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Lava fields
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Very hot
mud
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Near the
fumarols
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Fumarols
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Fumeral
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The "Pink
Mountain"
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Myvatn
Lake
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