Woke up to find that the clouds had caught up to me. I was planning on staying an extra day here to go whale spotting but when the weather turns sour I get restless and feel compelled to cycle away from it.
As I made my way out of town the wind picked up and before long I was fighting a headwind. My pace slowed to a crawl and I spent most of the day getting around the tip of the first of two peninsulas. By the time I had made my way to the second peninsula I was ready to give up, but was spurred on by two things; a sudden strong tailwind, and a run in with some Aussies. They were parked in their campervan right on the edge of the peninsula and after finding out that I’m also Australian (most people pin me as British or Icelandic), treated me to a barbecue. Fueled and emboldened by idle chit chat and cheap sausages, I decided to go for the last 20km leg to Sigulfjordur.
The road to Sigulfjordur is an exposed winding path wedged between sheer drops to the ocean and mountains made out of loose rock piles. Parts are gravel, and often quite steep. The wind and rain picked up here and so for an hour I slowly trundled up and down until, exhausted, I saw the light at the start of the tunnel. A long steep tunnel that would send me barrelling back down the mountain and into town.
The town was quiet as befit the ungodly hour and I struggled to find the campsite until I realised it was a small patch of grass in the town center next to a few parked buses. I made camp next to a fellow photographer, an Austrian named Florian. He was a sous chef at a restaurant in the east, and promised to make me a burger worth eating if I stopped by.
Really loving reading about your adventure. It looks phenomenal and I never knew you could write so well…you need to write a book bro!
I know right, I barely knew he could read
When you cut your teeth on Pratchett that shit is going to stick like a Nutella cronut in your back pocket.