Across Iceland with a tent
Some of our past members of the ALC have had incredible adventures and Cynthia Bladon wrote about such a trip in the September 1957 edition of "The Cycle Camper", a predecessor for our current bulletin. She and the three others on the trip were lucky to survive!
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Have you ever longed to leave civilization behind you - really behind? No shop conveniently placed around the corner to provide the essentials of life. No ambulance on easy call to convey you in comfort to the hospital should you get hurt. No solid shelter should your tent collapse. Ever thought about it? I am sure you have. Well why not take the plunge - we did and never regretted a single moment.
This is the story of an unsuccessful attempt to cross the interior volcanic desert of Iceland on a bicycle; unsuccessful for we did not reach our destination, but successful enough if simple survival be taken as a yardstick.
Iceland is an island situated just below the Arctic Circle. Her nearest neighbour is Greenland, about two hundred and sixty miles away.
The climate is oceanic and the rigours of the latitude are mitigated by the Gulf Stream Drift, so that Iceland is not truly a land of ice, but rather of volcanoes and glaciers, of green plains, slate grey mountains and dusty desert. But, at any given moment of time, the over-riding scenery is provided by the rivers; streamlets, rivulets or great crashing torrents born of glaciers. They are always there. Rivers, ice cold, menacing and dangerous, changing their course, faster than the maps can be made. Rivers that have to be waded, forded or swum by any traveller who wishes to penetrate far into the interior.
Maybe we are just prejudiced as it was the rivers which finally beat us. Storms, the desert grit, the difficulty experienced in carrying sufficient amounts of food or fuel, all these are as nothing by comparison with the great eternal barriers of the rivers.
We were four in number, two of each sex, and all had had considerable rough stuff experience. One male refused to take part in the actual desert crossing, at the last moment, hence we had to part with our spare gear. He went on alone, along the coast road arriving at Akureyri by bus., and calling out the Icelandic Rescue Unit when we failed to arrive there by the desert route.
Embarking at Leith, we attracted a great deal of attention, because of our equipment - we were taking bikes; not only were we taking them but all our food, clothing and camping gear was simply and easily transported by this means. There were two other expeditions, and a number of smaller groups embarking with us, and each group arrived by motor transport and was completely surrounded by mountains of crates.
With us we had the following; two standard Itisa tents with Senior fly-sheets, a small store tent, length of rope (not nearly enough; you need two full length, full thickness ropes, we would have got through if we had had these), spare pole, guy lines and pegs, two Primus stoves two canteens, two prismatic compasses, a ball of twine, a small medical kit, all available maps of the area, and cycle repair kit. Personally we used ordinary down bags, and air beds. One change of clothes, and some personal articles complete the list. Somehow we managed to have with us a book on Eastern Religions, and a short history of England; we became heartily sick of them both!
Food and fuel are so important that they deserve separate mention. Obviously it is quite impossible to carry five weeks' food and fuel on a bicycle, so that considerable quantities of supplies were obtained locally, and seven days rations were the maximum ever carried at one and the same time. Owing to an unfortunate delay the bulk of our dehydrated rations failed to catch the boat, so we had to obtain substitutes in Reykjavik.
Oats, flour, tinned meat, cheese, margarine and vitamin C tablets formed the mainstay of our diet. Locally obtained dried fish and dehydrated-soup, one fresh cabbage, (price 7/6, and a great luxury) on two occasions fresh bread, loads of very hard biscuit, plus anything edible we could find completed our diet. The water in the interior was heavily contaminated with volcanic chemicals, sulphurous in nature, and was consumed as lemonade - it had the usual effects! All tea leaves were used twice to conserve supplies, with dried milk and a little sugar it was our special treat. Cooking was our main interest, dumplings, pancakes, cheese cakes, camp pastry, all were cooked to perfection. A stew of meat, dumplings soup powder and edible moss was a very popular dish. Paraffin is plentiful, but meths unobtainable. We carried eight pints of oil, at a time, and eight ounces of meths throughout and were never without fuel, although the temperatures were exceptionally low for the time of the year and fuel was frequently used to warm the tent. During the actual desert crossing when fuel was scarce, we consumed 80 Mars bars without which we would not have survived.
The three day passage on the "Gullfoss" was comfortable and uneventful; the food, for those powerful few who resisted the ravages of sea-sickness, was truly wonderful. The weather began to deteriorate as we ploughed northwards leaving the sun behind. We were told it was Iceland's worst summer for 70 years, perhaps, but what we thought about it is unprintable. Arriving at Reykjavik, in shorts, we were met by a cheerful group of locals attired in furs and siren suits.
If I could find the editor of the guide book which stated that summer temperatures approximated to England------!
So much for the blacker side of things, the rivers and the weather, what warmhearted people these Icelanders are. Firstly we were interviewed by the press and then taken for a sight seeing drive by a local schoolmaster so it was late in the evening when we first hit the dusty road to Selfoss. It would take many reams of paper to describe our journey along the coastal road, swinging into Marteinstunga across the Thjórs river, to reach the base camp at Skard. Pleasant days of gentle cycling along the rock-strewn dirt tracks that serve as roads, past hot springs and lush grass, tall grey rock and rounded slag-heap looking hills. The nights in camp with the low rays of the northern lights making fascinating patterns in the sky, and above all the overwhelming hospitality of these fair-haired people; and so to base camp.
Shielded from the bitter winds by a deserted farmhouse, preparations were made to cross the interim volcanic desert between the two glaciers. This was a major undertaking, as better folk than us have only recently lost their lives in the attempt. During the preparations many pleasant days were spent rambling, swimming in the rivers, and climbing the volcano Hekla. We were camping in the lee of this fine active volcano, and spent many happy hours watching the tongues of flame leap from it's gigantic crater.
Onward into the desert, way finding by compass and by taking rocks when the compass became useless (volcanic rock). Tougher and tougher weather, wind so powerful that a loaded rucksack was blown 50 yds. Sand for breakfast, lunch and tea - not a blade of grass or living thing - increasing difficulty in keeping the tent on the ground, occasional shortage of water and a gradual reduction of rations until hunger was permanent. But always the rivers, poleing, wading, swimming, immersed in swirling water, at a temperature of melting ice, for hours at a time heaving the gear (and bikes) across the endless barriers of the rivers. Deterioration in the weather, wind force 80 mph, water level rising rapidly in the rivers, but still on, until beaten by a river, that was so swollen it was impossible to cross - our life line was not long enough, to cross without, a 10 knots river, 16 ft deep in places, at that temperature, would have been suicide. We had not the rations to reach the other ford, so slowly and painfully we eased our way back; following the contour of the glacier; until we eventually reached the pleasant coastal plain. Safe at last, or so we thought.
We had lost weight; we were short of sleep- some of our kit needed repair. We ate and slept and slept and ate - wonderful life; but not for long- our entire gear was carried away by a sudden storm, a storm so powerful that it was necessary to lie down or be blown away ourselves. So abandoning our equipment we sought the shelter of a farm, there to lie up for two days until the storm had abated. By a stroke of fortune most of the stuff was recovered but we were without fly-sheets, maps and protective clothing and so to limp back, staying at farmhouses and getting to know the Icelandic people.
The Icelanders are descended from the old Vikings, still retaining the original language and able to read the old sagas.
The general standard of living and culture is on the whole higher than Great Britain, electric washing machines are universal. There is no coal and the cost of everything is high, and so to Reykjavik.
What a fuss, the press, the rescue authority, the British Consul still got by by giving to all our grateful thanks. For it is the overwhelming hospitality of the people that will forever remain to those who cross Iceland with a tent.
Cynthia Bladon.
If you want an idea of how tough their adventure was you might like to look at this great video of a recent crossing:
YouTube Video of a modern day crossing of Iceland