DAY ONE

My first night in Reykjavik was in the one and only campsite in the north-east of the city, after


Páll Guðjónsson 		setting up my single-man tent I contacted Pall, from the IFHK, and he dropped by to chat. I had some equipment and adjustments to add to the trike, the things that would have been broken or lost if left on for the flight i.e. lights, speedometer etc. The trike and wheelchair had survived the flight remarkably well with only minor damage to some spokes to show for it. We sat in the glorious evening sun that didn't even dip into the horizon until 2am and chatted about cycling, disability and the similarities and differences in our countries. He was very interested in the trike and the trip that I was about to embark on and had plenty of advice to pass on, after taking some pictures we parted and I got some much-needed sleep. I awoke at 5am to a dull and overcast day.
For communications and safety, I had arranged back in UK, through the Internet and a guy called Njordur Snaeholm at Landsiminn to hire a mobile satellite phone, normal GSM coverage in Iceland is not very wide and unreliable. (This was supposed to be done the day before, but because of the flight delay was not possible). After collecting the phone I went across the street to Makid, a camping and cycle shop, to see if they could help out with a minor mechanical problem that Pall and I had found the night before on the trike. They were extremely helpful and one of their number was an Irishman, Colm Mcginley, who after spending six years in Iceland spoke the language fluently. So with communication made easier a small addition was made to the trike and after waiving the charge for time and materials for the charity, they wished me luck and I set off at 12 noon, 6 hrs later than intended.
Once on the road I headed north east out of the city on one of the major arterial routes, Route 1(Route 1 is the main road that encircles the island it is mostly tarmac but has sections of gravel and dust track) towards Mosfellsbaer. The traffic was heavy by Icelandic standards (but not by London standards) and the road was fairly good, however I soon had a taste of hills to come. The area I was travelling through is relatively flat but there are some inclines that were long if not steep. I had been making about 12-15 kph but the hills took that down to 2-3kph and of course I was at my heaviest, kit and food wise.
Shortly after Mosfellsbaer I turned east onto Route 36 toward Pingvellir and my first night on the road under canvas. It was soon after this that the predicted rain I'd been promised and had threatened all day finally arrived and I was soon pulling over to don my waterproof.

I plodded on taking each hill as it came and doing my best to make up for lost time on the downhills. The rain continued and the as I got higher the cloud reduced visibility, this was not a problem for navigation, after all I was on a road, but the views were spoilt somewhat.
As I left the farmland and small hamlets of the Mosfell area behind the wind decided to try its hand. Had it been from the west and into my back it would have been helpful but it wasn't, it seemed every turn I made the wind was in my face holding me back and endeavouring to stop me, rather like smoke following you around an open fire. At one point in an almost surreal incident an Icelander, Bjorn, pulled up to me in an enormous four-wheel drive car and asked if I needed any help, I said I was ok and heading for Pingvellir. He then asked if I would like to go kayaking with him and a group of kids on the lake at Pingvellir in the morning, I said that I would love to but I had to be on the road at an early hour so I didn't think it would be possible. He said that was unfortunate, wished me luck, and we said our goodbyes and parted.
Eventually I stopped and checked the map for some shelter thinking that in a couple of hours the wind at least might abate. The map showed an emergency shelter 3km ahead so I put my head down and rode on. I reached the place marked on the map at a junction and saw the sign for the shelter indicating that it was 50 meters to the right, just off the

road. I looked but could not see any shelter, after rechecking the map I decided to ride down the bank onto a muddy track then up a small slope to see if the shelter was just on the other side. After struggling in the mud for 20 min I got to the top of the rise and... Nope there was no shelter.
There seemed to be no let up in the weather so I had a choice to make, stay here and put up my tent in what was becoming a gale or push on for 15km to the campsite at Pingvellir, I decided to push on. As the weather deteriorated I found the going getting harder and harder and just as I was again contemplating stopping and camping at the

roadside Pingvellir came out of the rain. The last 500m were blissfully downhill and as I rode onto the deserted campsite, I checked the time, it was 8.30pm. I couldn't believe it, I had been on the road for 8 1/2 hours and only covered 52km, of course at this point the rain stopped and the wind subsided. Pingvellir is the site of the first Icelandic parliament or Alping in 930. Although the Alping is now in Reykjavic the area is of great natural beauty and being on the rift between the North American and European plates makes it very significant geologically, it was and still is Iceland's first National Park. I put the tent up and got out of my wet gear then made some tea and something to eat whilst listening to the weather forecast and BBC World Service. After doing some maintenance on the trike I finally crawled into my sleeping bag at 11.30pm it was still light but overcast and stayed that way through the night (in late July you can expect 18-19 hours of daylight).