{"id":20797,"date":"2019-08-11T13:19:21","date_gmt":"2019-08-11T11:19:21","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/peregrinusmundi.com\/?p=20797"},"modified":"2021-01-21T19:29:21","modified_gmt":"2021-01-21T18:29:21","slug":"southern-delusions","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/peregrinusmundi.com\/en\/southern-delusions\/","title":{"rendered":"Southern delusions"},"content":{"rendered":"\t\t
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I open my eyes to a mass of white clouds. In the distance, a red glow pierces the horizon. A volcanic eruption, I thought before my rational mind erased the crazy idea. Probably the last light of the sun. Or the reflections of the moon. It is two o’clock in the morning and the plane will soon land on Icelandic soil. A mixture of excitement and fatigue invades me. I am finally arrived on this island so imagined. Seven years that this land has occupied my thoughts since I watched the movie “The Dream Life of Walter Mitty”. In a few minutes, I will put my feet on the ground of this particular country.<\/p>

I pick up my bicycle in its big protective box and reach in a clear night the small shelter dedicated to the bicycles outside the airport. One by one the pieces are put back in place on the frame. Pedals, front wheel, lamp. But I can not put air in my tires. There is something wrong with my brand new little pump. I use the local inflators, tired of wasting time. What do I do ? First of all, join the Volgar campsite at a distance of about ten kilometers. The rest can wait. I drive in the night on a small road that quickly turns into a track and then a path covered with small black pebbles. It is\u00a0slightly\u00a0raining. And the planned ten kilometers turn into a good fifteen. I have the strange feeling that Iceland does not want me. I finally reach the campsite and go to sleep, exhausted, at about five in the morning. The day is already getting up.<\/p>

“Hello, somebody in there? The owner’s voice wakes me up. She comes to claim her due. It is 10am. I pay her the 1750 Icelandic crowns requested and worries comes back to me. Starting to cycle around Iceland without a functional pump does not seem like a good idea. And the only place where there is a bike shop is in the suburbs of Reykjav\u00edk. I wanted to avoid the big city… but it is my only option. The road is big. It’s almost a highway. Or is it one, given the speed at which cars overtake me. Lava fields covered with yellow moss stretch as far as the eye can see. The closer I get to the capital, the more traffic gets worse. Twenty-seven kilometers later, my problem finds its answer. My pump works very well, it was just the tip that that was not in the right direction. Just unscrew it, turn it over and problem solved. Beginner error. Good lesson: never leave without testing a new pump.<\/p>

Back on the highway in the opposite direction, I pedal in the rain to join Grindavik, on the other side of the Reykjanes peninsula. With the storm the light is fantastic. In the midst of the lava fields, I feel like I am driving on another world. In the early evening, after almost seventy kilometers in the legs, I finally arrive at Grindavik and its industrial area. Anita’s Guesthouse is still empty and I enjoy the tranquility of the place to take a good hot shower and dry my stuff. One by one, the other guests arrive. Welcome to Iceland.<\/p>

The next days I travel the south coast of the Reykjanes Peninsula. The wind is blowing hard and getting on my nerves. Traffic too. Cars are passing me\u00a0all the time. Between the short intervals of engine noise lies the great silence. And the sound of the wind hissing in my ears. On one side, the big green cliffs. On the other, lava fields covered with moss. I am not far from the ocean and many seabirds accompany my slow progress. Gray weather. Rainy weather. Blue weather. I camp at Strandakirkja in the wind where terns fiercely defend their territory with intimidation moves. Even the birds are fighting against me! At Selfoss I get back to the road N\u00b01, the main road around Iceland. And its permanent line of tourists. The landscape changes. Meadows after meadows succeed one another. On the hilly road, beating against the wind and the traffic, I feel my illusions\u00a0slowly\u00a0cracking. This has nothing to do with the Iceland that I have in my head.<\/p>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/section>\n\t\t\t\t

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