I have been a reader of Online bicycle touring journals for a long time now, maybe five years, and a bike tourer for even longer. Until now, the urge to contribute to the lexicography of touring has been muted. I know that I have enjoyed reading journals, especially those about far away and exotic places like South America, Asia, New Zealand, and as the title of the journal may have suggested, Iceland. But so far, I have resisted the urge because, frankly, my tours were in the USA and western Europe, both regions that are heavily toured and frequently mentioned here on this site and elsewhere.  I also am not much of a prose writer, having spent the better part of my life as a researcher and only writing scientific reports, which also frankly, are duller than paint to the general reader. I cannot hope to write as well as Leo Woodland (a friend met through Reading online journals) or be as funny as Linda der Weltenbummler, or display the photographic skills of Grahm Finch or Andy Peat. But still, there is somthing about Iceland that intrigued me, and in the end, there is a story to tell that you may find interesting, or at least educational. At least I hope so.

This trip had its genesis in an ancient dream of mine: to go boldly into the wilderness beyond the ken of humans. That I didn't actually make it is part of the story, but as in all journeys, its not the destination but the journey itself. I chose to go now, instead of later because a, I have the time; b, I have the money, and c, a recent bout with cancer made me realize that I am not immortal. Why Iceland, you may ask. Well, because I wanted to see a geyser, and what better than the original; I don't like mosquitos or black flies, thus ruling out large portions of North America (been there, done that anyway)Asia, and Northern Europe; South America was too big for an initial trip and Iceland has the benefits of European civilization for back up support when needed. And needed it was, but more on that later.