August 9, 2000
South By Southwest
| Heart | 0 | Comment | 0 | Link |
| Heart | 0 | Comment | 0 | Link |
I had everything packed ready to go at 9. The warden had just got up out of bed when I went to say goodbye. She wished me good luck and said to ring when I get to Nydalur, so that the rescue team do not have to go looking for me.
The first few kilometres was slightly downhill, stoney and bumpy. It was here that another spoke broke in the back wheel. Though, instead of going even more out-of-true, the wheel when I checked ran truer due to the freshly broken spoke being opposite the first broken spoke, so it didn't put too much of a dent in my confidence. I continued and not far onward the track levels out on a wide expands of deep black sand. An area called the "Vitisandur" which translates as the sands of hell. There is no longer a firm surface to ride upon, just car tracks through deep loose sand with posts every 200 metres marking the way. Impossible to ride upon, so I was off pushing the bike; not easy when the bike weights so much while my feet sank into the sand. Moreover, the usual way to push a bike is to stand offset while leaning over to hold the handlebars with both hands. The inside foot against the heavy bike drags while the foot on the outside takes long strides, a kinda lopsided walk which quickly became exhausting, leading me to experimenting with different pushing techniques such as pushing in reverse while walking inline with the bike. Whatever way, I had to pause often and soon got into pushing from one post to the next, stop to rest for a minute, push to the next post and so on.
For the first two hours the view of Askja and Heidubreid beyond didn't seem to be getting any further behind me as progress seemed hopeless. Ahead to the southwest I could see the distant shape of Kristafell with the cone of Trolladyngja to the north of it. I knew the route passed between these two mountains. Though increasingly ahead a haze of airborne sand was rising and before long the haze blocked out the view completely and the sandstorm was heading my way as the wind started to pick up. Soon it was extremely stormy and I could not see far in any direction, as the sky darkened and grains of sand rained down on me.
After two hours struggling forward, I had to sit down. When I open my thermos to pour tea, the sand blew in and destroyed the open/close valve. No matter how I tried, the sand got into everything: the can of tuna I opened to spread on crispbread. Grains of sand crunched between my teeth as I ate.
The sand blew all afternoon through to 7 in the evening, by which time I had reached the fork with northern and southern routes and taking the latter, a little further, the quicksand was reached having a firm surface where small streams criss-cross with sandbars in-between, bringing relieve that I could get on and ride the bike. To the south there was a clear view of Kverkfoll and the edge of Vatnajokull.
I was glad to pitch the tent for the night and thought little about the perilous nature of my campsite on a sandbar.
| Rate this entry's writing | Heart | 0 |
| Comment on this entry | Comment | 0 |