Myvatn (Midge Lake)

We meet up with another cyclist the next day who was struggling with a sore knee, so bad in fact that he is pushing his bike when we pass him. It is 40kms to the next town so I take turns with my new cycling partner to tow him with the aid of a rope and karibiner. This puts added stress on our sore knees but we take it easy. As we haven't seen a car for a few hours, we decided this is the best thing to do. It is pretty big ego thing to accept this type of help from another cyclist, suffering through the pain and coping with all that is thrown at you is part of the journey and adds to the experience.

The Myvatn lake area is one of the highlights of the Iceland, a huge lake in the north of the country formed thousands of years ago by a volcanic eruption. The surrounding area has lots of geothermal activity, the Krafla crater is nearby and last erupted in 1984, so you can imagine the place is pretty active - one gets the feeling that something could blow at any moment.

Unfortunately Myvatn translated means 'Midge Lake' and the flies here are incredible, they don't bite but there are literally millions of them and they wont leave you alone, you have to wear a netmask constantly, well you do if you are clever and read up on the place before hand but if you are like my antipodean friends who just 'turned up' un-prepared then you can't really sit outside unless you protect your exposed skin.

Being so charitable yesterday, I wasn't able to visit the Dettifoss waterfall and Asbygi canyon, so rather than backtrack on the bike the 80km round trip, I hired a car for the day and did some tourist sight seeing. I found a few other injured cyclists in the campsite (out of 15 tents here, 10 belong to touring cyclists) who helped cover the cost and we sped off in our Yaris upgrade - a Toyota Landcruiser. In Iceland the 4X4 is king and when you stray off the main No 1. ring road all the roads are gravel and small cars can't really handle them.

As we left the campsite, we started to pass the other less hardy cyclists from the boat, that had taken their time. Jake the Aussie from London, who arrived in Iceland not having ridden a bike for 10 years let alone carry 30 kilos of weight, sported a spanking brand new bike and all the gear. To achieve the same daily distance as us in an 8 hour day he would take 13 hours! I offered him a lift as it was now deluging with rain and he was stopped on the side of the road, sodden making a brew. He was in high spirits and we chatted about where he had made camp the night before and he was glad to hear that the campsite we were all staying in was not too far along the road. I had a lot of respect for him for pushing on in the weather, the other cyclists that I was chauffeur to, helped him with some repairs on his bike, as he really had no idea how to even oil his chain!

Half an hour later we passed another tourer, a retired German who had already cycled 3000 km before he had reached Iceland. He was pushing hard over the loose gravel road, the surface had become so bumpy that it had a corrugated iron effect, the water was tumbling off the front of his baseball cap, like the Dettifoss waterfall we were about to visit. He was again in high spirits and didn't want a lift or to shelter from the rain, he had been though, caught out by the massive distance between civilised townships and so was running low on food - we all gave over our packed lunches for the day.

Blasting over the rough roads through the desert in the pouring rain in a Landcruiser, handing out aid packages to other cyclists, I thought we were part of some UN cyclists peace mission. I was struck by how much camaraderie there is on the road amongst long distance touring cyclists and how easy it is to strike up good friendships that seem to be at one moment as if they had been formed for years and then the next, they are gone - suddenly you reach a fork in the road and you both have different routes and agendas, and its goodbye. I felt very fortunate to be a part of this fraternity.

It was sad to say goodbye to Andreas and Clements (my German and Austrian friends) we had been inseparable for the last few days, but they both had more time to explore this wild and breathtaking country and I was on a mission to be one of the first cyclists to make the crossing of the central desert for the year, I was told that the route had only just been cleared of snow and so had to get moving.