"Do you believe in Elves and Trolls?"
Ivar ponders the thing before answering.
He looks out the window.
It is all that stands between us and a desert made of lava and rocks – to which a crazy pyromaniac - called the Sun - set fire.
Not just any desert - the Kjolur.
(Sounds like a yoghurt brand but...)
- hundreds upon hundreds of yards of barren, rocky, ashy land surrounded by the mighty Langjokull and Hofsjokull glaciers.
"No." He smiles.
"I wouldn't do this job otherwise... Too dangerous."
Ivar is warden of a hut in the Kjolur desert for three months during summer. Here he forgets cars and cell phones, houses and streetlights, time and money - the world. The only visitors are a few 4x4s, a bus every now and then, and the odd strange family on bikes who talk lovingly to their trailer and give it a girl’s name.
Ivar encourages young people to try the same experience.
“You get lost in this desert - only to find yourself all the more. There are ghosts here you know. Not that I believe in them either, but the travelers like me to pretend. I guess if I really believed, I wouldn't be here. Too scary."
Iceland is contained in that contradiction, and in the quiet and charming smile Ivar flashes me again.
I smile too and keep admiring his territory.
There aren't many places like Iceland on Earth. Not many which gather so much diversity.
Kjolur mixes as a crazy painter would do, ice, fire, green and red, water and sand - and there rides a tandem.
Four days eating dust and germinated seeds. The record to break? 60 kms in a day. 12 hours of hard work. Lirio couldn't stand it any more and neither could our bottoms, so nasty the road was. She cried out loud for two hours straight. Full blast. But, we couldn't stop - too much wind, too cold, not enough water to camp.
And then, as everyone knows, once the sun's away, the Trolls come out. I don't believe in this either, but you never know...
In the end, (I could give you the shivers depicting Lirio's cries of pain in her trailer) it went all right. We feared she would hate cycling forever – but the next day she happily jumped back inside, babbling to herself. We recovered by soaking in a 42 degrees celsius hot tub made of rock on a natural hot spring in the middle of the desert. Sweet Jesus on a biscuit... that's life how we like it to be.
Sure, Lirio still sharpens her teeth grinding them on rocks but we’ve gotten used to the noise. One gets used to everything, n’est-ce pas? What a great family experience the desert crossing was.
Though, it all started in a crooked way, this desert adventure...
After Reykjavik, my two women and I had a break at Solheimar, a small eco-village promoting sustainability – a small village welcoming disabled people, former prisoners, outcasts – even tandem riders. One week of interviews, meetings, screenings; beautiful people with hearts of gold. Our favorite recipe: love and fun.
But we got there slightly worried. Our trailer's fork had broken down.
Sure, not withstanding my legendary calm (no smirking) I had fixed the fork with... well, with rocks, a piece of rubber and a camping stool.
But we feared the Kjolur desert might proove to tough for our bike.
It didn't.
We then reached the North.
There are two things one should avoid reaching at once here in Iceland.
North and mid-August.
Damn it.
Now it's raining.
Then it's raining more.
Then it's easing a bit.
Then it's raining again.
Less.
Or more.
We have stopped in Akureyri, the only town. Reykjavik = the city. Akureyri = the town (at least 15,000 inhabitants packed like fish in beautiful and spacious houses neatly spread along a 20 km long breathtaking fjord surrounded by mountains. Life's really too hard on those fellows.)
And then we explored Myvatn. And its midges explored us.
So you get the picture of this place, I'd like to share the local story...
THE LOCAL STORY
(orchestra trumpeting, crowd cheering)
When God had created the world, the Devil was mad with jealousy. He urinated towards the sun in order to extinguish the glory of creation. Fortunately he missed, but from the urine Lake Mývatn was created.
Charming.
In reality, this blasted lake is a jewel, a true beauty now made a national park. Clear waters, green hills, dark volcanoes, fuming mountains and hot springs, lava fields, even trees! Lucky enough this has been turned into a reserve... because Iceland too has its environmental issues: politics sell out the country's most fabulous natural resources, destroying Nature for centuries in the hope of high profits for some years. Aluminium manufacturers have been known to settle here, seduced by astonishingly low energy prices, only to start their extremely polluting business. Dams have been built and all areas drowned under water. Geese and other birds have seen their mating spots vanish. Deer have lost their home. I'll stop here. It drives me mad to think of this all.
More info: DREAMLAND.
Ah but you want to know how our daughter is doing?
Well every morning finds her with a stronger temper and a finer sense of humour. She is quite the clown, laughing, grinning and making faces all the time.
She's comfortable outdoors, and likes to crawl and walk on the grass better rather than on inside floors. She's more used to lava and ash really.
She enjoys the wind, with an absolute disrespect for our cycling struggle against it.
She eats rocks, as you have understood, but also loves to bite into carrots, zucchinis, cucumber, mushrooms, bananas and their skin, sweet potatoes and their skin... She did appreciate salmon and lamb, and likes a touch of olive oil in her purée.
We are currently being happily hosted by lovely people in the highest and remotest farm in Iceland. Mordrudalur is the name. Elizabeth and Vilhe own this fabulous farm-stay. After a week of cycling under the rain we're fairly happy to be dry and warm... Icelanders are always more than willing to help us along but usually keep us at a fair and safe distance - which means, we're welcome to camp on their land but not to enter their homes. So this is a truly appreciated exception. In return we provide them with photos of their place for their website. Tough job I tell you: the other night we had to make photos of all the dishes and deserts on the restaurant's menu. And eat them.
Talking about photos, our new photos are online on www.planeted.eu - as always in media / photos / no man iceland, feedback is welcome, because we find it difficult to make photos of this peculiar country.
A few kms - 160 more or less - of road and trail stand between us and the harbour in Seydisfjordur where the boat will take us back to Europe. The Icelandic Adventure will soon reach an end, but Planete.D is still rocking. Lots of screenings and festivals for us this year, and in Spring 2011 the film debut and (hopefully) a book about this trip to Iceland. Stay tuned.
"It's your birthday pretty soon Dams...
- Mmmmh ?
- You wouldn't need new pants, would you?
- Why should you think that?
- Ahem. For no reason.
- Ah.
- But I see more panties here than pants... *"