The Grand Tour

The Grand Tour - North

Ring Road Iceland

I invited myself, and needed a way to get there. At first there is always a hesitation before planning these journeys. It didn't used to be this way, but there is so much to leave behind these days, these past years (yes, that means you Bella and Sadie). I am trading happiness and a content fulfillment for the adventure of the road (not equal loves of mine). If I could combine the two it would be ideal, but that isn't on offer for this tour.

I could have taken the usual, well-trodden path to the destination of this tour, but been there, done that... So, I found an alternative.

I landed in Keflavik, Iceland's major airport, at a bright and early 7AM, made even earlier by little serious sleep on my flight from JFK where I had an all day sleepless layover.

Rental car had been pre-arranged, but I was told by the desk attendant that there was no reservation. My inner "Jerry Seinfeld" began to rise to the surface, but I subdued my urge to use a New York irate to attempt to influence the situation. Patience, and 45 minutes watching 4 other customers in the other line get processed ahead of me, provided me with my keys to road freedom.

After hours of being flown across the Atlantic without any control, it was with a surge of power that I started up the Nissan 4 wheel drive, and headed for the rental car parking lot exit. Only a ticket gate separated me from the open road. The car in front of me was having issues with the machine that powered the gate arm. I saw the reverse white lights come on, and I stared down at the stick shift of my car.

The R for reverse was in the top left position, so I depressed the clutch and muscled the shift stick to the appropriate position, and started to release the clutch. The car began to edge forward. I depressed the clutch to avoid hitting the car in front, and slammed on the break.

With as much force as my tired body could muster, I slammed the stick shift into the left top most position. I began to release the clutch, and the car began to edge forward. I looked up and noticed the car in front of me edge forward and the driver begin to push buttons on the gate machine again. I looked down at the stick shift of my car again and noticed a little circle of plastic under the top ball and realized that I needed to pull up on this plastic ring in order to move the shift stick into the reverse position. This realization came to me too late, for the gate had just opened for the car in front of me.

I had encountered this same problem a few years back in France driving a newer rental car. It seems my muscle memory when driving a manual transmission is to be able to access all gears based on the shift stick ball map without any additional levers to pull on. It seems that this old dog has trouble learning new tricks.

I made it out of the airport rental parking lot with a blast of extra adrenaline in my system, but no accident. The road was open to me, let the grand tour north begin.

If my better half was along for the ride (yes you Bella), I might have stopped in Reykjavik, but I simply drove right on through, following all signs for Route 1, the famous Icelandic Ring Road. I had an important decision to make, should I follow the road north, or should I take the southern route? I had been on parts of both routes on bus trips during earlier visits to Iceland. The route north afforded me a chance to visit the romantic sounding city of Akureyri, while the route south offered me a close up look at Eyjafjallajökull, the famous glacier that interrupted air travel over Europe back in 2010. My exhausted mind based my decision on the first exit that I came across, which was Route 1 South.

Iceland's Open Road on Route 1 (Ring Road)

Most of the road for the first few hours was glimpses of lava fields through the fog. Most of the drivers close to Reykjavik at this early hour were locals, so I didn't have to worry about the tourists who stop in the middle of the road to capture that sudden amazing selfie photo. They should start posting warning road sings in those areas of Iceland where tourists are most likely to make Route 1, the Ring Road, suddenly impassible. Then again, who can determine where tourists are likely to think that a selfie is essential?

So, if you are disappointed with the lack of photos along the road, know that I only made stops for gas, or when nature was calling. No selfie shots, no dangerous stops in the middle of Route 1, even though I could have done so at least 20 times an hour along my 9 hour journey.

There are many scenic points before the city of Vík that I had already seen and taken pictures of on my previous bus tour visit a few years back, but I almost hit my first tourist as Route 1 came around a curve with a beautiful view of Vík below. It made me feel like I was driving through a National Park in the USA where people stop suddenly in the middle of the road to capture a photo of a buffalo, or a bear, but in Iceland it was the scenery that was unlike anything else in the world.

Rainbows followed me across the lava fields

Whenever possible, I like to avoid looking like the ignorant tourist. When I stopped in Vík, it was initially to grab a bit of shuteye. I pulled into a gas station, but couldn't sleep more than 5 minutes with the noise of the wind pounding against the car, and the bright sunlight blasting through the windows.

I snuck into the gas station to gather some intel on gassing up the car. I watched through the windows as a couple of ladies struggled to figure out the automated pumps. One of the ladies came inside. I eavesdropped as I pretended to study the candy bars on offer.

"How do I use the pumps?" she asked of the cashier.

He responded with a well practiced memorized speech in perfect English. My guess is that he repeats it a thousand times a day to other tourists, especially during the busy tourist season.

"You can use your card at the pump, it will prompt you to select the pump number, and then enter your card's PIN number."

She cut him off mid speech.

"But I don't have a PIN number for my cards."

He continued his lines, prepared for her interruption.

"Or, you can buy a cash card, I have 3 different amounts, and you can use that card at the pump, use it at multiple pumps until it is empty, and then throw away the card."

She proceeded to buy a cash card, and then went out to successfully fill up her car.

I grabbed a Snickers and a Coke, and went up and selected a cash card, saving the cashier one performance for the day.

Yes, I know what you are thinking, men ARE afraid to ask for directions. TRUE! But thank God for women, otherwise I would still be lurking in that gas station, pretending to analyze ingredients for a Snickers bar, waiting for some female tourist to come along and prevent me from looking foolish and unmanly...

Many miles looked like this on Route 1

I knew that I couldn't be tempted to stop now, halfway through my 9 hour journey, for I wouldn't be able to make it to my destination without a good night's sleep. There were many temptations along the way, but I needed all the concentration that I could muster to keep the car on the road. There were long straight sections, but also many curves, and single-lane bridges.

As you can notice there is little to no shoulder on most of Route 1, so no "wake-me-up" rumble strips on the side of the road like in the USA, no 6 foot margin of error shoulder to be able to bring back the wandering vehicle onto the road.

No, in some places there is a sheer drop off, or a one lane bridge with not warning lights signaling oncoming traffic. Route 1 is the "Wild Wild West" of Highway driving (nothing compared to the roads of interior Iceland I am sure).

One of the few cars I had to pass

The radio kept me awake and alert, as well as my full bladder. Finding a place to relieve yourself on the side of the road in a terrain with no trees for cover is a challenge. And the pictures don't depict the gale force winds blowing outside of the car.

I made sure to stand with the wind behind me (don't spit into the wind), and during this pause next to the car, I noticed the reason that my rental car was so damned noisy. The tires were studded, little metal studs on each tire to help provide traction on icy roads. I thought that they had given me a car on which they failed to change the winter tires. I wondered why I would need these tires on these clear roads?! They're simply trying to run up my gas consumption, I thought. I am always paranoid for being taken advantage of when outside of the USA (as if it doesn't happen to me there).

Getting back into the car was a workout. I opened the door with ease, aided by the wind that is. But I had to use all of my upper body strength, and I mean all of it, to shut my driver door again against the wind. Be careful where you park, be careful opening your doors while in Iceland! Be careful when you fill up your car with gas, for you are likely to get sprayed when you pull out the nozzle!

The rest of the trip to Egilsstadir was the most scenic, but I couldn't take my hands off of the wheel because it was the most challenging of the trip, and I was the most tired. I drove past two glacial meltwater lakes that offered boat trips for tourists, I saw the North Atlantic Ocean out of my right window, Vatnajökull ice cap out of my left window, and a black ribbon through my windshield leading me off to Egilsstadir.

Route 1 became dirt for some stretches as I approached Egilsstadir. I even had to climb up over mountain passes where the studded tires became handy. No, the rental car company wasn't trying to take advantage of me, they were actually trying to save my life I guess.

View above Egilsstadir

The next phase of my journey was a ferry trip from Seyðisfjörður to the Faroe Islands on the Smyril line.

I dropped off the rental car at the Egilsstadir airport, and took a shuttle down to Seyðisfjörður.

Smyril Ferry in Seyðisfjörður

Room with a view on the ferry

View of the fjord

Leaving Iceland for the Faroe Islands

It was shoulder season for the ferry, so not full, but more people than I expected. Most of the passengers were German, and the second majority were Danes. The dinner buffet servers kept wanting to speak German to me. The average passenger looked to be retired. The bar singer was belting out a mix of English and German pop songs, and the bartender was furiously trying to keep up with the drink demands.

Buffet dinner sample

As the evening progressed, and the ferry ventured further out into the North Atlantic Ocean, the bumpier became the ride. The sleep that evening was quite a roller coaster ride, but I did find out that I don't have the slightest bit of sea sickness.

The ferry mapping a path through the Faroe Islands

Arrival to the Faroe Islands

Smyril Ferry docked in Tórshavn, Faroe Islands

The main objective for this journey was to attend the art exhibition of my long time friend Joel Cole. I am at a loss for words regarding how much of an honor it was for me to help Joel set up for the exhibition, to dine and reconnect with him and his beautiful wife Kristina, meet his wonderful friends, and to attend the exhibition opening.

As one member of his large company of friends and loved ones, I am very proud of Joel's artistic achievements, and so happy that he was selected to be the Rotary Exchange student in the Faroes instead of me in 1986 (there would have never been an event like this if I had been sent to the Faroes). Props to you Joel!

Here are some pictures of the set up and the opening night.