Sept. 22, 2009

Bit of a chilly night, but woke up to a blue-tinted tent. Blue sky? Sweet. Get out of tent and there are still plenty of clouds, but the clear patches in between are a welcome sign. 10 am start. Plenty to do: get bike, find a route to Mt. Esja, hopefully climb it. First, grab a change of clothes and shower in the hostel. Dry off with paper towels. Sorry environment, I smelled like ass and didn´t have a towel. Headed to bike shop and look at that: the old girl is still there. In the end, not much haggling. Paid 15.000 for the bike and two tubes. Plus, got a free cup of coffee. I have wheels! And, it doesn´t ride too badly. Back at the tent, pack everything up and hit the road around 2 pm I think. Route 1 will get me to Esja, but it is very far from bike-friendly coming out of Reykjavik. With one of the free maps I picked up, I am able to meander along sidestreets generally parallel to route 1. Take one spill on the bike as I was coming up a gravel hill and it refused to downshift. My huge pack took the initiative and pulled me sideways off the bike. No worse for the wear. Beautiful streams and rivulets leading into the tidal flats along the way. I really want a fishing pole. Finally reaching the trailhead as Esja, its a bit late in the day. I am getting tired, so I set up camp near the base. The ground is very soft; encouraging for the night's sleep. With decidedly enough daylight, I head up the trail. A light rain rolls in with the sunshine and an amazing rainbow bridges the main stream going down the mountain. It almost doesn´t seem real. Legs aching, I continue up, and the Atlantic emerges over one of the hills. The sun behind clouds, its reflection still draws from horizon to shore. That way is home. Near the top, I lose the trail amongst the crags. A little unnerving, as I am forced to do a bit of rock climbing. I find the trail again, but am not sure which direction leads up. A kind bald man tells me to follow him. He flies up the mountain, taking huge vertical steps, and I can barely keep up. Luckily, its a relatively short sprint to the top. At 708 m, I have a view of all of Reykjavik, some distant ranges, and the sparkling Atlantic. I learned that the bald man once climbed this 7 times in one day to benefit cancer. Wasting little time, he bolted back down, leaving me to catch my breath and snap some pics. After a quick snack, the cold air and wind got to me, so I headed back to camp. After a müsli breakfast, I was on cheese and toasted bread withdrawl, so I ate the rest for dinner. Oh, and this ground is like sleeping on a slightly softer Tempur-Pedic mattress. And its warm. Lights out.