#BlackIce: Running across Iceland (Day 1)

Day 1 

For 38km it looked just like Scotland and then for 35km it looked like we were on the moon, with a tasty headwind. Expedition #BlackIce is well and truly underway and James Elson and myself ran the first 73km with about 2500m of uphill and coped well, which is more than we can say for Helga, our support vehicle. She had a bit of mare.

Starting in Akureyri in the North of Iceland, we kicked off from a inlet where the coast ended and had a good bit of road running to start the day, even getting to run with a local called Meredith whilst being chased by a kitten. The weather was good for running, if not pleasant, with some wind, rain and cloud, but the scenery was fantastic.

Large ridges rose up either side of us as we ran up the glacial valley floor, becoming more and more tempted to divert onto one of these epic looking climbs, but resisting to leave it until the next trip to Iceland, which will inevitably happen.

As the ground beneath our feet changed from tarmac to hard packed trail, we knew we had reached the start of the F821, one of Iceland’s many highland roads and our route up to LaugaFell today. With lots of rocks, fords and actually becoming a river at one point, it was testing for James and myself, but also hard work for Helga.

Born in Japan, Helga is a Suzuki Vitara that we rented upon arrival and we gathered early on that she was an experienced traveller. At 40km she had burned through a quarter of her tank and, although we were packing extra fuel, a mini crisis meeting was held on the side of the road. We did not have enough for the crossing.

We decided to move on and make our decision at the day’s end, Laugafell refuge, which was closed for Winter but would hopefully provide some shelter from the wind. The subject of petrol was now taboo and James and I moved on up the major climb and into the moonscape.

Many people had told us how desolate the Icelandic Highlands are but it still doesn’t prepare for what it is like when you get there. From leaving the last hamlet we saw not one person, only two birds and one Orange Fanta bottle top, the sum of all the litter we came across that day.

The wind had picked up and was heading straight for us, blasting at about 50km/h and, like an angry South Park bear, was coming straight for us. Heads down, we soldiered on, often having to make do with the company of our own heads as the wind made conversation very difficult. Personally I think James was a little relieved for the respite.