Riding into Reykjavik is an odd experience. After crossing bleak lava fields, frigid passes, and steaming geothermic pools you arrive in a thoroughly modern and happening city. The buildings generally follow the traditional Icelandic style that comes from the driftwood framed/corrugated tin sheathed necessity of the past. Maybe that’s why the people seem so passionate about their personal artistic expression- music and art abound. That being sad, I really couldn’t get into the city- my mind kept wandering back to the ‘real’ Iceland- the Iceland where you never get too comfortable on your seat because you know you’ll be up on your pegs before long.
Those thoughts of wild Iceland were happily fed by my neighbours at the campsite- a couple of KTMers from the Netherlands and a German BMW family riding two-up with their kids (how cool is that?!).