I'm sitting in England thinking about our 9 days in Iceland. We covered over two thousand kilometres in the land of fire and ice, alas, none of it on two wheels, but I was always on the lookout for motorcycle culture and there is no shortage of it on Iceland. In a future post I'm going to hammer out all the advice I've garnered from our Icelandic reconnaissance. You see a lot of BMW GSes on Iceland. Viking Biking rents them out of Reykjavik and a ferry delivers them from mainland Europe on the east coast. The adventure bike is the perfect motorcycle genre for Iceland as the roads vary from smooth tarmac to potholed hard dirt, and everything in between. On our second day I discovered another side of Icelandic motorcycling culture. The big-twin cruiser rider can also be found here, albeit in much reduced numbers. The Norse Riders Iceland Chapter are a mashup of your North American patch club with viking imagery. Like every other biker I've talked to, they look rough but are the nicest people when you chat with them. Later that day we were making tracks back to Keflavik Airport to return the rental car when we came across some massive lava fields in the south west of the island. We'd been driving 20 minutes at a time without seeing traffic either way, and this was during the height of tourist season when a number of people had asked me if we should be going there then. If you like empty roads, you'll love Iceland. Through the lava fields eventually came two GSes making time on the empty, winding roads. I can only imagine the smiles on those riders' faces. Even in the capital of Reykjavik you're looking at something the size of a small North American town. Traffic moves all the time and there are seldom any backups. Out in the country you're making tracks all the time with sporadic traffic at worst. You're driving on the right, so you've got none of the headaches involved in riding in the UK or Australia/NZ, and the drivers themselves are polite and efficient. If you pull up behind a slower moving vehicle they'll turn on their right indicator when it's safe for you to pass. We made good time in a hatchback and then a mini-van with six people and luggage; on a bike it'd be heaven.
This left me wondering what I'd most enjoy riding in Iceland. The Tiger I've got sitting in a garage back home would be the ideal weapon - able to make good use of tarmac but able to manage gravel and packed dirt/potholes. Iceland is adventure bike nirvana. A couple of days later we were out near Lake Myvatn and came across a couple of Germans on KTMs. With their light weight soft panniers and nimble bikes capable of handing any rough stuff, these enduros would be another good choice for riding Iceland.
Those KTMs slice down the valley of the Krefla Geo-thermal power plant (Iceland's main source of electricity and heating is green/geo-thermal energy).
On our first day with two families, 3 kids and a minivan, we did what all Canadians do and covered a lot of miles, all while repeatedly ignoring the satnav.
The vast majority of this drive was on tarmac, but the satnav kept telling us to turn back on the north shore of the peninsula and we soon found out why. There were over 100kms of gravel roads that soon devolved into hard parked pot-holed earth roads. While battling those roads you're also wrapping around fjords and experiencing blind corners at fifteen degree inclines. It's beautiful, but it's a tough road, especially if you're still hundreds of kilometres from where you're going to lay your head that night. We saw a number of campers just pull up in a fjiord for the night to enjoy the quiet and the view. It'd be a challenging ride on an adventure bike, but you'd never forget the scenery. Based on how exhausting the car ride was, I'd suggest 2 full riding days to do this on a bike, and be ready for some technically challenging roads on day two.
Snaesfellsyokel: a stratovolcano in a land of rift built shield volcanoes. There is a road across the back of it, if you dare. Rental cars are restricted from using F roads, and considering how rough some of the 'main' roads where, F roads must be quite technical.
Your typical busy Icelandic summer road - if you like the view you'll get a new one like this every ten minutes.
Lava fields
1st day in Iceland: driving Canadian style (huge distances, various road surfaces)...
Taken five minutes past midnight - that's pretty much as dark as it gets - dusky.
Riding in Iceland isn't an oddity. You'll meet people from all across Europe exploring the continent's last real frontier. Whether you're a cruiser, a sport or an adventure rider, you'll find your people here on two wheels enjoying some Jurassic Park quality landscapes and empty, sinuous roads. If you're into exploration of any kind, Iceland delivers.
A 4x4 off-road ready camper van? Yep, saw that (parked on black lava sand at the base of a cinder volcano!)
This couple were pros. Their packing was exceptionally organized and the next morning they were up in a light rain in full waterproofs and gone before 8am.
Every once in a while events conspire to drop you out of the world's daily routine. As everyone else is scurrying to work with worry lines on their faces I was disappearing into the countryside on two wheels, unfortunately the Weathernetwork had gotten the forecast wrong and my day of George was going to be more like Scott to the antarctic.
I knew it was going to be cold in the morning, but it was supposed to warm up to double digits later in the day. Anything over 5°C and I can go all day, but under that core temperature eventually gets to me. I got over to the Forks of the Credit before 9:30am and it was still only just above freezing. Higher Ground on a weekday morning is a magical place full of millionaire retirees and trophy wives; I like to soak up the vibe.
"I'm sorry, we're running out of change. Everyone keeps paying with hundreds," the girl at the counter apologized as an elven woman with a lovely Mandarin accent who had just gotten out of her Range Rover tried to pay for a coffee.
As I warmed my hands on a coffee (the heated gloves were warding off frostbite but not keeping them warm), a group of conservative retirees sitting on fat piles of cash (they all arrived in German SUVs or touring sedans) were lamenting the lack of gumption in their millennial children, all of whom were described as directionless and unwilling to make the kind of money their parents did. "By the time I was that age I already had kids and owned my own house!" one outspoken gentleman declared, "and we worked hard for every penny!" Of course, back then the pennies weren't all being held by a generation that proceeded them. The other favourite topic was 'those damned liberals'. Man, do those people ever hate Justin Trudeau. If you ever have a chance to spend an hour on a weekday morning in Belfountain, you'll enjoy the 1% watching, just try not to gag on their sense of entitlement.
Warmed up on excellent coffee and with sensation in my extremities again, I headed back out into a one degree warmer day. At this point we'd already missed the forecast by a couple of degrees, and it wasn't going to get better. I rode up and down a completely empty Forks of the Credit, enjoying the curves without worrying about any four wheeled chicanes. On my way back I pulled off on the side road to Brimstone. The Credit River was spring runoff swollen and looked spectacular. A kingfisher was working the river further up but never came close enough to catch on the camera.
I eventually wound my way up the single track road to where it ends. As I sat there with the engine off a dozen wild turkeys crossed the path a couple of hundred yards ahead of me up the closed trail; I dropped the kick stand and grabbed the camera.
These things were enormous! They picked their way through the forest looking very prehistoric. After ten minutes of turkey watching I walked back to the Tiger and packed up the camera. Before I got on the road again I needed let that coffee go, so I stepped off the trail into the woods. Have you ever had that feeling that you're being watched? Standing there rather exposed, I felt that prickle and looked around to see the massive lead turkey not five feet away watching me intently - I almost jumped out of my skin. He looked at me. I looked at him. I finished up and he just stood there watching me climb out of the ditch. He then turned around majestically and walked back up the path where his crew where waiting for him before leading them away up the hill. My advice is do not mess with that turkey.
After my close encounter of the turkey kind I headed north, following the escarpment's winding roads. Spring runoff was a theme of this trip with all of the streams and rivers swollen with melted snow. Up in Hockley Valley I fought the urge to keep riding the roller coaster and stopped to grab some images of the exposed red clay.
When I got back on the road it was behind a pile of traffic backed up behind a pensioner on their daily Tim Horton's coffee run. Rather than fight the demographic I took a right hand turn up Hurontario Street. Down where I grew up Hurontario is the main drag through a city of half a million people. Up in Hockley it's a single lane, twisty dirt road that winds its way up the escarpment. The three older guys following the line of traffic on the paved road on massive Harleys got to keep enjoying the parade, but I was able to turn onto that dirt trail on my Swiss Army knife-like multi-purpose bike and enjoy some solitude.
I rounded a corner to find a Dufferin road works van on the side of the road. He waved me through as he was just removing the road closed sign from the winter. The gravel track coming out of the river crossing is very steep and untended. Getting up it in the winter would be a challenge for anything on wheels. He told me I was the first one on the road this year, which felt a lot more special than the tarmac parade I'd left behind.
I'd originally intended to bomb up Highway 10 for a stop and then ride back down through Mono Centre where I still wish we'd bought a house; this back route up Hurontario was better in every way. The Tiger is such a capable road bike that I keep thinking about going with purely road biased tires next time around, but unexpected turnoffs like this are why you keep a multipurpose tire on the thing; the Metzelers handled the soft gravel and mud with ease, even on the unpassable hill. Lightness is the goal off road, but these big adventure bikes are surprisingly capable if you're conscious of their size and don't try and ride them like a mountain bike.
It's only about a hundred and twenty miles, but in freezing temperatures it's an adventure!
Winding my way north through the Hockley Highlands put further lie to the weather forecast. Rather than warming up to ten degrees it instead dropped back down to three degrees above zero, and the wind was picking up. Up and down the rollercoaster that is Airport Road across the Niagara Escarpment, I eventually found my way to Side Road 20 and the backdoor to River Road.
With blue, icicle fingers I unbuckled my helmet and cracked my frozen knees as I ungracefully dismounted in the Terra Nova Public House parking lot. The sky had gotten darker and what had been sporadic, light rain on my visor earlier now looked distinctly flurry like. I staggered inside with my nose running and a wild look in my eye. They quickly got me sorted out with soup and what may be the best roast beef sandwich I've ever had. The TNPH is one of those places that are common where I'm from (Norfolk, England) but rare in Ontario - a pub with character that looks like it grew out of the ground and has always been there. As the heat worked its way back into me and my blood started pumping again, I could feel the zombification recede.
My vague plan was to work my way up the escarpment, perhaps all the way to the southern shore of Georgian Bay, but my photo/warm-up stops and the general misery of the weather made me aware of the fact that I'd reached the apex of my journey in Terra Nova. As I was looking over Google Maps the day before I'd worked out twenty one of the least boring kilometres you could ride in Southern Ontario, so the new plan after lunch was to do the loop both ways and then head back home.
Using TNPH as the start/end point, the idea was to hit the windiest parts of River Road and then come back around on the most interesting roads available. It takes about fifteen leisurely minutes to make the loop, but when you're not in a corner you're enjoying elevation changes and some beautiful escarpment scenery.
Reinvigorated from my roast beef sandwich I did the loop backwards to scope it out and then forwards before following River Road one last time back out of the valley and onto a long and windy ride home.
You seldom spend much time on the crown of your tire. Riding a motorcycle feels like flying most of the time, but bending one into a corner has a multiplying effect on that goodness. When you aren't leaning into corners you're enjoying some whoopdeedoo elevation changes and the scenery is about as good as it gets, even on a winter-like early spring day. You'd do a lot worse than making the ride up to Terra Nova for this bit of pavement. After a couple of loops all the warmth from lunch was long blown away and I was dreading coming back out of the sheltered valley I'd been enjoying. A last ride down River Road to Horning's Mills (another place I wish we'd bought a house) had me ignoring the swollen streams because I didn't want to stop the roller coaster ride. What did finally bring me to a stop was the overflowing waterfall out of the mill pond in Horning's Mills. After this last stop I made my way through the quiet village and up onto the Shelburne Highlands where fields of wind turbines do their business. Up on the heights sixty kilometre per hour gusts were knocking me around in addition to the plunging temperature wind chill. The partially sunny high of ten had turned into a cloudy and windy high of three. The windmills were spinning fiercely as I passed through them, and that's when the snow started. A few flakes suddenly turned into reduced viability as snow snakes eddied across the pavement. I clung to the heated grips but the blasting northern winds hitting me in the side meant double the wind chill. I couldn't go much further like this. I ducked behind the windshield when I could, grimly soldering on as the sky turned metallic and the wind gusts increased to over seventy kilometres per hour. I usually make the sixty-six kilometre push back home from Horning's Mills to Elora in about an hour, but not this time. Riding into Grand Valley I knew there was a coffee shop on the main street and for the second time that day I staggered into a warm shop with a running nose and a wild look in my eye, this time with snow on me. Half an hour later, and while snow swirled around the trusty Tiger outside, I'd restored feeling to my fingers and caffeinated myself for the final leg of what had turned into a much shorter and more difficult ride than I'd planned. As I walked outside an old guy coming in looked me up and down and said, "nice day to be out on a bike..." "All I can say is that The Weather Network lied to me!" I replied. He laughed. South of Grand Valley I was in the Grand River valley and off the Shelburne Highlands, which meant a break from the chronic wind and snow. Heading south also meant the wind was at my back instead of trying to dismount me. I finally got my frozen carcass home and stood in front of the fireplace forever, trying to get heat back in me.
After feeling returned I discovered my wedding ring had fallen off my senseless fingers at some point when I pulled my gloves off. We're nineteen years married this summer and I've never lost the ring before. I couldn't find it in the obvious places so emailed my various stops hoping it had showed up. It took a second search the next morning when my brain had warmed up to find the ring in the bottom of my bag where it had obviously fallen out of my gloves at some point; good save there. As painful as it was, I still feel like this trip cleared away the cobwebs of a long Canadian, caged winter and let me look upon the world in a way that any car trip wouldn't. I didn't just go for a drive, I did something genuine and difficult and have a tale of trophy wives, dinosaurs and snow snakes to tell from it. If it was easy everyone would do it. Some other pictures from the trip:
Over the Credit River watching kingfishers
Hockley Valley Road.
At The Terra Nova Public House ready for another lap.
Harleys are great on the road, but that's the only place you'll ever use one. Right after this I turned onto gravel and avoided the pensioners parade.
Winter runoff in Hockley River.
Horning's Mills Run Off.
If you like the twisties, the loop out of Terra Nova is a keeper.
I've been stuck on the Ford Transit Van probably due to my Guy Martin fixation, but there are other choices for a motorcycle carrying vehicle. I'd been looking at the full sized, extended Transit that is lucky to break 20mpg, but the Transit Connnect is a smaller, more frugal van that will just fit the Tiger while getting more than 30mpg. It's also on the road for thousands less than the big one.
The Dodge Ram Promaster City cargo van is another choice in the smaller van category. It seems to beat the Transit in cargo size (the Tiger fits inside it and it's likely to be the largest bike I'd ever transport). It also gets the best mileage. Comes in yellow too! Nissan makes the NV200. It's the smallest in terms of dimensions and engine (a 2.0l 4 cylinder), and gets the best mileage. The Tiger wouldn't fit height or length wise in it, but a smaller bike would.
Looking at the three, I think the Dodge gets the nod, though the Transit Connect is within a whisker of it in every category and it starts quite a bit cheaper than the Dodge:
Every one of these manufacturers build a next-size up industrial version of these models. Nissan makes the NV Cargo, which comes with a big V6 or V8 and gets 20mpg. The fully sized Ford Transit is similar. Dodge makes the Ram Promaster which comes with an optional 3.0l eco-diesel that gets an impressive 21/29mpg in a big vehicle. If efficiency is the goal, that big Dodge is in a class of its own. Similar mileage to the little guys but in a van that I could pretty much stand up in and would carry not one by two Tigers.
It too comes in stunning yellow. A nice Mechanical Sympathy screen on there and I'd be off to winter motorcycling trips, track days and picking up old bikes! I think I might be over my Ford Transit fixation, but the whole van thing ain't cheap. Perhaps I can engineer a change to a cage that offers a lot of utility instead of just being what I drive when I can't ride.
This one's got 5k on it with the balance of warranty for $33k. It still handily swallows the Tiger with inches to spare. That'd do...
The dream March Break trip? Load the Tiger into the back of the trusty Ford Transit Van and head south to a place where the weather won't suck all week; it will here. While snow is flying during the most pointless school break in Ontario, I'd be driving one thousand kilometres south to Virginia to chase the waterfalls my cousin suggested in January.
The drive down has us doing an eleven hour slog to Roanoke, Virginia on some back roads through the Allegheny Forest and down through the Adirondacks into the Appalachian Mountains before finally landing at the Hampton Inn off Interstate 81 just outside of Roanoke.
Once in Roanoke we'd put our feet up for the night and then take one of three routes over the next three days.
The weather is lovely: mid-high teens all week, rather than the zero degree snow we've got going on here all week. Yeah, it'd be cool, but it wouldn't be painful, and the roads would be salt free and winding through the mountains. To top it all off those waterfalls would be plump from all the run off. It'd be a photography and media making dream. The mountains would be blooming in early spring and I'd have the cameras on hand to catch that moment on two wheels. Each day we'd loop back to Roanoke before heading out in a different direction the next day. Thanks to all the mountain roads there would be virtually no overlap between loops with each offering unique sites. Having the same base camp also means the bike will be light on gear and ready to explore the mountains. Leaving on a Monday morning, we'd be in Roanoke Monday night and ready for a Tuesday-Wednesday-Thursday of motorcycle riding from waterfall to waterfall before making the ride back north into the snow and darkness on Friday.
It's not a crazy expensive week. Under five hundred bucks for hotel then gas and food money. Two long distance highway days would be all about gas and quick food stops. $200 would feed the van, another $60 would cover the bike. Five days of food on the road could probably be done for $250. All in that's a thousand dollar holiday. The three days in Virginia would be all about slow lunches and dinners and riding between photogenic waterfalls. Of course, the ongoing issue is not having the bike delivery system. Mid-winter isn't the worst time to be a motorcyclist in Canada. The worst time is the end of the off season when the snow is fading but the winter weather hangs on week after week, prolonging the caged life.
Even in the capital of Reykjavik you're looking at something the size of a small North American town. Traffic moves all the time and there are seldom any backups. Out in the country you're making tracks all the time with sporadic traffic at worst.
The vast majority of this drive was on tarmac, but the satnav kept telling us to turn back on the north shore of the peninsula and we soon found out why. There were over 100kms of gravel roads that soon devolved into hard parked pot-holed earth roads. While battling those roads you're also wrapping around fjords and experiencing blind corners at fifteen degree inclines. It's beautiful, but it's a tough road, especially if you're still hundreds of kilometres from where you're going to lay your head that night. We saw a number of campers just pull up in a fjiord for the night to enjoy the quiet and the view.
