Hitchin' the north of Iceland

Shockingly enough, in all my years of travel, i don't recall seeing a travel brochure saying something like, "Come to Northern Iceland in the middle of winter. Hitchhiking the 270 kms to the remote Eastern Fiordlands will be a blast in sub-zero temperatures and ungodly short days!" Well, maybe it's not that surprising. But people who know me would likely say "Sounds like something Joe would do" And they'd be right. Because during my rather extended layover in Iceland, that's exactly what i did.

I started my trip in Iceland's second largest city, Akureyri. A booming town who recently had massive celebrations to welcome their 17,500th inhabitant. This might not qualify as a metropolis in the rest of the world, but for Iceland it's big. Summer tourism here is a-plenty. Cruise ships fill the harbour with wide-eyed foreigners looking for a taste of the vast Icelandic wilderness. Whale watching, bird spotting and other such outdoorsy activities are all organized. For those hoping for a more cultural pursuit, the town has a couple of cute little museums and galleries to check out. That's all in the summer. I was here in January. Most of the museums were closed and there were no tours to be taken. But the people were friendly enough, if not a little concerned that i had a dumb-ass travel agent who was genetically incapable of reading a calender. However, there are a few bright spots in the northern, winter darkness. Akureyri has one of, if not THE, best ski resort in the country. And there are more than a few pub and clubs to enlighten even the dimmest of evenings. So i enjoyed a few drinks (my Icelandic brethren partaking in more than just "a few"). The next morning, with a ideally suited cloudy mind and uneasy stomach, i headed to what i picked as the best spot in town to find a ride east.

My goal was the Fiordlands some 270 km to the east. More specifically, i planned to base myself out of the town of Egilstaðir, the only remote resemblance of civilization that far east. I perched myself at the crossroads of Highway 1 (aka the Ring Road), a highway which circumnavigates the country. Even with -10C, enthusiasm was high. There wasn't any wind or snow and the sun was finally starting to crest at around 10:30 when my first ride picked me up. Árni was a builder heading some 60km to his fixer-upper summer house to do some fixer-upping. He dropped me off where he thought i might be able to get a lift, which to me more resembled "the middle of freakin' nowhere". But who was i to argue with Icelandic logic? Sure enough, before i could put on my 5th layer of clothing, Ólöf was there to bring me to a town, another 50km down the highway, whose name I never did learn. That's where it all went pear shaped. As driver's passed, about 1 every 30 minutes, they made some sort of frantic hand gestures which could have been interpreted as either A: I'm turning left B: I think you're an axe murderer or C: I'm suffering from an epileptic seizure, send help. Whatever they meant, no one stopped. After 2 hours of shivering on the side of the road, the cars suddenly dried up. "Dried up" being a step down from the previous "hardly existent". Eventually, a local came out of the nearby cafe, and in near perfect English (bless the Icelandic for their English!) he told me that the semi-finals of the European handball championships were on TV. Seeing how Iceland was playing, some 95% of the population would be watching TV instead of looking for long-haired Canadians standing on the side of the road. The suggestion was made that waiting inside was much better than freezing outside. Who was I to argue with Icelandic logic? But after a crushing defeat to France, i headed back out to my spot, easily recognizable by the concentric footprints left in the snow. As the sun started to set, at 3 pm, my hopes began to dim too. The cafe lady, who had previously bought me a sympathy coffee for my poor choice in travel agent, suggested that if no cars came, i could check into the local B&B. I had come to trust the Icelandic logic, and headed for the hotel. Tómas and his wife made for excellent hosts, and the outdoor, naturally heated jacuzzi was a perfect way to end day one. Although only making it less than half the distance i had hoped.

The next morning I had a plan B. The bus (one of 3 weekly) would be passing through whatever town i was in, around 1pm. I figured i could exercise my thumb for a couple of hours. But if met with the same glorious success as the day before (note the sarcasm), i could just catch the incredibly overpriced public transport. That is, if it was actually running. My B&B host were of little help boosting my confidence as they were sure that no one would be driving on a Sunday morning. Icelandic logic is a bitch sometimes. But i layered up and headed out despite their best efforts. After a mere 30 seconds of waiting, the first car of the day stopped and offered me a ride 3 kms up the road. Big help! Instead i opted to wait. And not 5 minutes later, i was picked up by a local school teacher, his wife and their very blond child, who were not only going as far as i needed, but further. So as not to seem too greedy, i told them I'd get off at my intended destination. The ride was nice. I learned a lot about Iceland from the fluent English driver (Bless the Icelandic English!) And apparently was super lucky to see a couple herds of reindeer. Until eventually, my destination was in sight.

The town of Egilstaðir, isn't exactly what one might call a bustling mega-city. But it has anything a weary traveller might be looking for. A sandwich shop (Subway to be exact), ATMs and an airport as an escape plan. And i was no dummy. I had previous contacted a local CouchSurfer to arrange a couch, proving i was playing with a full deck of cards (or at the very least a full herd of reindeer). A quick phone call, Ingunn and her very blond 9 year-old daughter were there to the rescue. They lived 20 kms out of town (in the direction i had fought so hard to come from). The peace and quiet of their place was just what i needed after all the peace and quiet of the empty Northern Icelandic highways.

But really, getting to Akureyri is a pain. The bus from Reykjavik is 10,400 ISK. So it actually works out cheaper to fly. Alternatively, there's a ride sharing website that might help out. Sharing the gas money is infinitely cheaper than either previously mentioned methods. Hitchhiking not recommended.