Reunion in Hveragerði

Trails shaped by fire and rain

Our first stop: Hveragerði. From here, Magne runs his base, Icebike Adventures – low-key, functional, close to the mountains.

After just a few kilometers, it’s obvious: something has grown. More trails. Better connections. Smoother flow. Yet the raw character remains. Black lava rock under our tires, surprisingly grippy – even in the rain.

And rain is what we get. Iceland doesn’t welcome us with postcard weather. The wind hits sideways, drizzle moves horizontally. But that’s part of it. The conditions challenge us without breaking us.

In the evening, we ride up into the Reykjadalur valley. Hikers grind their way up the gravel road while we glide upward with support. A little later, we sit in the hot river. Cold air. Warm water. Heavy legs. That’s enough.

Sheep as Trail Builders

Highlands over hotspots

Magne just says, “Follow the sheep.”

It sounds like a joke. It isn’t. Many of the best lines into the highlands have been shaped over years by animals. Narrow paths, logically carved into the terrain, surprisingly rideable.

The Icelandic highlands open for only a few months each year. Once the gravel roads are clear, plans turn into reality. We head toward Landmannalaugar. River crossings. Rough tracks. Focus. Out here, it’s not about speed – it’s about timing.

Between rhyolite mountains, steaming fumaroles and black lava fields, one thing becomes clear: Iceland doesn’t stage itself. It simply exists. Vast. Unfiltered.

We ride sections of the Laugavegur trail, sharing the openness with hikers and wind. In the evening, we sink into a natural hot pool near camp. The body tired. The mind quiet.

Instagram vs. Reality

Múlagljúfur in backlight

A detour takes us to Múlagljúfur Canyon. A social media icon – quieter in reality than expected.

The climb is technical. Without motor support, it would be a pushing session. At the top, the view drops into a canyon invisible from the Ring Road. The descent is short, intense, precise. A trail that lingers.

A valley that doesn’t need to prove anything

Þórsmörk

Our final major stop: Þórsmörk. The approach is rough, the river crossings deep. Iceland makes it clear who sets the rules.

We start toward Fimmvörðuháls, with views of Eyjafjallajökull and the glacier tongues of Mýrdalsjökull. Narrow trails cut through moss-covered slopes. Switchbacks demand full focus.

We pause on a rocky outcrop. The valley below. Shifting light above. No noise. No signal. No distraction.

Here it becomes clear what has changed – and what hasn’t. Infrastructure is more professional. The offer broader. But nature still dominates. Nothing is given for free.

And that’s exactly why every kilometer feels earned.

Conclusion

Coming back to see differently

This wasn’t a comparison between then and now. It was a shift in perspective.

Iceland has grown as a bike region.
More trails. More options. More structure.

But the essence remains:
Wind as resistance. Lava as ground. Water as contrast.

We came back to see how Iceland had changed.
And realized it was us who had changed most.