The disappeared French Legionnaire, who melodramatically held a knife to my throat, tried to tell me I had the wrong car for the Sahara [TBB 3.5] but I was too young and proud, or stupid, to take much notice. Now I’m planning to take an old bike with almost no suspension to one of the crinkliest bits of congealed, fractured, glacier-infested lava in the northern hemisphere. Am I now too old and proud, or, indeed, stupid, to remember this basic lesson?
It’s never gratifying to admit fault and when curiosity drew me to see what had been published on the net about motorcycling in Iceland, it was sobering, to say the least. Only ordained off-road enthusiasts and a few hog riders, sticking to the so-called Ring Road in summer, could be found. My plans fit neither of these categories, at the moment.
If I'm honest, a bit of the the old ego has crept in here and melded with a story I once read about this daft-as-a-brush Honda CG125 adventurer who attempted to ride to the arctic. It was such a ridiculous idea that it stayed with me all these years and probably catalysed this plan. But right now, on the cusp of my decision about when to go, I'm having a timely moment of doubt.
Our one and only weekend in Iceland demonstrated that the weather is fickle and driving conditions can be dangerous. Even major routes change from blacktop to dirt at a moments notice. The Black Bullet is heavy and it doesn’t handle, I wouldn’t like to guess what damage half a ton of hot, pointy iron would do to flesh and bone if it came down on top of me. I'm pretty sure I won't be lying there pinned to the ground laughing it off.
Isolation in these circumstances is another thing. Mike says I should find a buddy to go with, particularly if it's really going to be a phone-free trip. It's infuriating to admit that far from being sensible I am close to deluded, believing that will and desire can overcome stone and ice. Two of these can definitely kill you, so it would seem sensible to anyone, surely, to factor them in. Travelling in/on the wrong vehicle for the terrain is not a mere detail, it’s a fundamental issue and one I've wilfully overlooked.
I've emailed an Icelandic bike rental outfit for some advice and am going for a hot bath to melt this bum vibe. The Iceland trip may not be over but this attack of pragmatism is like flicking the lights on at the end of a boozy night and it's making my head hurt.
Photo: U-turn at Gulfoss, Iceland
