There are places in this world so adventure-famous and boasting scenery so seemingly picture-perfect that you just quietly think to yourself, no way: it can’t all be true. It’s got to be some clever photo editing, or at the very least, the incredible images you see are merely highlights. A place can’t be that scenic and that stunning that consistently.
Well, Iceland can. Everything you’ve ever heard about Iceland is true: it really is as beautiful, as rugged, and as otherworldly as you think (they also do eat fermented shark and the beer really does cost $10). As bucket list destinations go, one might debate whether Ushuaia is worth it and whether the Death Road in Bolivia is really that dangerous, but when it comes to Iceland? It is a must-ride, and that’s coming from someone convinced “must-ride” is a very silly notion to begin with.
Of Locals and Huskies
I ended up riding Iceland in August by pure chance, as part of the MOTOURISMO video team joining a Ride with Locals tour taking us to the Westfjords on Husqvarna 701 motorcycles. Ride with Locals is an Icelandic off-road and dual-sport motorcycle tour company offering 50/50 and pure enduro tours all over the country, and they’re hellbent on designing experiences that would be tough to recreate independently.
Don’t get me wrong, you absolutely can ride Iceland on your own, and there are several motorcycle shipping options to explore; however, if you’re only planning to ride there for a week or so, an organized tour is a pretty great option given the overall costs and the intimate local knowledge Ride with Locals are famous for.
Based in Selfoss, Ride with Locals are, well, locals, and they’re obsessed with off-road riding. They’re constantly out there scouting trails and new routes, and they know Iceland like the back of their hand having spent years and years braaping around the country on Husqvarna 701 and KTM 690 bikes.
Why the bigger enduros rather than more agile 450’s? On or off the road, distances here are long, and the Huskies felt like the perfect choice – especially when going flat out on those long, desolate, hard-packed dirt roads uncoiling around the fjords and highlands. For me, the Husky 701 is a much-coveted Future Bike, so having the opportunity to test it out on Icelandic terrain was a dream come true… but then, so was the scenery.
The Fjord Carousel
Having started out on twisty tarmac, we soon crossed into another world of black lava fields, wild Icelandic ponies watching curiously as we picked our way through a lonely, rugged landscape dotted with rocks and caverns that didn’t seem like they belonged on this planet. Soon, the black earth and rocks gave way to vast open fjord country, blue skies contrasting against the red and green moss coating the cliffs to be replaced by barren, windswept highlands that could have served as a film set for a Mars exploration movie.
At some point, I began to feel like I was just standing on the pegs motionless as a mad carousel of jagged shoreline, mountain, and fjord scenery swirled around me in an ever-increasing pace. Riding Iceland, the “wow” factor is so relentless your brain just refuses to process it all at once, and the Ride with Locals crew isn’t messing about when it comes to distances and pace. You braap – a lot – and there’s barely any time to stop and take in the views, but somehow, the overwhelm just works.
I feel like I’ve seen so much of Iceland despite putting in some serious miles, and I’ve enjoyed the Husky thoroughly all while staring at the unbelievable scenery: contradicting, yet somehow true.
Northern Lights and English-speaking Grandmas
Out-of-this-world scenery and Huskies aside, I was very curious what Iceland itself was like – as a country, as a people, as a culture. Although we didn’t have much time for breaks, cultural immersion, or longer interactions with locals besides our fearless tour leaders Daniel, Arnar, and Eva, I did manage to catch a glimpse or two into what Iceland is like up close and personal.
The country’s capital city Reykjavik has a vibe of some remote, frontier Arctic town with minimalist, utilitarian architecture, starfish winking from beneath the clear blue harbor waters and seals poking their heads out in the bay, but it’s also as quirky and modern as it gets with rainbow-painted sidewalks and craft beer breweries dotting the Old Town.
Tourists strut about Reykjavik clad in Patagonia and Icewear from head to toe nursing their expensive lattes while locals sport faded Nirvana t shirts and ride bicycles (even the President of Iceland cycles to work); Iceland has just 360,000 inhabitants but welcome over a million tourists each year, so there’s little wonder why Icelanders speak fluent English… but it isn’t just Reykjavik. During the tour, we stayed in some fairly remote places where the hotel is literally a grandma’s house converted into a guesthouse, and said grandma still mans the reception armed with knitting needles and a whirring 2000’s desktop computer. Nonetheless, even the grannies speak English perfectly, and although Icelanders are people of few words, you’ll get friendly advice just about everywhere you go.
And everywhere is usually remote. What struck me the most about Icelandic landscape – its stunning beauty aside – was how unbroken it was. No electricity lines, no houses, almost no trace of any human activity save for a lonely off-road trail stretching out across vast green wilderness, cliffs plunging into the icy waters of the sea with no fishing boats or villages in sight, blue fjords merging with the horizon… if there were three words to describe Iceland in a nutshell, it’s solitude, tranquility, and something of a Ray Bradbury’s Chronicles of Mars about the place – and the people.
Bikes and tour: Ride with Locals