The Other Side of Bolivia: The Lowlands Part 1

This past week, for our final group excursion, we headed east to the department of Santa Cruz. It is easy to think of Bolivia as an Andean country - all of the national government is located in the Andes, the two largest indigenous groups are Andean in origin, and until now we had spent all our time there. But, in reality, only one third of the country is located in this mountainous region, and the rest is tropical Amazonia and the dry Chaco. So it makes sense that for our longest trip we would descend to the hot, humid region of Santa Cruz, where life is entirely different.

For the first two days, we lived with families in a small Chiquitano community, six hours from the big city of Santa Cruz. The Chiquitanos are one of the larger original indigenous groups in the area. We lived in groups of two or three because the town was hosting the Plurinational Games while we were there, so many people were very busy with that. Basically kids from ten different schools descend upon the village and compete in various sports such as soccer, volleyball and running for five days. It was quite a scene!

Here is the "house" where Lex and I slept. It is really the weaving space of our host mom, Mercedes, but they hung up hammocks for us inside to sleep in. And much better to be in a structure that lets the air through - the breeze was the only thing that provided any relief from the hot, sticky air!

I really enjoyed cooking with Mercedes and learning the traditional techniques that people there use. The kitchen is simple: a covered outdoor space with a small table, a fire spot and, the most used implement, the taku, which is basically a giant mortar and pestle used to mash meat, banana, yucca, rice, etc. 

Here is Mercedes with the taku. The first night we ate majadito, which is rice with shredded charque - a dried piece of beef that is boiled and then mashed in the taku. With boiled ripe bananas on the side. 

The cooking fire. A very simple and practical setup with three stones to hold the pot and wood pushed in gradually through the spaces in between. 

The next morning we ate masaco: boiled green bananas that are mashed and mixed with cheese (or more charque in our case because Lex, my fellow student, is lactose intolerant). It was delicious!

The banana mash in the taku. Because the bananas weren't ripe, the dish had a very mild flavor. 

We headed out to an area of cultivation after breakfast to harvest bananas and plant some crops. All the land is communally-held and everyone works together to cultivate crops and care for animals. They also started an agroforestry coffee project five years ago with help from the government, and everyone participates in the harvest and processing of the coffee beans. 

We hacked down a banana tree to harvest the hanging branch of bananas, then planted some corn:

And sugar cane:

We also got to suck on a few pieces of cane, which was delicous! It's hard to beat that natural sweet juice coming straight out of plant!

Their other crops include yucca, sweet potato and lots of fruit trees! Too bad the mangoes weren't quite ripe yet. 

In the afternoon, after a lunch of freshly-killed duck, we headed to the pond to cool off. Unfortunately we started sweating again the second we got out! Then we prepared the ingredients to make rice bread the next morning. For this we had to grind soaked rice in the taku and push it through a mesh screen to make flour:

Then we peeled, boiled and mashed yucca, to be added to the rice flour. 

The next morning, we headed to our neighbor's house to use her oven to bake the bread:

Mercedes had mixed all the ingredients together: rice flour, yucca, salt, water, oil and lots of cheese. There's really only one kind of cheese here in Bolivia, that has a bit of a sour flavor. I was really into for a while, but I kind of overdosed on it after a month or two!

Scooping out the batter onto pans lined with banana leaves - instead of greasing the pan I think. Though the bread was incredibly oily so I can't imagine it sticking to anything! It was tasty, though very heavy for an already hot morning. We made trays and trays but I could only eat three! 

We spent our last few hours learning how to weave on the hanging loom that Mercedes uses:

The weaving is another initiative that began a few years ago to provide an economic opportunity to the women in the community. They make hammocks, bags and shawls mostly. In this photo, the thread has been naturally dyed with plants from the village. There are beautiful blues, purples, pinks, oranges and browns. It was fun to try our hand at the process and see how much care and practice it takes to make a tight, even weave!

The small section that Lex and I did. It would take two full days for Mercedes to complete this whole length!

She also showed me how she makes her own thread from cotton that the community cultivates. 

First, a process similar to carding wool, but using a bow of sorts to fluff the cotton. 

Then using a tool like a drop spindle, held between the toes, to spin the fibers into thread.

Even though this community visit was a bit short to really get a sense of the people and lifestyle, I enjoyed the time that we spent there. And I hope to try making some of the meals at home! Guess I'll have to carve a taku first!

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Iceland in Photos

For those who believe a picture is worth a thousand words, or for the illiterate. A bunch of photos of Iceland, including many that didn't make the cut for the day-by-day trip report.

Photo Gallery by QuickGallery.com

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Bike Touring Iceland: The end days

Day 9: Snaefellsjokull to Stykkisholmur (by bike and bus)
Day 10: Stykkisholmur to Reykjavik Airport (by bus)

Our plan for the end of the trip was to ride the north coast of the Snaefell peninsula to the largish town of Stykkisholmur, from whence we would take a bus to Reykjavik and then to the airport. However, when we were forced to turn back by the snow, the need to cycle around the base of Snaefellsjokull added about 50km to the distance to Stykkisholmur. We could have cycled the full distance, but it would have left us only one bus option to make our flights, and the buses have limited, unreservable, bike spaces. Consequently, we decided to take a bus for part of the route along the north coast as well, taking the pressure off entirely.

We slept and snoozed and breakfasted before emerging from the tent at around 11am. Back on the road, we decided to take a 15km detour to visit Ondverdarnes, the westernmost point in Iceland. Since Postyn and I have both done the Camino de Santiago which ends at Finisterre, the westernmost point in continental Europe. Ondverdarnes makes the claim of being the westernmost point in Europe, but actually, being so far west as to be on the North American continental plate, we weren't so sure! We had a strong headwind and the dirt road was heavily washboarded, making the riding unpleasant. The spot itself was nothing special, although there were cool lava rock formations. Some water-smoothed boulders were hundreds of feet from the water, meaning the place must get some serious storms! There, I discovered that my left-front pannier rack had broken -- sheared off where it bolts to the drop-out. So I removed that rack and pannier and strapped them on elsewhere.

Ondverdarnes -- the westernmost point in Europe? 

From there we cycled along to Hellisandur, which had a bus stop and a tiny shop. We bought lunch foods there. After the previous night's horror of a meal, we splashed out on such luxuries as pesto -- even though prices were high, maybe 50% more than in Reykjavik. We caught the bus soon after, and had a beautiful drive to Stykkisholmur, although it felt a shame to race through the beautiful landscape in a bus, rather than savoring it by bike. But most people who visit Iceland hardly get out of their vehicles. We arrived in late afternoon, shopped for food and then headed down to the harbor to make dinner, sans cooking. We had a delicious canned bean/ salsa/ veggie salad, topped with crushed tortilla chips. Our meal was very drawn out as we had a long talk with the FGS -- friendly German stranger.

Lighthouse at Stykkisholmur harbor, photo by Postyn

In any case it was tasty, and our mood was jovial. We played "lettuce chicken." We had bought a head of lettuce which turned out included the plant's roots in a tiny pot of soil. It didn't fit in our salad bowl (our one cook pot) so we ate it in bites on the side. We took turns taking bites to see who would give up first. I think it was me -- i didn't really enjoy the taste of dirt on my lettuce. We also coined several fun phrases, such as "cuddle my tuft" and "chafing my moorings." Their meaning is unclear, but the words "Well, cuddle my tuft!" were said, along with "That really chafed my moorings."

We biked out of town a ways to find a spot to camp, and had a beautiful sunset.

Sunset over the mountains on the north coast of the Snaefell Peninsula. Photo by Postyn, from his sleeping bag!

In the morning, we woke early in order to be first at the bus stop, knowing that the spots available for bikes were first-come-first-served. We were very early, so checked out the town campsite, and found next to the trash, lots of fuel canisters, including one with some fuel left, which we took. As we approached Reykjavik, it began to rain. On the bus ride, we figured out expenses for the trip. Including everything spent from landing to taking off, we spent an average of $23 per day. A chunk of this was spent on buses, but still, food was expensive in Iceland.


In Reykjavik, it was pouring. We ended up taking another bus into the center of town because it was available for free with our ticket to Reykjavik. We spent the afternoon at the Harpa Center, the big concert hall. We ate outside under the cover of one of it's overhangs, and then read and relaxed inside for many hours. The weather was wild: driving winds and heavy rain. As the weather improved, we headed out to buy postcards and check out a cool 3d map of Iceland at the town hall. We then went to the bus stop to catch a 4:00 bus to the airport, the last of the day. Because I had to leave very early the next day, there was no way to get there in time, with our bikes. When the bus arrived, the driver looked at our bikes and said -- you can't bring those. Gulp. Turns out the route to the airport is the only one in the whole country on which Iceland's bus company, Straetó, does not take bikes. We biked back to the tourist office and asked about options. They didn't know anything, but checked online the schedule of the private bus company we had taken on the way in -- and said we had just missed the last one. Thankfully, Postyn decided to check on his phone, and in fact there was another one at 8pm. We called and were told we could just get tickets on the bus, and that our bikes were no problem. We thus had another 4 hours to kill at the Harpa Center!

Lunch under the glass façade of the Harpa Center

When the bus arrived, the driver had switched to a smaller van because he had very few reservations. Thankfully he was very kind and managed to squeeze our bikes into the van -- but if any other passengers had tried to get on, there wouldn't have been space! We got to the airport just after 9:00, to find the floors littered with young people waiting, as we were, for early morning flights. Signs in the airport said "no cooking or camping on the premises." I guess its a common problem. We headed to the far end of the parking lot to cook dinner. Our fuel ran out again, but thankfully our pasta was almost cooked. At around 10:30pm, in strong wind and rain, we cycled 100m outside the gates of the airport, pushed our bikes a ways into the grass to the shelter of an earth mound, and pitched the tent. We were quite damp, and the planes overhead kept us awake for several hours. We woke up at 3:30, in the dark, not very well rested, packed up, and pushed our bikes cross-country to the Bila-hotel where we had paid to store our bike box. Although open 24 hours, it took a while to find the right guy, and we then had to search four different rooms of bags to find our box. It took until just before 5am to sort our gear and disassemble my bike. Postyn left his intact, as he planned to cycle to a nearby hot-spring for the morning, before his afternoon flight!

Heading to the airport check-in, I found an empty check-in station and used it to balance the weight of my hand luggage, bike box, and checked bag, as I knew I was within a kilo of my max allowable weight. I then got in line to check in for WOW airlines. It was terrible. At the beginning, there were only two staff to check in two flights, and so I spent nearly an hour in line. Postyn meanwhile made me breakfast and a pack lunch -- what a boss. With 45 min to departure, I had to race with my bike box to oversized luggage, where there was another line. After a hurried goodbye to Postyn, I ran upstairs to find yet another line, for security. Through that, I ran straight to my gate (of course, the farthest one in the whole airport) and got there, sweating, with 2 minutes before the gate closed. On the plane I went straight to the toilets to change out of my gross clothes, then spent the 3 hour flight talking to the woman next to me, a American doing a biology Phd at Cambridge. She was from the Adirondacks, and, amazingly, had just been to a wedding in Williamstown! Small world.

And that concludes an excellent adventure in Iceland! We explored only a very small corner of the country, and I would definitely go back!

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Bike Touring Iceland: Day 8

Lysahúll to Mt. Snaefell

The snowy slopes of Snaefellsjokull (photo by Postyn)

We got an earlyish start as we knew we had a big day ahead. We continued along the coast, stopping mid-morning at a beach where we had heard we could see seals. Indeed there were about a dozen seals on the rocks and in the water. On land they are ungainly oafs, in water, completely transformed.

The seals are the not-quite-rock-color lumps among the rock-colored lumps

We continued on to the little town of Arnastapi, known for its lava sea cliffs. We didn't know what to expect, but it was wild.

Organ Pipes and crashing waves at Arnastapi

There were numerous rock arches

Including this one. Photo taken by a nice English couple touring Iceland in their camper van

Arnastapi sits at the foot of Mt. Snaefell, a 1500m volcano that forms the Westernmost part of the eponymous peninsula, along which we had been cycling for the last few days. We knew we probably wouldn't be able to summit it, as it is heavily glaciated, but wanted to hike at least part way up. We headed up the dirt road leading to the shoulder of the peak, planning on hiking from the summit of the pass, then descending down the north side of the pass to get to a town, food, and a bus back to Reykjavik. We began climbing the dirt road, and it was immediately hard. Parts too steep to ride. But views gradually improving to spectacular levels. 

Nice view

Nicer view

 As we reached the shoulder, the winds increased and the temps dropped. Snaefellsjokull was shrouded in cloud -- we couldn't see the summit. However, looking up we got occasional views of a spur of rock a good ways up, visible in the center of the photo below.

The summit is on the right of the photo, hidden in cloud. Our goal was the rocky outcrop in the center.

At the summit of the pass, we stopped for a late lunch. Then we ditched the bikes and packed layers, food and water into our backpacks, and headed up. We initially stayed on the lines of exposed rock which run upwards. When these ran out, we walked on the snow. On the way up, the views got even better. We could see the route we had cycled over previous days, giving an excellent new perspective at the end of the trip. Lucy and I did something similar last summer in Norway, with a hike on our penultimate day.

Boom. This is why we like mountains.

Higher. The clouds were whipping along the side of the mountain, alternately revealing and exposing the view over the course several seconds. Photo by Postyn.

After an hour and a half or so, we came to the base of the rocky outcrop which had been our target. Climbing this was tricky as the loose volcanic scree slid with every step.

The summit was very windy, and cold enough to be partly covered in rime ice, in August. On the way up we knew we were walking on glacial ice because beneath the snow it was bright blue, and there were occasional cracks -- the beginnings of crevasses. These can be seen in the photo above, as thin lines in the snow.

Buffeted by wind on our "summit," I had to keep one hand on my head to stop my hat blowing off! Excuse my finger in the image; mittens and wide-angle-lens-selfies don't go well together.

Looking upwards, the ridge was exposed and began to look more crevassed. We decided to turn back. After working our way slowly down the volcanic scree of our summit outcrop, we regained the snow. In a stroke of absolute genius, Postyn suggested we glissade (French for "slide on your a$$") back down. This was brilliant fun, and we descended in 15 minutes what took us almost two hours to climb.

`
 After our outrageously fun descent -- a highlight of the trip -- we repacked our bikes and continued along the road. It was about 4:30 pm by this point. We had thought we were at the summit of the pass and thus were looking forward to a long descent. However, around the bend, the road continued upwards. Soon we came to a patch of snow covering the road, and had to dismount. This happened several times before we arrived, relieved, at the actual pass. Unfortunately, when we looked down the other side, all we could see was snow, disappearing into the clouds.

While there had been little snow on the way up, we now realized we were looking at the north-facing slope --considerably snowier. And we had been told earlier that this had been a record snow year for Iceland. 8m in some places. But still, a pass of this altitude closed in August? There were faint car tracks through the snow, so we set off on foot to see if we could follow them to the other side of the snow patch.However, the visibility was extremely poor. Without our own footprints to follow back, it would have been very easy to get lost.  In all, we spent an hour following various tracks across the snow, including a faint set of bicycle tires. We still hadn't found the other edge of the snow, and it was 6:30pm. We didn't fancy a night on the snow, so returned to the bikes, and headed back the way we came.

Faint tire tracks visible during a brief break in the cloud cover. The spike on the skyline at the right of the image is where we climbed. Photo is Postyn's

We were disappointed to have to turn back, but also concerned that we were almost out of food, and would have quite a way to go the next day before reaching the next town with food. However, the descent was stunning. The views were the same as on the way up, but we were facing the right direction this time. It ranks as one of the best descents of my life, but I was certainly thankful for my fat mountain bike tires and disc brakes. Postyn enjoyed the descent less than I did, particularly as he had a small crash on the way down.

 Once down, I noticed a sign at the base of the road saying "impassable." Whoops. But it was a grand adventure in any case!

Concerned to make some distance before camping, we kept riding. Postyn led at a tough pace. I struggled to keep up, and by 9:00, after probably 12 hours on the move, was ready to camp anywhere. Unfortunately, we were passing through Snaefell National Park, where camping is forbidden, and in any case the land on both sides was nearly bare lava. Around 9:30 we found a spot to camp, with the summit of Snaefellsjokull cloud free and still in the sun above us.

Campsite at the foot of Snaefellsjokull. Photo by Postyn.

For better or worse, our adventurous day was not yet over. We were almost out of food. We still had breakfast food. But for dinner, all we had was several packets of quick-cook rice, a sprinkling of couscous, bouillon cubes, butter and a whole onion. Also, our trusty fuel canister finally sounded just about empty when shook. Whoops. We decided to cook everything at the same time to minimize the chance that the fuel would run out part way through. Unfortunately, after 5 minutes, it did run out. Our onions were basically raw, and the rice was very crunchy. We were very hungry, so started eating. As it turns out, Postyn and I both hate raw onion, so after a few bites forced down, we started picking out the onion. On the plus side, the couscous was cooked, but on the minus side, the raw rice and overpowering onion flavor were disgusting.

How fitting of Iceland that one of the best day's adventure of my life ended with the worst meal of my life.

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The Rest of Our Excursion: La Paz and El Alto

After three nights on the Isla del Sol, we motored back to Copacabana (much warmer this time!) to head back to the city. The weather at 13,000 feet is quite interesting! The day morning that we arrived at the airport in El Alto, there was actually snow on the ground!

Apparently this was the first time that the program has ever arrived to snow!

The rest of that day was incredibly chilly, with thick clouds and threatening rain. The boat ride to the island left us all huddling for warmth, and, for the first time all semester, I was very glad to have my puffy down jacket with me! I put it on at 2 pm and never took it off again all day. The houses on the island do not have heat, because it isn't totally necessary - the sun heats everything up very effectively during the day - but on cloudy days, inside and outside are very cold. 

This didn't change much in going to La Paz. Still at very high altitude, the sun will burn you in minutes practically during the day, but the night feels like November or December in New Hampshire! So lots of layering and sunscreen were required. 

Looking down at the city of La Paz from the rim of the bowl in which it sits (El Alto is on the flat plain above La Paz) with the city's mountain, Illimani, in the distance. 

The landscape of La Paz is truly breathtaking. The highest mountains I have ever seen, forming the Cordillera Real, surround the city, making Cochabamba's mountains seem like little hills in comparison! And, while El Alto is situated on the flat altiplano, La Paz is all hills, and incredibly steep ones at that! It doesn't make it easy for those of us still acclimating to the altitude!

In our few days here, we visited a government ministry - of decolonization - Bolivia's fanciest restaurant, and a number of radical environmental, feminist and artistic groups. I really enjoyed visiting one community, called La Casa de Los Ningunos (the house of no one) which is a group of young environmentalists who are trying to live out the visions that they have for the world. Sound like anyone you know? It wa really nice to connect with some kindred spirits, see their growing permaculture efforts and eat their delicious vegetarian food. The first time I've ever had quinoa "sushi"! Their overarching goal is to "be happy," which I think is an excellent way to tie together all our dreams of a more just, sustainable, fulfilling world. 

We also toured a "cholet" in El Alto, which is a new architectural style that draws from indigenous Aymara symbols and cosmology to create outrageously fun buildings that house apartments and event spaces!

The ceiling of the event hall in the cholet that we visited. 

All of the cholets have extravagant facades and are five or six stories tall. A great contrast to all the one-story, reddish-brown buildings surrounding them! El Alto is one of the youngest, fastest-growing cities in the world. It was originally a suburb more or less of La Paz, but has now become its own city and is bigger in both population and area than La Paz. The people filling it are mainly Aymara, displaced miners and rural migrants. And they hold an immense amount of political power because of their strategic location that makes it possible to block off the capital city. We only got to spend a few hours there, not nearly enough time to learn about all of its complexities, but it sure is beautiful as well!

And it's totally flat, being on the altiplano, so, in contrast to La Paz, where I saw 2 bikes in 3 days, there is much greater potential for bike use:

A real bike path!

Speaking of bikes, I have decided that for my month-long independent project, I am going to stay in Cochabamba and research the biking culture here. Cochabamba used to be a city of bikes, but autos really took over in the late 80s/90s. However, in the past few years, a resurgence of bike use has begun, both as transportation and as serious mountain biking. So I think there will be a lot to learn! Plus it means I get to spend November riding my bike and hanging out with other cyclists, so I'm feeling pretty pleased. Expect to learn lots more about Bolivian biking soon!

Ciao,

Lucy

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Bike Touring Iceland: Days 6 and 7

Day 6: Bodadalur to Landbrotalaug

Day 7: Landbrotalaug to Lysahúll

In the morning, we biked west, alongside Hvammafjördur.

Biking next to Hvammsfjördur

It turned to dirt, and after about 25km, we turned inland and began climbing.

Beautiful, empty dirt climbing over the Snaefell peninsula

As we descended the other side, we were on the lookout for some lava caves shown on our map. There were many signs which we found difficult to interpret (never mind pronounce!). At one of them, we discovered this carnage of raw eggs. All over my backpack. 

In the end, we probably went straight past the lava caves, but there was no missing the weird lava formations lower in the valley. 

Wild lava towers flank the road

We turned onto a side road and followed it onto a jagged lava field carpeted in yellow colored moss. 

Moss lining a volcanic caldera

We spent an hour walking around, including exploring some shallow but incredibly sharp caves, and descending into the cone of an obvious volcano. 

From there we continued down to the coast, where we were looking for a natural geothermal pool we knew to be in the vicinity (recommended to us by a German family we had met a few days previously). After several wrong turns we found it. However the pool is very small, big enough for only 3 or 4 people, and was occupied by some icelandic folks. We resolved to wait it out. We biked off to find water, and meanwhile, a string of cars arrived! There were thus about a dozen people people waiting. Whoops. Some of them went over to a second (less cool!) pool we hadn't seen, but many left when they saw the crowds. We were committed, so got out our stove and began cooking dinner. After about half an hour, the Icelanders were ready to leave, and there was no one besides us waiting. We crossed the stream to the pool, carrying our partially cooked dinner, and got in. 

Cooking dinner in a natural geothermal pool!

The pool is a perfect hot tub temperature, and is actually formed of a sunken lava bubble (air bubble in volcanic rock) about 4ft deep. The opening of the pool is only about 4 feet across, but it widens under the surface.  To the east and west, the sides of the valley rose up to glacially-carved peaks. A perfect spot for dinner.

Selfie

 We spent about two hours in the hot pool, before camping nearby.

In the morning, we headed west along the coast, stopping at Gerduberg to check out some very cool lava columns. We also found delicious blueberries along the base of the wall. 

Once again, we were tempted to climb, but limited ourselves to chimneying up between a column and the main wall from which it had separated. 

From there we continued west, into a headwind, but were blessed with some sunshine! Our first since the morning we arrived in Reykjavik. We stopped at Okelda spring, which produces naturally carbonated water. The rationale for this stop was that we had just about run out of water purification drops, so needed to rely on trustworthy water sources. We rode fast on good pavement towards the naturally carbonated Lysahúll hot springs, and got there in the early evening, just in time to visit. The whole day we rode with dramatic light at views of mountains to our right. In the distance we caught a glimpse of Snaefellsjokull, the volcano at the end of the peninsula.

We were looking forward to the facilities of this more developed hot spring. By facilities, we meant showers. Getting wet is different from getting clean. Unfortunately, it was closed early on Sundays! We filled our water bottles at a beautiful stream coming straight off of the mountains, and then found a spot to camp, with a stunning view.

Windy but pretty!

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Bike Touring in Iceland: Day 4 and 5

Day 4: Húsafell Valley to Somewhere-on-Rt-60
Day 5: Somewhere-on-Rt-60 to Bodadalur

The aim of day four was two-fold. First, to make a good distance to Bodadalur, where we would finally be able to find a supermarket. Second, to avoid cycling on Rt 1, the busy ring road.

After a bit of a leisurely morning, we continued alongside the river where we had camped. We appreciated that the road was smooth, and that we didn't have a headwind. It was also quite pretty.

We stopped at another waterfall, and then around lunchtime (which we ate outside a very small church, which we calculated would seat around 30 people), turned off onto dirt for a long "shortcut" that would largely bypass Rt 1. This was a really excellent decision, the reasons for which will follow.

First, it was excellent riding on empty dirt roads, through rugged hills.

We had this section of dirt all to ourselves. Clearly Postyn took this photo...

Second, we passed a cool section of "organpipes," a type of hexagonal volcanic rock which forms naturally in some places. We spent some time messing around on them, wishing we could climb them.

Perfect hand-sized crack. Just a bit green.

Third, as we emerged from the hills, we spotted a house. Said house appeared to be empty, and had a hot tub out back. On an impulse, I jumped off the bike, and put my hand to the side of the tub -- it was hot. The house was empty (unfurnished) but since heat and electricity are basically free in Iceland, due to abundant geothermal resources, no-one had bothered to turn the hot tub off! So we stripped ourselves and the cover from the tub and spent almost an hour in somebody's hot tub. Such a luxury to be warm and relaxed.

There are other, more revealing versions of this photo, but I will keep things PG.

We hit Rt 1 in the early evening, and went a mile or two along it before turning off, uphill, onto route 60. We offered a ride to two hitchhikers, but they turned us down. Instead we continued climbing looking for water and a spot to camp. Both were in scarce supply as the river in the valley was well below the road, with very steep banks. And both sides of the road were fenced off, meaning no (legal) wild camping. Eventually we were able to get down to the river where a smaller stream converged, and then just above there, found a secluded spot to camp, in our very own glacial valley!

Postyn down in the river taking artsy photos

Like this 

But more like this

Nothing like a private glacial valley for your campsite

On the morning of day 5 we continued climbing up Rt 60, into the clouds. We then had a nice long descent, at the bottom of which we stopped for a snack, and consumed the last of our food. Here is Postyn describing what we had (turn your volume up):

Transcript: Free range granola [what the container said]: corn-nuts, sunflower seeds, almonds, Wasa [cracker] dust, granola dust, did I say dried cranberries? All it's missing is some olive oil [the only other food item we had left!]

We then proceeded to Bodadalur, and successfully shopped for another 4 days of food. However, Bodadalur, despite being one of the main population centers in the area, only had one smallish food shop. Prices were about 25% higher than in Reykjavik, and nowhere in town had stove fuel, which we were running out of, but we had no choice but to continue with what we had. 

For lunch, at this point quite late in the afternoon, we were ravenous. We made an incredibly weird rendition of the english classic baked beans, cheese and eggs on toast. The toast was just bread, and we cooked the eggs simply by mixing them with the several cans of beans, and then heating. Unfortunately, this meant we had no way of telling if they were cooked. And the entire concoction was quite mealy. It in fact tasted very strange. With copious amounts of cheese melted in, and bread to eat it with, it was palatable, but not much more than that. It took us many bites to realize that the mixture looked and tasted similar to mashed sweet potato. Not very tasty mashed sweet potato. 

We headed back the way we had come for a few miles, before heading off west onto the north coast of Snaefell peninsula, where we found a nice campsite by a gently flowing river. We spent the evening fixing my bottom bracket again (yes, it had worked its way loose again, after only a couple of days!) and skipping stones. As a result of overly enthusiastic skipping, we had a sore shoulder each for the rest of the trip. Whoops. We had a light dinner of bouillon cube soup as we were still in recovery from our huge, late lunch. 

Dental hygiene and a hint of color at sunset (Photo courtesy of Postyn)

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