Iceland Preparation, Flight, and Arrival

For years I was obsessed with the idea of taking a trip across all of Europe and Asia. The idea chewed around in the back of my brain, and I did my best to ignore it, because it was weird and scary.

Then some events in my life forced me to confront the idea directly, and I realized that even if I wouldn’t or couldn’t do the entire trip, I could at least do the starting portion: A zig-zag across the country of Iceland, during the summer months.

Why indeed!

Good question, Dad. Essentially the reasons are: Low crime, good infrastructure, fantastic terrain, and not much of a language barrier. Plus it’s the extreme western point of what could be called Europe, and connects to the mainland by a ship that sails on a regular schedule.

Of course, even though I had months to put together a great set of equipment and study routes and terrain, it still came down to a mad dash over the last few weeks, when all this happened at once:

  • I laid on the floor in agony for several days and passed a kidney stone.
  • I went in for a series of doctor appointments and blood tests, for the kidney stone, allergies, and other things.
  • The water heater in my apartment began to leak all over the floor. (I can’t pass this responsibility on to the landlord — I am the landlord.)
  • I gave tours to and evaluated a dozen renters, in order to rent out my apartment so I didn’t blast through my savings on the road.
  • I drove several loads of furniture to Southern California.
  • Full time work.

But somehow, the boxes got packed. I was up until 4:00am for most of the last week, but I didn’t quit. It was time to make this happen. I was done looking, it was time to leap.

Andrew gave me a ride to the airport, hauling along the massive bike boxes in his massive car. I was running on less than four hours of sleep and very grateful for the help. Hiring an airport shuttle with luggage this big is a total crapshoot. We chatted about his camping plans, his car, and his middle child Nora, who was going through a strange punk phase and making some strange decisions. There was an accident on the Bay Bridge but we got to the airport in good time.

Andrew helped me unloaded everything at the curb, and we exchanged hugs. “Send pictures!” he said. “You bet!” I said. Then he drove off, and I stood there with a backpack, two suitcases, and two huge boxes, wondering what my next move was. Find a handcart perhaps?

As I was swapping things around in the backpack, a man wandered by with a large cart and said I could use it for ten dollars. I had to get rid of my American cash anyway, so I agreed. He hauled everything onboard and pushed it inside to Icelandair check-in desk. Usually this is the point where a lot of haggling over box sizes and regulations begins, and that’s why I planned to be here several hours before the flight. Was I going to have to pull out my phone and quote from the airline’s own website, and speak to several managers, like I had last time? Yes, a box this large can go on the plane. Yes, it’s sporting equipment. Go ahead and look inside.

The attendants weighed all my stuff, and then brought up my baggage purchases on their computer. I’d put three check-in bags on my ticket, plus the carry-on, and then I’d called earlier in the week to add an oversize bicycle to the list. With only a few words exchanged, the attendants agreed that my third checked bag could be the smaller bicycle box, because I was only bringing one bicycle but dividing it between two boxes to meet weight requirements. That was it. The boxes were checked and wheeled away in less than five minutes and I didn’t have to open my wallet.

The security line was long but moved well. I had to discard my entire bottle of root beer before I got to the x-ray, which was aggravating. Then I was at the gate, with almost two hours to spare. Time to charge up all my gadgets!

I admit I would have enjoyed the flight a lot more if I haven’t been a sleep-deprived zombie. I discovered that while the exit row did have more room, it was also stone cold because of the way the air circulated in the cabin. I pulled out my fluffy pillow from my backpack, crammed it in the corner of the chair, and tried to sleep for about two hours.

I woke up somewhere over Canada and felt a bit better, but I missed the meal service. So I summoned the flight attendant – a lithe Icelandic woman with a sharp voice who spoke impeccable english – and she confirmed that I had a paid-for meal, which she then brought. A tasty falafel salad that was a bit dry, so I gulped water with every bite.

Greenland passing below...

Another nap, some cool views over Greenland, and we were there!

Packed shuttle from the plane to the terminal.

Everyone here is on their way to a groovy Icelandic adventure. Wearing my backpack, I fit right in… But soon I would claim my massive amount of luggage, and start looking like a weirdo and getting curious looks, like bike tourists always do.

Oversize items creep down that ramp on the right and slide into the room, a few at a time. In the digestive system of the baggage conveyors, this is the appendix.

It’s like the backside of some giant box-eating herbivore. A boxivore!

Miraculously, all the suitcases and boxes got here intact.

I’d already bought an Iceland-compatible data plan on my phone to keep costs down, but it didn’t let me make local calls. I had to bite the bullet and invoke my roaming charges to call up the hotel and ask when their shuttle would arrive. Turns out I needed to: They weren’t running the shuttles unless someone specifically booked them, and so far no one had booked any today. I would have been waiting forever if I hadn’t spent ten dollars on roaming charges. So … worth it?

The boxes were opened up for inspection, apparently. Good thing they didn't lose any of my stuff.

Once everything was safely inside my hotel room I discovered that someone had opened up the larger of my two boxes and inspected it, and dropped in a tag. Now I know who to yell at if something’s missing! Arrr!

Contents settled during shipping -- but only a little.

For the next four hours I unpacked, organized, and repacked everything. I’d been doing trial runs with this gear for quite a while, figuring out how to pack it down. Laid out on the foor I have to admit it looks completely impossible to fit on a bike. And yet it all does.

Everything laid out for taking inventory. That's a lot of stuff, yah?

And that was it for me. I fell onto the bed and slept. It was early evening, seven hours had vanished into jetlag, and the day was gone.

At least technically, since the sunlight never completely leaves the sky… Welcome to the far north!!

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