Sesar and Skuggi

I was up and packing well after dawn, which was alright, because dawn had technically begun at 3:30am. I knew there would be trouble as soon as I looked at the side of the tent: The outside of the mesh window was a fluffy constellation of mosquitoes, dozens of them, perched and waiting as close as they could to the smell of fresh human inside.

I stared at them groggily. I’d managed a little less than six hours of sleep. Now on top of sleep deprivation I was going to be deprived of blood! I shook my first at them, which did nothing. I smacked the mesh and a few of them moved, then quickly landed again. Oh well, nothing for it. At least the day’s riding would be relatively easy.

As soon as I stepped out of the tent my head was encased in a furiously buzzing cloud, and I instantly began scrabbling at my face. I ducked back inside and grabbed my wool hat and rain hood, plus my sunglasses. The buzzing cloud reformed a few inches in front of my nose and laid siege.

The little jerks were plentiful but not as sneaky as the ones I’d met in Alaska. Around me I noticed adults were stepping out of tents and cars and immediately breaking into a run as they went for the bathrooms. Nearby I saw a woman pick up her child and jog him over to a washing station. It took her just a few seconds to wash his face but before she finished he was crying in terror and waving his arms ineffectually at the bugs. I realized that I was one of probably two or three other people in this whole crowded campground who would think “Oh, these aren’t as bad as that other place I’ve been…” and that almost made me laugh.

I secretly hoped the guy who harassed me the other night was itching all over. I also gave thanks to my pee bottle, which saved me at least one trip outside into this madness in the early morning.

I disassembled and packed the tent with extra speed. On my way out of the campground I looked around again for a place where I might pay someone for the space, but saw no signage anywhere, and none of the buildings looked prominent enough. Had I wandered into the middle of some other event, for which people had purchased tickets elsewhere? I noticed that all the inflatable rides and toys I’d seen on the way in were now deflated. Was the event over, or would they start back up again?

I shrugged and turned the bike onto the main road. The bugs were still harassing me, but as I got up to speed, the cloud swapped out for progressively smaller clouds and then dispersed entirely. Always good to be back in the saddle.

I descended some short hills, stepping down into a valley. The cloud cover stayed with me but there was no rain. Each mountain pushed up through the clouds, leaving a narrow gap along the slope, which illuminated the hillsides in the distance even as the valley stayed in perpetual shadow. It was strange light.

I passed fields of grass, with occasional horses roaming around. A few stared curiously at me from behind wire fences as I sailed by. I always hoped they would start running along the fence and follow me for a while, because it’s quite enchanting when that happens, but none of them were inspired today.

As I turned south and headed closer to the coast, the air grew colder, so I stopped to add some layers. I strolled around a bit to help my circulation.

That’s when I noticed the bridge. It crossed a small ditch and then pointed directly into a tangle of weeds. There was no path I could see. What was this all about?

I walked across and waded into the grass. Was this some kind of overgrown campground? Wait, there are pieces of wood here, with labels on them…

Well now. This was not something I expected to see today.

I had a lot of thoughts about this. One was, my cat Mira is getting old, and it would be nice to lay her to rest in a place like this when the time came, where the site could be marked and remembered. It couldn’t be Iceland of course. It would have to be closer to home.

Another thought was, a place like this couldn’t really exist back in the city I called home, because any use of space would be subject to an encyclopedia of regulations, some of which would require money. One possible exception might be the weird wasteland of the Albany Bulb, but even that would be a tenuous negotiation with artists and traveling campers.

The redwood forest where I spent my childhood might be able to conceal a pet cemetery. In fact it might conceal one already. I could bury Mira there, but it wouldn’t be appropriate: Mira never lived in the redwoods. She was born in Santa Cruz, in the crawlspace underneath a house. I suppose the best place for her would be the back garden of her current residence in Oakland. She loves that garden.

I felt lucky to have seen this little memorial to beloved pets. I took my photos and then pedaled on, carefully storing the memory so that it didn’t grow too heavy and make me homesick for my little fuzzy cat and the sunbeams under the avocado tree. I could see that later. She’ll be on the Earth for a while yet.

The traffic began to increase. I was nearing a section of the Ring Road again. The clouds descended into mist for a while.

Soon I passed a roundabout, and the traffic got crowded. By the time I crossed the Ölfusá river on a two-lane bridge, the cars were actually wedged bumper-to-bumper, stacked up across the bridge and down to another roundabout just inside the city of Selfoss. I suspected a lot of the drivers were tourists who didn’t quite trust their instincts on a roundabout.

I rolled past all that, and up to a local cat, who was perched on the sidewalk and staring at the tangle of cars with a bored expression. I imagined it was employed as a town greeter and paid every evening in fish.

There were a number of sights to see here but my main interest was a place to sit and some snacks to chomp.

I got a late breakfast and coffee in a cafe next to the roundabout, tucked into a small table among a crowd of tourists, mostly fellow Americans. Then I rolled down the road to my hotel room and checked in, and stowed my gear. I decided to spend an extra day in Selfoss because my rear brakes were giving me trouble, and I didn’t want to over-use my front brakes and end up with none.

With the bike safe behind a locked door, I set out on foot to a second cafe.

Then I walked uptown and bought soap and milk and KFC sandwiches. Depending on how the repairs went, I might spend all the next day squirreled away in the room.