Words and images by Andrew Mohama and Sam Garvin.

It is more than just a bike ride. And perhaps it always is. Because what are these miles for if not for what you discover about yourself, the people you ride with, the surrounding environment, and the communities you come across?

Following roughly over 500 miles and nearly 40,000ft of winding up and around the Westfjords of Iceland, I am still trying to process one of the most impactful weeks I’ve had in the outdoors. But this bikepacking trip wasn’t just a one week ordeal—it was a compilation of nearly one year of dreaming, planning, and connecting the dots. So let’s look back at how it all began.

“Want to Do Something Absolutely Crazy?”

It’s the first week of September in 2021, and I’m sitting on the couch endlessly scrolling Instagram. I’m about to throw my kit on and head out for a ride, and then I click through stories from Chris Burkard, an all-around guru of the outdoors and adventure. As a photographer, his content is top shelf material all of the time. Beyond the stunning content, he is a storyteller at heart. I’m clicking through his stories and it appears that he is bikepacking a new route in the Westfjords of Iceland called “The Westfjords Way.” He’s joined by a motley crew of cyclists, including Payson Mcelveen and Lael Wilcox. I couldn’t believe the terrain they were traversing, and the conditions fell perfectly into the type 2 fun that plenty of us cyclists somehow love. Freezing rain. Ungodly winds. Steep dirt climbs. Snowy mountain passes. It had it all. I’m not exactly sure what it was, but I’d equate it to an inner calling that I had to go to Iceland and experience it for myself. I texted my friend Phil: “Want to do something absolutely crazy next summer?” to which he responded “Yup. I’m all in. Where are we going?”

After fully committing to riding the Westfjords Way sometime in mid-2022, we started to put the word out to a few of our friends. At the time of planning this trip, I had been living in Minneapolis, MN. I’ve been lucky enough to connect with an incredible community of cyclists hungry for challenge and adventure. It is because of this community I am even able to take on experiences like this; a consistent supportive force normalizing exceedingly difficult situations. The final group consisted of six of us, all local to Minneapolis, Minnesota. We had Kate Coward, Sam Garvin, Dave Nagel, Chase Grieves, Phil Ensminger, and myself. We all came with a breadth of experience, each person bringing something unique to the crew and expedition. In retrospect, I don’t think we really knew what we had signed up for, but that’s the spirit of a great adventure.

The Iceland Trip Bible

I am not sure there is a way to explain just how much preparation went into this trip, but I’ll try. By the time we were boarding our flight from Minneapolis to Iceland, we had a 6-channel discord groupchat filled with enough information to make a solid attempt at writing a “Bikepacking in Iceland for Dummies” book. That was on top of a 12+ tab Google Sheets shared document with loads of itinerary, gear lists, possible routes, training, coordinates, and more, all of which was eventually crafted into a beautiful phone compatible document called the “Iceland trip bible.” I owe overwhelming credit to Phil with his excellent project management and digital aesthetic skills.

This may seem like a lot of work, and it was! But let me be very clear: we were overthinking plenty of the prep while neglecting some higher yield items. For example, I spent probably two weeks researching which rain jacket to bring but didn’t realize I actually booked the wrong flight from Reykjavík to Ísafjörður (oops!). Some of this research was definitely overkill, but this was the first bikepacking trip for four out of six of us and there are ample logistical challenges with transporting six people internationally with their bikes and all the gear needed for traversing remote Iceland for a full week. 

Here is what the final travel itinerary included looked like:

• Fly 6-ish hours from Minneapolis to Keflavík
• Take a 45-minute-long bus from Keflavík to Reykjavík for an eight hour layover
• Board a small plane to fly 40 minutes from Reykjavík to Ísafjörður
• Hop on a bus to drive 10 minutes into Ísafjörður proper
• Check in at the hostel
• Cheers with some Icelandic beer for Iceland’s independence day

The Rigs

Sam Garvin and I both brought the Otso Waheela C, arguably one of the best bikepacking bikes on the market. When they say this bike can do it all, it’s not a hypothetical statement. Our Waheelas took on just about every condition and terrain imaginable in Iceland, and we were the only riders with zero mechanicals the entire trip. 10 out of 10 bike and 100% my recommendation for anyone looking for their next all-in-one bike.

Here’s Sam with his bike, fully loaded:

The details:

• Frameset: Otso Waheela C, size XL, custom paint, frame built by Sam himself, Tuning Chip in rear position for maximum stability
• Wheelset: Light Bicycle 46mm rims, DT240 rear hub, SON28 Dynamo front hub
• Groupset: Shimano Ultegra Di2, 46/30 2x Easton Ec90SL Crankset, 11-40t XT Cassette, Ultegra RX Clutch Derailleur
• Cockpit: Easton EC70 AX Handlebars, Redshift Pro Suspension Stem, Profile Design Aero Bars (for that Iceland wind!)
• Tires: Rene Herse Oracle Ridge 700×48 (endurance casing), Orange Seal tubeless sealant
• Bikepacking Bags: Apidura Expedition 9L Seatpack, Revelate Mag Tank Top Tube Bag, Revelate Tangle Half Frame Pack, two Revelate Mountain Feedbags, ZPACKS Dry Bag mounted with a DIY handlebar harness. Wolf Tooth B-RAD TekLite Roll-Top Bag 1.0L mounted beneath the downtube
• Highlights: Bar end Di2 Shifters, OneUp Dropper Post, Sinewave Beacon light/charger, Garmin Varia Radar Tail Light, DAMn water bottle (IYKYK)

And then here is my bike, fully loaded:

The details:

• Frameset: 2019 Otso Waheela C, size 54, matte black with Wolf Tooth Components anodized purple accents, Tuning Chip in rear position for maximum stability
• Wheelset: Specialized Roval Terra C, size 700c
• Groupset: Shimano 1x GRX 11-36 setup with a 40T Wolf Tooth chainring (Yes, I suffered on a majority of the climbs)
• Handlebars: Otso Cycles Lithic Corundum
• Tires: Rene Herse Oracle Ridge 48s (endurance casing)
• Bikepacking Bags: Revelate Terrapin 14L Seatpack, Revelate Mag Tank Top Tube Bag, Revelate Tangle Half Frame Pack, two Revelate Mountain Feedbags, Relevate Sweet Roll 11L Handlebar Bag, Wolf Tooth B-RAD TekLite Roll-Top Bag 1.0L mounted beneath the downtube

Sam and I collectively agreed that the Otso Waheela C was the perfect choice for this trip. The tire clearance is huge and was deeply appreciated during the sections of chunky singletrack and sea roads. We put the Tuning Chip in the rear position and threw on massive 48 Rene Herse tires. We never had any problems with clearance. In fact, we could have gone with full mountain bike tires if we wanted (appropriate for mountain bike terrain trips). The bikes carried loads of gear and Icelandic treats and never felt compromised, even at 40+ mph down a gravel mountain descent. You really get the best of all worlds with this bike. This bikepacking route featured 50% pavement, and the bike was impressively fast as it acted like a race bike. And then on the 50% gravel and gravel plus, it handled to perfection. Sam even threw a dropper post and a red shift stem on his bike, making it an all around machine combining comfort and technical excellence.

Let’s dive into all of the details of each day. The highs and lows. The tears of joy and pain. And everything in between. And if you are interested in hearing all of the raw thoughts, feelings, and reflections associated with each day, I recorded a barebones podcast at the culmination of each day. You can find that here on Spotify podcasts.

Day 0: Pre-Ride Shake Out (We Ended Up Climbing a Mountain)

Ísafjörður to Bolungarvík, Out and Back — 34 Miles, 2,726 Feet of Elevation

The crew was on Cloud 9. We re-assembled our bikes and everything was ready to go. The sun was shining and this was a good weather day for summer in Iceland, a balmy 55 degrees and reasonable 15mph winds. Our local friend Kristin took us on a ride to Bolungarvík for pizza and a tour to a historic site for drying fish. We looked across the water and saw an interesting-looking dome atop the mountain, and Kristin told us it was actually an American base. We all took one look at each other, and without hesitation got on our bikes and headed out to climb up Bolafjall Mountain to see it up close, gain an amazing view, and cruise back down on the descent before returning back to our hostel in Ísafjörður where we hung out for the night before the official start.

Day 1: A Tale of Two Winds

Ísafjörður to Heydalur — 86 Miles, 6,111 Feet of Elevation

As soon as we left the hostel, we were blasted with headwinds. And then a quick 15 minutes later, we were soaring with a tailwind. And then after 30 minutes had gone by, headwinds again. And again and again. This is the theme of riding in the Westfjords. You weave in and out of these deep fjords to get from point A to B. What was an 86 mile day for us would likely be about 20-30 miles for a bird flying directly to where we were going. It is a frustratingly enjoyable experience, getting intimately close with the landscape you are riding in rather than simply cutting across over a bridge. Perhaps the highlight of day one was a small waffle house oasis at mile 40. It was this cute and cozy home that featured enough homemade waffles and coffee to warm the coldest of souls. The last 40 miles were a bit of a battle, especially the final 10 pushing against a 30ish mph headwind. Once arriving in Heyadalur, were rewarded with a lovely hot spring plunge and potentially the best food we had all trip from the local aquaponic farm.

Day 2: Fields of Lupines

Heydalur to Bjarnarfjörður — 61 Miles, 4,662 Feet of Elevation

The day started with perhaps the best breakfast I have ever had. Fresh and warm loaves of bread, homemade jams, local smoked fish, the silkiest fresh butter, sweet rolls, coffee, and friendly smiles sending us on our way for the day. Just a few miles into our day, we were ascending a minimally maintained road that definitely called for a mountain bike (or just an Otso Waheela). We made it to the top, paused for a picture, and flew down the other side. Note to self: don’t leave anything you don’t want to lose in the outer mesh of your feedbags (my wallet flew out and was gone for good). Luckily, I was able to use Apple Pay the rest of the trip (can you believe remote Iceland takes Apple Pay?). It was still windy but the sun was shining and we took our time to really stop and smell the roses (or, in Iceland, the lupines). Today was a day of challenge for Dave, as he faced three different flat tires. We managed to help get him to the end of the day, but that extra challenge paved the way to some logistical nightmares moving forward.

Day 3: 60mph Winds and an Emergency A-Frame Shelter

Bjarnarfjörður to Hólmavík to A-Frame Cabin and back to Hólmavík — 52 miles, 4,126 Feet of Elevation

Nothing could really prepare us for what day 3 had in store. What began as a calm morning on gravel roads around the coastal line turned into emergency sheltering on the top of a mountain pass. We had our first major rainfall that came with massive gusts of wind. Nothing out of the ordinary, however. So we moved along and made time to stop for pizza in Hólmavík and even stopped at the Museum of witchcraft and sorcery.  

About ten miles out of Hólmavík, we started climbing a 10-20% grade climb of washed out rocky gravel. This was an old service road caled Trollatunga. Under good weather conditions, this would still be a battle. But this climb felt like we were going to war. We were all fully off of our bikes, heads down, and pushing our bikes up this climb into 50mph headwinds. I couldn’t quite believe it but still had a smile on my face, despite creeping fears of what the ridgeline had in store. We all had to fight our own fight up the climb, since all attempts to scream at one another were lost in the wind.

One by one, after what was about an hour of trudging up this climb, we got to the top completely soaked and frozen cold. It was lucky beyond measure that there was an A-frame hut at the top of the climb, just before the seven mile ridge line. We huddled in the hut and recuperated for the next few hours as we went back and forth about what we were going to do next. Kate Coward, our most fearless rider on the trip, had done rides as wild as the Iditarod Trail, and even she was unsure about moving forward. We had no cell service, and we had nowhere to stay if we turned around. Somehow, and I have no idea how, Dave got a bar of service and was able to contact Dora, explain the situation, and find us a guest house to stay 10 miles away if we backtracked and went back down the climb we just ascended. This news put us all nearly in tears, and the way back down featured the most heavenly rainbow I have ever seen. Despite being the most fearful moment of the trip, it was also the most beautiful. I will never forget that day. We arrived at the guest house, dried all of our soaked gear overnight, and made enough buttered pasta to feed multiple families (but of course we ate it all and packed some for the next day).

Day 4: Buttered Pasta for Breakfast, Dried Fish for Lunch

Hólmavík to Flókalundur Guest House — 115 Miles, 8,241 Feet of Elevation

This was a huge day of climbing, and we felt it. Kate wrapped our buttered pasta in plastic wraps and handed them out to us in the morning. Mine was gone within 15 minutes of riding. The good thing about riding in Iceland in the summer is you get 24 hours of sun, so if a ride takes all day you don’t have to worry about darkness. Weather temperature was consistently cold this day and next day, around 35-40F. With wind, it made for probably the coldest day of the trip. We set out early to tackle Trollatunga, the mountain that put us in our place the day before. Luckily, we found an alternative way over it on a paved road nearby. We planned to pickup some tires for Dave at a local cafe just after the mountain pass but it was not open for another hour. Shivering in coldness and wetness, Kate knocked on the door of the only house in sight. A lady by the name of Lisa opened the door and welcomed us in without hesitation. We were greeted with warm wool blankets, multiple pots of coffee, and even chocolate sweets. The generosity of strangers seems to always ground me in the shared humanity among us all. Once the cafe opened, we stopped in and got Dave’s tires along with multiple bags of Icelandic dried fish and butter (yum). The rest of the day was challenging, but we were on a mission and worked together to pierce through the wind and get to Flókalundur in one piece. We needed this day after what felt like defeat the day before. Around 100 miles in for the day, we came across a restaurant and stopped in for what ended up being two hours of food, beer, and laughs. Kate even picked up a bottle of wine and stuffed it in her frame bag.

Day 5: Rest Day?

Flókalundur Guest House to Patreksfjörður and then to Tálknafjörður Guest House — 45 miles, 4,121 Feet of Elevation

This was supposed to be our rest day of the trip, but the mountaintop A-frame incident left us a bit behind schedule. We had to pass on the true rest day and keep moving along. We stopped in Patreksfjörður for some lunch and a resupply before making our way up a large climb and descent to our guest house for the day—a beautiful home with fjordscape views and cozy cabin vibes. Our bodies were really feeling the fatigue from the trip build up, so this slower day was much appreciated. Some of us went for a hot spring and cold tank plunge, while others stayed back to rest. Oh, and Chase had to deconstruct and rebuild Phil’s rear hub due to slippage over the past few days.

Day 6: The Best Day We Have Ever Had on a Bike

Tálknafjörður Guest House to Svalvogar to Þingeyri — 92 Miles, 8,576 Feet of Elevation

I will let the pictures do the talking, because I have no words for just how wonderful of a day this was. It was the highlight reel of the Westfjords and quite literally the highlight reel of cycling for me. I have been biking for a long time, and I have been lucky enough to do a ride across the USA and in many picture-perfect destinations. Nothing was quite as beautiful and adventurous as these 92 miles. We climbed the largest climb of the trip which ended with a front row view of the Dynjandi Waterfall, and then we made our way to the Svalvogar sea road trail—roughly 20 miles of a mix of sea road, river crossings, gravel patches, and singletrack. All of which was on the side of a cliff overlooking the fjords. Wild sheep everywhere, arctic foxes running around, and smiles all around. And to top it off, it was our best weather day. Sunny, 50s, and low wind. What a treat.

Day 7: Why Take the Tunnel When You Can Climb Over the Mountain?

Þingeyri back to Ísafjörður — 34 Miles, 3,104 Feet of Elevation

A bittersweet day. We were wrecked and ready to finish, but I certainly was not ready to leave the Westfjords. This place welcomed us with open arms, threw us in the ringer, and taught us a million lessons in the process. These trips always finish with a sense of grief for me, knowing that they can never truly be replicated. The connections, the memories, the conversations. But we had a ride to do and we got after it. We first made a stop at a local farm for some breakfast and conversation with local friends, and I recorded a conversation with Halldóra Björk Norðdahl, one of the leaders of Cycling Werstfjords and local to Ísafjörður her whole life.

We then made our way towards the final mountain pass of the trip. There was a tunnel we could have taken that cut underneath the pass, but why would we do that? This was more of a hike-a-bike than a ride, but it was blissfully fun. We trudged through snow and streams and had to very carefully walk across a slanted snowy path to get across the end. It was truly a wild adventure. After “playing” in the snow, we made the final descent into Ísafjörður to cap off one of the best weeks of adventure.

As per tradition, the Westfjords Way is only complete with a plunge into the harbor of Ísafjörður. I made my way over and jumped into the ice cold bay.

More Than Just a Ride

I choose to see cycling as something more than just riding a bike. More than just traveling around. It can quite literally be a spiritual and transformative experience. Maybe this is just my liberal arts education kicking in, but hear me out for a second (or more) as I share my reflections on biking in Iceland.

The landscape you ride in can change you—but only if you let it. Let it.

It will challenge you beyond measure in one moment and bring you to tears of wonder in another. Any slight discomfort can become an all-consuming weight. The power of the wind is piercing. The roads are endless. The mountain passes are hostile. The body aches in despair. And life gets reduced to the bare essentials. Eat, drink, breathe, survive. Nothing else matters. Your mind may creep in… why am I doing this?

And then you look up. You maybe stop pedaling for a moment. And if you allow it, you will realize just how much of a privilege it is to be here. To ride with the pace of the land. To listen to its stories. To be a guest in nature’s home. To learn from the people who inhabit and cherish it. And suddenly, your mental narrative shifts towards a more beautiful space of compassion and embrace.

During these moments of temporary positive suffering—when your lungs are screaming and your heart is pounding—find the strength to keep going. Push. Pull. Breathe in. Breathe out. The bike is still moving forward. The impossible hill is now behind you. And the destination is one pedal closer. The mind will loudly affirm: you are capable of more than you ever imagined.

My late friend Cristal Ortega would always tell me, “A moment becomes special when you realize you cannot have the same moment twice.” Remember that these moments are powerful beyond human measure and gone in an instant. 

I was once sitting on my couch watching videos of Chris Burkard and others take on the world one expedition after another, wondering what experiences like that would be like—never really seeing it for myself but noticing a flicker of inspiration. So I slowly followed it, taking on challenges I considered adventurous, even if they were but a flicker to the light of what has been done before. I started to learn something transformative: that flicker is everything, because it’s yours. And it can explode a stone into a butterfly. It did for me.

To anyone reading this who has even the smallest kindling of interest in adventuring, whatever that means to you, know that it can be your reality. I believe it so intently. And it doesn’t need to be across the world or in the harshest conditions. Often it starts right in your own backyard. So much seems impossible, until it doesn’t. I wish you the best on your journeys, wherever they may take you.

Cycling Westfjords: Connecting People and Place Through Bicycle Tourism in the Westfjords of Iceland

This whole trip would not have been possible without the help of Cycling Westfjords, specifically Tyler Wacker and Halldóra Björk Norðdahl, who were instrumental in supporting everything from our early ideations of the trip up to being there during moments of emergency and support throughout the trip. I highly recommend working with them for an experience that is more than a ride. More than just offering help, they became lifelong friends.

I hope you enjoyed our stories and reflections from Iceland! Please feel free to message me on Instagram @andrewmohama with your thoughts, questions, and/or stories of your own. Otherwise, I can be reached at [email protected]—I’d love to chat!