“Don’t ever say it wasn’t an adventure… unless you were riding a KTM.”
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If you’ve ever wondered whether Iceland is a good idea on a motorcycle: it absolutely is. But it’s also a masterclass in suffering, improvisation, and falling in love with riding all over again — despite the rain, the sandstorms, and some techincal issues.
Four riders. Four bikes. And a rough plan that quickly dissolved into duct tape, river crossings, and philosophical musings on “the now.” We left for the North with high spirits and a trailer full of potential problems...
It didn’t take long for Iceland to answer.
Askja: The Reckoning
Day five kicked off with bright moods, fresh lava fields, and some KTM's that were already questioning all life decisions.
We didn't leave the harbor yet or the first LC8 hit the ground. Was it an omen for what was yet to come?
The first kilometers were easy, peasy. Visiting the Stuðlagil Canyon and then moving forward to Askja.
From leaking oil caps to fuel hoses popping off mid-ride and a bike that literally switched itself off in the rain — welcome to the Askja leg of the tour.
Washboard gravel, soft volcanic sand, and our first real river crossings set the tone. And when everyone has dropped their bike at least once... you know it's proper riding.
Sandstorms & Wrenching
We woke up to 70km/h winds and tents trying to relocate themselves. Perfect time for a mechanical session. The KTM got a new starter relay (cheers, BlackBert), and the tents were reinforced with extra stakes, rocks, and sheer willpower. Everything felt like a battle — against the elements, machines, and sometimes, ourselves.
The Angel with the Pickup
Enter Josephine. Ranger. Hero. Pickup truck savior. During one of the deeper crossings, she offered to haul all our luggage across the river. Her smile may have been the only sunlight we saw that day.
Split & Repair Missions
The group split up: Jo and I hit the tarmac, searching for a fix for his leaking fork and my destroyed tent. Muug and Bert went hardcore offroad. Back in town, local legends Haraldur and Stéfan helped us out big time. Bikes were revived. Zippers repaired. Sanity restored.
Dakar Dreams & Drone Shots
With the bikes running again, we ventured deeper into Iceland’s north. Fast gravel, open plains, and sudden sheep — it felt like Dakar, until a soft patch of sand reminded us otherwise. We swapped bikes for a bit. The Tenere was smooth, the KTM… characterful.
Westfjords & Whales
The Westfjords brought alpine climbs, misty cliffs, and finally — actual whales. No photos (they were too fast), but we swear we saw them. Even the locals waved. GS riders warned us of tides, and gravel gods kept us humble.
