How to Get Flipped off in Iceland
As much as I relish finding the adventure in my own backyard, every once in a while I find a cheap flight that only requires a minute of thought. I found myself in this situation in November of 2016 with a last-minute fare to Reykdavik. Iceland in November is still Iceland after all.
At $200 round-trip, Katie and I still barely had the money. We had been married for about a year. We were going to classes during the day and working third shift to pay for college. We’ve always had a gift for budget travel, but this one would require little room for error.
I had never heard of WOW Airlines, and I was surprised to see powder pink aircrafts on the runway. We walked to the furthest corner of Boston’s sprawling airport, and then straight to the ramp. There was no need for one of those extending hallways that brought you right into the airplane. There were no frills here. I was surprised to see the pilot was about my age, but then again, I wasn’t surprised at all.
I knew very little about Iceland. Budget travel from the U.S. seemed to be just ramping up. I had never met anyone who had been there, and travel blogs online mostly catered to the area directly surrounding Reykjavik - had I even bothered to read them.
I found a new company online who was renting out vans with a twin bed for $30/day. We decided lodging and transportation in one would be our key to stick to the budget.
$200 RT tickets almost always mean the red eye, and when we landed in Reykjavik it was only 3AM. There was no Lyft and no Uber. The taxis ran on business hours. We had to sleep in the airport.
In the morning, I gave our driver the address: Stapabraut 21, 260 Reykjanesbær.
He informed me he had never heard of the establishment nor had he ever heard of the road I requested. I sat back in amazement as the driver took us through winding roads carved into the volcanic landscape, each offshoot narrowing further. In the early morning fog, the roads blended perfectly with the black rock surrounding them. The only distinguishing factor between the road and the jagged volcanic rock were the meticulously placed yellow posts that kept driver’s oriented.
We arrived early, but opted to wait in the parking lot opposed to running up the meter in the taxi. It was only then that I realized just how harsh and freezing November in Iceland was. It was a cold that hurt within seconds.
The rental agent introduced himself as Thorseteinn Sverrisson, but asked me to call him Thor. He was a large, bearded man who looked more like a viking than a rental agent. We filled out the necessary paperwork at the desk, and we were informed that, due to increased tourism over the summer, the Icelandic government had recently passed an ordinance stating that vans were not permitted to park overnight on the side of the road.
“Just pull in behind a tree or hill and you will be fine”.
I remembered the landscape I just witnessed on the drive in and questioned where I would find a tree or a hill.
“Don’t worry! You are in the happiest place on Earth. There will be grace for tourists!”
Most of Western Iceland is surrounded in volcanic rock
We threw our bags in the back of the van with excitement. Something was different though. As I started the car I heard an unfamiliar THUNK. I tried again as the van jolted forward, THUNK. After this happened a few more times, I called my Father-in-law.
My father-in-law wasn’t a stern man, but a lifetime working in probation and parole left him with a pretty black and white outlook on the world. He was motivated by reason and laws. That made us a bit of an odd pairing at times. He was trying to bring order to the world, and I was often embracing the chaos. He was meticulous for car maintenance though, and I figured he would know the problem.
“Tommy, I’m in Iceland,” I said
“Is it nice?”.
“It’s November,” I replied. “I’m having some car trouble.”
“Well, what's wrong with the car?”
I looked down and hesitated, “It has three pedals…”
The silence on the other end of the phone said it all.
Tommy did his best to talk me through driving a stick shift, but his coaching was futile. He asked why my father never taught me how to drive a manual transmission, and I asked him why he never taught his daughter to drive one. We were going in circles and the van hadn’t moved an inch. I ran back to Thor.
I explained the problem with the van, how it had three pedals, and the horrible thunk sound it made. Thor adamantly defended the van. He conceded the fact that there was a clear failure, but it was not the extra pedal. I pleaded that I was a feeble American driver and requested an automatic van instead. I was quickly condemned for implying such a thing existed across Iceland’s harsh landscape. I admitted defeat and begged for my money back.
“The paperwork we just reviewed explained that there are no refunds,” Thor declared. “The van is paid in full for ten days.”
“What about grace? You said this is the happiest place on Earth!”
“I am sorry. We made your booking several weeks ago. A refund isn’t possible”
“You don’t understand,” I responded. “It's not just my transportation, it's our lodging!”
“No refunds. There is nothing I can do.”
Helpless, I nearly dropped my head in defeat. “Then you have to teach me how to drive it.”
I saw the hesitation on his face, but he looked at me with compassion. “With no experience, it will be very difficult to navigate Icelandic roads during winter. Even with experience, many tourists find it difficult.”
I saw Thor reach for the keys on the table, and I beat him to it. “No refunds!” I blurted out.
“We don’t have money for another rental, or lodging, or even a taxi to take us to another rental or lodging,” I pleaded. “You can teach me to drive or we can sleep in your parking lot for the next ten days. Thor, please, teach me to drive.”
I melted that viking’s cold heart.
For the next hour, Thor reluctantly explained to me the necessary skills to survive ten days on Iceland’s winter roads. There is something about being a grown man and re-learning how to drive from the manliest man in the arctic, a man whose actual name is Thor, that will humble you. I used the little pride I had left to throw out terms my father-in law had just taught me over the phone.
“Don’t pop the clutch,” I causally dropped from the passenger seat while he was winding through lava fields.
“Don’t ride the clutch.”
“Don’t clutch the clutch.”
He shot me a look.
After my turn in the driver’s seat, it was painstakingly clear that although I could start the car, it would be essential that I avoided all stop signs, lights, and traffic. Thor pulled out a map to help guide me onto the highway by only passing through roundabouts.
“Are you better at German or French?” he asked me.
How many times would I have this man overestimate me in one day. “German,” I guessed. He passed me the map but paused momentarily before handing me the keys. He knew full well he may be kissing his van goodbye, and he made one final request.
“Sir, please consider the extended insurance,” he begged.
I reached for the keys without hesitation. “We’re on a budget.”
As we traveled across the island, my confidence began to build. I drove alongside glaciers and volcanoes. Waterfalls would appear out of nowhere, dropping off the high plateau and free falling into grassland. Many were unmarked, just hidden amongst the farmland where they framed sheep grazing without fences. We seemed to be the only one’s to notice. There’s a site like this around every bend. Iceland can make your head spin.
Every bridge along Iceland’s infamous Ring Road is one-lane wide. Both directions of traffic quickly merge while you and the oncoming traffic have to instantaneously decide who will yield to the other. There was no decision for me to make when these came up, because I knew something the car opposite me didn’t. The only way this van stops is when the engine does it for me. I held my breath each time, but I won every game of chicken.
Dozens of unmarked waterfalls like this seem to be taken for granted.
I watched the volcanic plains turn into rolling hills and then spotted mountains in the distance. Just as I was beginning to feel like I had the hang of it, we traversed up the steepest terrain yet. I began to feel the van shake and sputter. Our van thumped along for another 100 feet until it halted, rather dramatically, in the middle of the highway. We were halfway up the mountainside.
This was the first true mountain we had encountered, and the steep, narrow road could only accommodate one lane in each direction. Within minutes we were beginning to jam up the only path that leads to the other side of the mountain.
I tried starting it back up, but it was different this time. The car began to roll back each attempt, and I wasn’t quick enough to get it moving. Each time the engine rolled over, I rolled backwards further down the mountain. Car’s began to whizz around with no trouble at all. Some passed with a honk, others passed with a middle finger. I was only a few hours in the happiest place on Earth and I had already severely offended at least a dozen Icelandic natives.
I decided my best shot was to put the car in neutral and roll the rest of the way down the mountain backwards. I was rather proud of this idea actually. Back at the base, I could get the car going on flat ground and start fresh.
I circled back a half mile and turned around to face my obstacle. I beelined for the mountaintop, shifting to the highest gear, and feeling confident I could outrun any gravity trying to pull me back. 70 kilometers per hour. 80. 90.
Rumble. Sputter. Back to zero. The engine failed me even sooner than it did the last time.
I repeated the steps again: neutral, backwards down the mountain, start fresh.
I hit top gear as quickly as I could and gunned it to 110 kilometers per hour.
Back to zero. Nothing worked.
Cars continued to zoom past me: honking, cursing, and flipping me off. Happiest place my ass. I was defeated again. Katie and I stepped out of the car with our thumbs up. It was clear the only way we would ever get past this mountain was in another car.
It didn’t take long for a kind German couple to pick us up. I was relieved they spoke perfect english. So far, I had picked up very little German from my map.
After quick introductions, we hopped in the back and were off. I watched meticulously as the driver started the car on the hillside, directly next to where I had failed. I took a mental note that he used the handbrake to get speed before lifting off the clutch. That must be the secret to starting on a hill, but I still had no idea how his car could drive up inclines and mine couldn’t.
They offered to drive us to the nearby town to pick up some gas. I told them it wasn’t that kind of car trouble that we were having.
“Instead, can we join you for the afternoon?”
Some of Iceland’s most iconic stops along the southern coast we viewed in the company of our German saviors. We saw the sea arches, pillars and Vic’s black sand beach together.
As we drove around, I carefully observed the driver’s buttery smooth transitions between gears. His start and stop were like being rocked to sleep in a cradle. We were really hitting it off, and I suppose a part of me was hoping we would forget about the van for good. Maybe they would barely notice our presence, and we could circle the island together. Thor doesn’t expect to see that van again anyways.
Alas, the couple insisted on vacationing alone. They returned us to our van in the evening which was still perched on the side of the mountain. It was a noisy night. In the morning, I called Tommy.
“Tommy, I’m stuck again. You gave me some good tips on driving a stick, but this car doesn’t drive up inclines! We’ve been stuck on this mountain since yesterday!”
“Well, where did you sleep last night?”
“On the side of the road,” I responded.
“Well, what have you been doing?”
“We hitchhiked around”.
“So, you brought my daughter to Iceland even though it's November and you can’t drive?”
“Yes sir.”
“And you slept on the side of the road? You hitchhiked?”
“It’s true,” I admitted.
And you don’t know you have to shift down when you’re going up a hill?”
“Wait, what was that last part?”
“Did you at least put diesel fuel in it?”
“We’re on a budget.”
We continued counter-clockwise around Ring Road over the next nine days. We cooked ramen and ate ham sandwiches next to roaring rivers. An unexpected gust of wind left us soaked from a waterfall, and we shivered in the van for hours.
After putting on wet suits to swim between the European and North American tectonic plates, Katie passed out from the cold. It was ten days of madness. I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
We explored arctic plane wreckage and stood next to glaciers a half-mile thick. We watched sea lions swim amongst floating ice patches and wild horses run beside the ocean. On our final night, I watched the northern lights dance through my rear window while I fell asleep. It is one of the most treasured memories I have.
When I came around the bend to the rental agency, Thor was already in the parking lot to greet me. He ran toward me through the lava field like the prodigal son had just returned. I thought he was happy to see his van, but he was trying to tell me to park with the other returns. I tried shifting gears too abruptly and stalled before he could reach me. I opened the door and tossed him the keys.
Last year, I told this story at my Father-in-law’s funeral. To this day, I am grateful for the times he answered the call. His unwavering help bailed me out more than once. It's people like him who keep the world turning – so the rest of us can act like knuckleheads. You are missed Tommy!
Locations mentioned:
Vic’s Black Sand Beach | 63.41269, -19.01794
Convergence of continental plates | 64.25349, -21.11734
Arctic plane wreckage | 63.4591, -19.36478
