Where Wheels Tell Stories: A Rider’s Journey

With and Written by Tobias Woggon Returning to Iceland – This Time on an eBike!

Eight years ago, I traveled through Iceland for the first time. Back then, I met Magne Kvam — one of those rare people who don’t just know a landscape, but truly live it. From that very first trip, the vastness, the light, and the raw trails never let go of me. Now I wanted to return. I wanted to see how Iceland had developed as a bike destination — and whether the magic still felt the same.

Our first stop once again brought us to Icebike Adventures, this time to their new headquarters in Hveragerði. Much felt familiar, yet some things were new. The trail network around town had grown — more refined, more connected, even flowier. Over the past years, Magne and his crew had invested countless hours into shaping the volcanic slopes. What once felt raw and experimental now felt like a mature bike destination — without losing its wild character.

On the very first day, we rolled up into the Reykjadalur valley on our eBikes. While hikers worked their way uphill step by step, we glided upward much faster. At the top, the river steamed just as it always had. We dipped our legs into the hot water and couldn’t help but smile: some things simply don’t change.

The weather, however, quickly reminded us that Iceland is still Iceland. Rain came in sideways, gusts of wind shook our helmets, and more than once we questioned why we were voluntarily putting ourselves through this. Yet the trails surprised us again — despite constant rain, they remained remarkably grippy. In the evenings, we hung our soaked gear over the heaters and felt that satisfying heaviness in our legs.

A few days later, we continued on to the Iceland Bike Farm. Here, too, the possibilities had expanded: new connections, more flow, carefully crafted lines through rolling green hills. And once again, there it was — that uniquely Icelandic feeling: pure nature, barely any people, endless space. The trail dog Mosi followed us with boundless energy — sometimes right beside us, sometimes a small figure on the horizon, rounding up sheep.

One special chapter of our journey was a detour to Múlagljúfur Canyon. We wondered whether the hype was justified. The climb was technically demanding, but manageable with motor assistance. Standing at the edge of the canyon, we were speechless. Even after our first trip to Iceland, we hadn’t expected scenery like this.

The development of Iceland as a bike destination became especially clear in the Highlands, particularly around Landmannalaugar. We rode sections of the Laugavegur trail, crossing lava fields and passing steaming hillsides. The infrastructure is better organized, information more accessible — yet everything still feels elemental and untamed.

Our emotional highlight awaited us in Þórsmörk. With views of Eyjafjallajökull and the glacier tongues of Mýrdalsjökull, we rode narrow, exposed trails that demanded full attention.

As we paused up there, it became clear: Iceland has evolved as a bike destination. The trails are more numerous, the offerings more professional. But the most important thing remains unchanged — that raw, unpredictable nature that gives nothing freely and, precisely because of that, means everything. And we knew: we would be back.