I am by nature a rather quiet man. One of those fellows who likes to get up early, put the moka machine on, listen to some soft old school music whilst reading the news and thinking about the next adventure. All this in a continuous flow of thoughts that one can barely manage – simply because you don’t need to. This stuff is just self propelled. It really doesn’t need you.

On one such morning, while I was sipping a cup of my favourite coffee, I set my eyes on a photograph hanging in the living room I had taken years before in Iceland. It was my third solo and unsupported bike trip around the land of ice and fire, the one trip that was supposed to quench my thirst for discovering every little detail of the country and its inhabitants. In the three trips I had covered some 6,000+km on all sorts of terrain and through various portions of the country, meeting a wide variety of folks (locals and travellers), experiencing the foulest weather I had ever been subject to and discovering the amazing hospitality of a family of Icelanders. You could say I had closed a chapter of my life, fulfilled the dream I had nurtured for years.

However, the light hitting that photograph on the wall, the comfort zone par excellence, lit a new spark in my head. My recent trips had all been about me, myself and I. Which is great when you need to clear your mind and explore the depths of your soul for a reason or another – and God knows I needed to, back then. A few years before family life had come to a sudden halt when my brother and I were too young to lose our parents. But now it was different. It was time to move on and think.. TWO.

Enter Valentina, my better half. Not exactly a cyclist, not quite someone with itchy feet all the time. Definitely not a natural born adventurer. But for sure somebody ready to go the distance to check with her own eyes (and legs!) what my pores had absorbed. Don’t be tempted to leave now: this is not a love filled account of our trip – far from it. We had some very rough days in each of the countries we have crossed, those rough days that only some long distance cycling trips with very little comforts can force you through. This is just a visual account of the 2,000 kilometres ridden in hot Denmark, misty Faroe Islands and cold cold Iceland.

Yep. Because Iceland this time was to be reached via ferry and not by airplane. Which meant cycling the whole length of Denmark to catch the only ferry there is to go to Iceland, exploring the gorgeous Faroe Islands (with sit in the middle of the North Atlantic Ocean) for 10 days and then crossing over to Seyðisfjörður in Iceland.

Enjoy the ride!


Play this track by talented Fabio Silvestri while enjoying these photos! All rights reserved



Denmark had one of the hottest summers on record


Danish hospitality was overwhelming…


Not a restaurant. A wonderful night with the locals in Veile.




Making friends along the north-western coast of Denmark.




The excitement of approaching Tórshavn, capital city of the Faroe Islands


Couldn’t stop marvelling. Everywhere we looked


The gorgeous Mulafossur












In the capital. One of the smallest in the whole world


Rush hour in Tórshavn


Facing the elements with a smile






The strong mrs. Tired but satisfied. 


Loving the views










Going up the Slettaratindur mountain




Gorgeous coastal village


My fully loaded beast, aka La Poderosa




Our movable hotel


No comment. Just pure beauty










Welcome to Iceland!


The proud Icelandic horse










Foul weather in Jökulsarlón








The mighty Vatnajökull in the distance




The surreal landscape of lava fields


Cold and rain won’t stop us












One hell of a good day in the sun!









Darko, lightest set up ever!




The northern lights on display: our final prize



photos and words © fulvio silvestri, 2019