Full Circle / ICELAND: mit dem Mountainbike durch Natur, Küchen & Kulinarik

Back in Iceland — This Time on an eBike

Eight years ago, I had already traveled through Iceland once. That was when I met Magne Kvam — one of those people who don’t just know a landscape, but truly live it. Even back then, the vastness, the light, and the raw trails had stayed with me long after the trip was over. Now I wanted to return. I wanted to see how Iceland had evolved as a biking destination — and whether the magic still felt the same.

Our first stop brought us back to Icebike Adventures, this time to their new headquarters in Hveragerði. Much felt familiar, yet some things had changed. The trail network around town had grown — more refined, better connected, and even smoother to ride. Over the past few 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 spirit.

On our first day, we rode our eBikes up into the Reykjadalur Valley. While hikers worked their way uphill step by step, we glided up much faster. At the top, the river was steaming just as it always had. We dipped our legs into the hot water and couldn’t help but smile — some things simply never change.

The weather, however, quickly reminded us that Iceland is still Iceland. Rain came in sideways, gusts of wind rattled our helmets, and more than once we wondered why we were doing this voluntarily. But the trails surprised us again — even after hours of rain they stayed remarkably grippy. In the evenings we hung our soaked gear over the heater and felt that familiar, satisfying heaviness in our legs.

Back in Iceland — This Time on an eBike

Eight years ago, I had already traveled through Iceland once. That was when I met Magne Kvam — one of those people who don’t just know a landscape, but truly live it. Even back then, the vastness, the light, and the raw trails had stayed with me long after the trip was over. Now I wanted to return. I wanted to see how Iceland had evolved as a biking destination — and whether the magic still felt the same.

Our first stop brought us back to Icebike Adventures, this time to their new headquarters in Hveragerði. Much felt familiar, yet some things had changed. The trail network around town had grown — more refined, better connected, and even smoother to ride. Over the past few 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 spirit.

On our first day, we rode our eBikes up into the Reykjadalur Valley. While hikers worked their way uphill step by step, we glided up much faster. At the top, the river was steaming just as it always had. We dipped our legs into the hot water and couldn’t help but smile — some things simply never change.

The weather, however, quickly reminded us that Iceland is still Iceland. Rain came in sideways, gusts of wind rattled our helmets, and more than once we wondered why we were doing this voluntarily. But the trails surprised us again — even after hours of rain they stayed remarkably grippy. In the evenings we hung our soaked gear over the heater and felt that familiar, satisfying heaviness in our legs.

A few days later we continued on to the Iceland Bike Farm. Here too, the options had expanded. New connections, more flow, beautifully shaped lines running through green hills. And once again there was that distinctly Icelandic feeling: pure nature, hardly any people, endless space. The trail dog Mosi accompanied us with boundless energy — sometimes right beside us, sometimes a small figure on the horizon, herding a sheep back toward the flock.

One of the most memorable chapters of our trip was a detour to Múlagljúfur Canyon. We wondered if the hype was justified. The climb up was technically demanding, but manageable with motor support. When we reached the top and stood 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 even more apparent in the Highlands, especially around Landmannalaugar. Infrastructure is better organized now, information easier to access — and yet the place still feels elemental and untamed. We rode sections of the Laugavegur trail, crossing lava fields and passing steaming hillsides. Again and again we stopped, not just for the view, but to take in how special it is to ride through a place like this.

Our emotional high point awaited us in Þórsmörk. With views of Eyjafjallajökull and the glacier tongues of Mýrdalsjökull, we rode narrow, exposed trails that demanded our full concentration. When we paused up there for a moment, it became clear: Iceland has indeed evolved as a bike destination. There are more trails now, the offerings are more professional. But the most important thing remains unchanged — the raw, unpredictable nature that gives nothing for free, and precisely because of that, means everything. And we knew one thing for certain: we would come back.

Text: Tobi Woggon
Camera: Bastian Meier
Cut: Tom Schönfeld
Photo: Michael Neumann

A few days later we continued on to the Iceland Bike Farm. Here too, the options had expanded. New connections, more flow, beautifully shaped lines running through green hills. And once again there was that distinctly Icelandic feeling: pure nature, hardly any people, endless space. The trail dog Mosi accompanied us with boundless energy — sometimes right beside us, sometimes a small figure on the horizon, herding a sheep back toward the flock.

One of the most memorable chapters of our trip was a detour to Múlagljúfur Canyon. We wondered if the hype was justified. The climb up was technically demanding, but manageable with motor support. When we reached the top and stood 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 even more apparent in the Highlands, especially around Landmannalaugar. Infrastructure is better organized now, information easier to access — and yet the place still feels elemental and untamed. We rode sections of the Laugavegur trail, crossing lava fields and passing steaming hillsides. Again and again we stopped, not just for the view, but to take in how special it is to ride through a place like this.

Our emotional high point awaited us in Þórsmörk. With views of Eyjafjallajökull and the glacier tongues of Mýrdalsjökull, we rode narrow, exposed trails that demanded our full concentration. When we paused up there for a moment, it became clear: Iceland has indeed evolved as a bike destination. There are more trails now, the offerings are more professional. But the most important thing remains unchanged — the raw, unpredictable nature that gives nothing for free, and precisely because of that, means everything. And we knew one thing for certain: we would come back.

Text: Tobi Woggon
Camera: Bastian Meier
Cut: Tom Schönfeld
Photo: Michael Neumann

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