Bakkafjörður is a hamlet on the far northeastern edge of Iceland, home to well under a hundred people, on a coast where the road seems to lead nowhere in particular and then simply keeps going. For those who like quiet, that is the attraction.
The ride here is long and sparsely served. Fuel is the first concern: the settlements are small and far apart, and the nearest stations are at Þórshöfn to the north or farther toward Vopnafjörður to the south. Fill up whenever you see a pump, and carry a little spare if your bike has a small range. The road is mostly paved but has gravel stretches, and the surface can be rough, especially after the thaw. Weather moves fast, and fog is common on this coast, sometimes dropping visibility to a few metres without warning.
The landscape is wide and elemental, with moorland, small lakes and a shoreline of black rock and surf. Seabirds, including puffins in season, nest on the cliffs, and the fishing boats in the little harbour are a reminder that this is a place where people work the sea for a living. The coast has a long history of farming and fishing, and the old turf farms and dried fish racks you may see are signs of an Iceland that existed well into the twentieth century.
There is not much in the way of services. A small shop or café may be open in summer, but do not rely on it. The quiet is the point: wind, gulls and the slow hush of the waves, with the light stretching on endlessly in June and July. Autumn is dark, windy and beautiful, with a chance of the northern lights; if you can bear the cold, it is a time when the place feels more like itself.