Iceland has a way of reminding you how small you are. Attending the RIFT MTB was my second time in the land of fire and ice, and it didn’t disappoint.
The landscape is plentiful in jagged ridges, volcanic deserts, glacial valleys, and panoramic views – it’s a land built to humble.
But it also has some of the best, most epic, and most fun mountain trails that I’ve ever ridden. That’s right, Iceland is a mountain bike destination, now with its own five-day mountain bike stage race, and it might be the most epic on the calendar. (Scroll to the bottom to check out our video!)
This year, the inaugural RIFT MTB (Presented by the team at Lauf Cycles) brought the rawness of Iceland to mountain bike racing. Known already for its RIFT gravel epic, the RIFT MTB turned five days of Iceland’s wild terrain into a mountain bike stage race that was equal parts adventure, survival, and pure unadulterated joy.
What trail was that again? Photo: Antoine Daures
I’m going to put the experience of the RIFT MTB 2025 into words using a Q&A format. It’s something I’ve done before with friends returning from epic races and lifetime trips—their stories were so overwhelmingly packed with info that they could barely describe them. I feel the same. So let’s start from the top.
RIFT MTB – Why a Five-Day Stage Race?
The concept was simple: take everything riders love about the gravel RIFT, but this time explore the Icelandic countryside (and some sheep trails) on the mountain bike.
The result? Five stages, each a showcase of Northern Iceland’s rugged beauty, tied together by its tight-knit community (there’s a sweater joke in there somewhere), and more than you’d think possible in a country better known for sagas than singletrack.
Our buddy Bergur! Photo: Antoine Daures
Who Designed Such a Feat?
Routes, recon, and rowdiness were brought to us by Bergur Benediktsson, an Icelandic mountain bike powerhouse in his own right and Lauf Bicycles’ engineer. He and the team in Iceland wanted to showcase the natural beauty of the surrounding land while also putting riders safely on the best singletrack possible.
Ryan and I rolling through the fields on an oddly sunny Icelandic day, trying to bridge to the group up the road. Photo: Antoine Daures
The race takes place in Northern Iceland and the surrounding areas, with Akureyri (Iceland’s second-largest city) serving as the jumping-off point/central hub. Three out of the five stages started from the hotel in town where most of the teams were staying. For the other two, riders were bused to the start location, along with their bikes (a feat in itself, but more on that later).
Photo: Antoine Daures
Epic-Icelandic Vibes
What’s the format of the race? It’s a duo-race format, so there are no solo riders. Each pair rides together and is scored together, and they must finish within two minutes of each other.
The time is cumulative, so you can have a smoking fast day and take the lead, but a flat or wreck could take you out of that lead just as fast. It makes the racing exciting and rewards consistency, with a dash of luck for good measure. My partner was Ryan Popple, my teammate on Cycle-Smart, a close friend, a super-fast guy, and someone I could spend a lot of time on the bike with, without going bonkers.
What is the vibe of the race? From the moment we arrived at the local hotel (Hotel Akureyri), I could tell this was a different race experience than I was accustomed to.
Everyone was walking around, building bikes, and in awe of the pure wonder of where we were. Many wide-eyed racers (both from sleep schedule changes and Icelandic overload) wandered around the pits, building their bikes, introducing themselves, and engaging in small talk. There were no “race faces” here, no riders in the corner with their Director Sportif planning the day’s attacks. There were riders, enjoying community and the privilege of the experience, happy to take part in something so unique.
Photo: Antoine Daures
Setting the Tone – RIFT Stage One
The opening stage set the tone for the next five days. Riders rolled straight out of Akureyri’s downtown, tracing the fjord before climbing toward the Hlíðarfjall ski slopes.
The stage was a mix of pure pain in climbing and pure elation in the descent through the bike park. It was short, sharp, and stunning—1,480 meters (4,800 ft.) of vertical packed into less than 40 kilometers (24 miles). We raced hard, everyone wanting to be first to the park descent, and then playing catch-up or “drop that group” through the forest.
Photo: Antoine Daures
At dinner that night, however, the tone was set. All the racers and events staff enjoyed a communal dinner. It was like sleep-away camp, where we met new friends, chatted about what their day was like, and how they enjoyed the terrain, everything. A note that yes – we are racing, but we’re all mountain bikers, and this community is deep.
Get Serious
What did you do when you’re not racing/riding? Usually, after a race day, most “super serious” riders would be in the hotel, legs up, getting ready for the next day.
Not here. Even the most serious riders at the RIFT MTB took the time to explore the town, sample the local food (hot dogs), and experience the natural hot springs surrounding it. It was worth the bit of tightness in the morning to experience the landscape. The vibe was appreciative and community-focused. Each team knew how unique an experience it was, and they took total advantage.
The stages took anywhere from two to six hours to complete, not including the time spent on the bus transfers for two of the stages. Which left plenty of time to hang out with new friends (or work – bike news and coaching stops for no one).
Ryan Popple and I hung out with UK buddies from MBUK.com and anyone who was down to explore the Akureyri life. We visited a local pool (pools are a big part of Icelandic culture and are typically warm, although the outside temperature is cool), and, against our better judgment for leg integrity, we took many laps on the water slide.
Some of the crew went to see Múr and took in some Icelandic metal, while others (like us) chose to stay close to the hotel and preserve our legs by watching Hjálmar (Icelandic reggae band) near the hotel.
What Was My Favorite/Most Memorable Stage?
Each stage was different; the first two stages were similar, but then we went off the map. If I had to pinpoint one stage that was the best (and broke me slightly), it would be Stage three, the queen stage; Siglufjörður to Dalvík, with around 6,400 ft of climbing in about 36 miles. This stage pushed my limits; it was epic in every sense of the word.
Like a Mountain Dew commercial and a Red Bull ad campaign all tied into one the day on the bike. The entire day (and the race for the most part), I had “The Pursuit of Vikings” by Amon Amarth or “JaJa Ding Dong” stuck in my head. Both are uniquely suited for the Icelandic landscape and kept me on track.
The stage was billed as “tough,” but I don’t think any of us knew just how unique the tough would be. It was a mix of climbing and descending, which started excellently. The trails were otherworldly. No forests, no trees, just rocks, and carved lines that were deep and filled with hero dirt.
Is That a Glacier?
The absolute epicness of the day started after the second feed zone, where the trail (mountain) pointed straight up. We cleared the first half, and then came the hike-a-bike—lots of hiking and biking. We were climbing up a mountain, to ride across a glacier, and then down the same mountain.
It was now clear (well, not really, as you couldn’t see too far in front of you), this was going to be something new. Footing on the terrain was limited and loose. Carrying the bike, and not dropping it, was a concern, but also “racing” and going hard was a nice distraction from the cliffsides we were scaling.
Finally, we reached the top, took a photo, and started the descent, but something happened.
We crested the summit and could see the snow of the glacier. The terrain consisted of gravel (similar to pea gravel) and volcanic rock. We started the descent, and it was dicey. I hit my brakes slightly, but went faster (wtf, right?!), sliding on the gravel, fishtailing into a boulder. I wrecked and got a rear flat with a few plugable holes. With the team in front of us pulling away, we went into preservation mode.
Take a Breath & Look Around
Gassed (and slightly confused) from the epic climb, we scrambled goofily to fix the flat. I laid the bike down (on the drive-side like a goof) and started working with all thumbs. We managed to plug the holes with a few trusty Dynaplugs, and we appeared to be all set for takeoff. I stood the bike up to examine our work, but Ryan was standing on my chain, and it snapped. Like a kick in the stomach and a punch to the face…but reality hit me; “we’re in Iceland on a mountain, overlooking a glacier – take a breather and look around….WOW”
We got everything fixed and started the descent into Dalvík, where soup (and endless Reykjavik Brewing beer for those who wanted it) awaited.
At this point, I just wanted to complete this stage, but the landscape was too epic to look away, both worrying but stoking my excitement. We traversed more once-in-a-lifetime single-track trails and crossed a hot waterfall on a bridge with no railings. It felt like a power ballet that kept going, but I was looking for the end.
I remember saying to Ryan, “I’m tired of the epic shit, I just need a road right now. I apparently needed a Snickers bar….as I was not myself.” I was ready to hammer home, but the Icelandic wilderness “stood in my way”.
But even after all that hiking while biking, the wrecking, the tiredness, the rain (and/or hail), I was still smiling when we bombed down the everlasting singletrack, weaving through a shallow valley carved by glacial melt. The trail was too good, the scenery too unreal, and I was a little cracked (mentally and physically). I’d like to think a tear rolled down my face…I’m not sure… but it was beautiful. All the emotions in one stage – I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
JaJa, Ding Dong
Stage Four was another big one, starting with a climb through geothermals, colorful mountains, and some impressively maroon-colored dirt doubletrack.
But the highlight was the final trail into Husavík was called “Jaja Ding Dong,” a homage to Fire Saga, and I was happy to see it. And there was more soup at the finish, this time in a cozy wharf house with unlimited fresh-baked bread. In fact, every stage finished with local food from a small local restaurant, adding to the experience in ways few other events manage to do.
What I Rode – Lauf Elja XC
When you race in Iceland, it only feels right to ride a bike born there. Both Ryan Popple and I rode the Lauf Elja. It’s my personal bike, and I’m very familiar with its handling. It’s excellent in the terrain RIFT serves up and feels like a longer-travel machine, making it a perfect choice for the week. Here’s a bike check of my gear, along with a few of my favorite pieces of kit that helped make life easier along the way.
- Frame: The Lauf Elja carbon frame MED (I’m 5’11” for those wondering)
- Fork: RockShox SID Ultimate Flight Attendant with 120 mm travel
- Wheels & Tires: Hunt Proven XC Race, Maxxis Recon/Recon Race 2.35 – Goodyear 2.6 (after shredding Recon Race in a crash)
- Cockpit Roval Control One Piece cock pit (80mmx780mm)
- Seatpost: RockShox Reverb AXS dropper 100mm
- Drivetrain & Brakes: SRAM XX SL Eagle Transmission with a 34T ring 170mm cranks, and SRAM Level Ultimate Stealth 4-piston brakes
- Weight: My Lauf Elja build weighed ~11.7 kg (25.8 lbs) when fully set up with sealant, and Vittoria Air-Liner Lite XC liners
- Flat Support: Dyna Plug and my Viair Recon Mini Rider
- Travel Bike Bag: Thule Round Trip MTB Bag
- In Ride Food: Lots of First Endurance Gels, Drink Mix, and Never Second Bars
- Beer: Víking Gylltur
- Hotdogs: Vegan Lava Dog at Pylsuvagninn in Akureyri
Any Gear Regret or Switchouts?
My gear was excellent, and I wouldn’t have changed a thing. However, I would have carried less on my back in my Velocio pack and depended on the rest stops for food and water. I was slightly worried about running out of water in the lava desert stages and took too much with me daily. The Lauf Elja can easily fit two water bottles (with a side load on the downtube), and it wasn’t an issue, unlike what I had expected. The Hunt wheels were a gamble, though I had faith in them – I’m a big fan.
However, taking an XC wheelset with carbon spokes on a five-day stage race, where the terrain consisted of rocks on rocks, wasn’t a safe choice. The wheels took many hits and more than a few crashes. They earned their place on the race machine and served valiantly. The Hunt Proven XC Race stood up to everything. I put them on the truing stand when I got home, and they were as good as when I left. Excellent performance for an “XC wheel”.
What Was My Crash Tally?
And while you’d expect a race of this scale to rack up a list of crashes and carnage, the injury count was surprisingly tame. I had a handful of crashes, but mostly when I looked down at my Garmin to see the next turn. In a Pavlovian response to the Garmin’s “beep-beep-beep,” I would look down, and then hit a rock, and over the bars I went. (That reminds me, thanks, Trek, for the helmet.)
How about the others? An epic race like this would have an epic crash tally and hospital bills (in the States) to match. But no; just one broken collarbone, one broken finger, and a whole lot of sore butts and legs.
It might as well have been the local weeknight crit with a tally like that. Probably better.
Riders walked (or hobbled) away with more pride and memories than scars. This speaks to the race organizers, who, through pre-race meetings, ensured the riders knew their limits. I was astonished when I heard the list, and it reflects highly on the RIFT MTB support team.
Final Thoughts – The RIFT Rules
The RIFT MTB could have been chaos. Remote stages, volatile weather, and logistical nightmares were all real risks. Instead, it ran like a seasoned classic. The stages balanced brutality with beauty, and the atmosphere was pure Icelandic hospitality.
The race offered riders a full buffet: long climbs, technical descents, exposed ridges, and volcanic moonscapes that can’t be found anywhere else. It tested legs, lungs, my brain, and equipment, but more than anything, it gave riders a story to tell.
And while many expected carnage, the injury list was refreshingly short. The RIFT MTB reminded us that epic doesn’t have to mean unsafe; it just means unforgettable.
Would I go back? Absolutely. The RIFT MTB is more than a race. It was a life experience that I’ll never forget. It pushed me out of my comfort zone, and I’m stronger for it. Additionally, I made many friends and created truly priceless memories. I’m eager to return to Iceland.
Tyler & Watt’s Video Race Report
Taking an entirely different approach to the event, Tyler & Watts were there to enjoy the ride, take a lot of pics, and shoot some video. Regardless of how you approach it, the Rift MTB will raise the bar for what a mountain bike experience can be. All of us highly recommend it, and here’s a little taste to get you stoked on it, too!
Check out the full details of the RIFT MTB here.
