There are no bears in Iceland – so the local farmer tells me. Greenland, yes, Canada, yes, Russia, yes (lots of bears there), but Iceland is an island and bears are not great travellers. Nor are there any snakes, by the way. In England, adders prey on the mind and make walking in the countryside just a little bit scary, but Iceland is pristine. The locals are friendly and so is the fauna.  Or so I thought – until I saw bear tracks in the snow. North-east Iceland in April is more winter than spring. I am an all-weather walker and, with the help of snow cleats on my boots, I plunge and scramble daily in the mountains above Lagarfljót, well layered-up against the biting Arctic wind.  And suddenly there they are, fresh tracks on the barren plateau. Surely I am not mistaken? True, I have never seen bear tracks before (or bears, come to that) but I am a connoisseur of bear programmes on the telly and I just have a feeling. Reindeer tracks I am familiar with, but these are something else. Only a bear could make tracks this size. This is awfully bear-like terrain, full of boulders and crags, and I feel vulnerable. My eyes are flicking left and right as I slither back down the mountain and into the safety of the little settlement.  "Are you sure there are no bears in Iceland?" I ask my farmer friend, and the answer is not as unequivocal as I would have hoped. "There are no indigenous bears," he says, "but we do occasionally get a visitor from Greenland." "What, like a bird of passage, you mean; a bear that just comes for a short stay?"  "Something like that." The Icelanders are laconic.  Gradually I piece the story together. Apparently what happens is that a polar bear is sunning himself or herself on the ice shelf off Greenland when a bit breaks off and floats over to Iceland, with the bear still on it. When the bear makes landfall (usually in the west of the country, not the east where I am based), it is naturally hungry from the long journey and a hue and cry goes up, resulting in the bear's being trapped or, more likely, shot. It is a rare event.  People are few and far between in these parts. The place where I am staying consists of just a couple of farms at the head of the Lagarfljót valley. That is why I come – for the solitude. "What if no one spots the bear? What if it slips in unnoticed?" I ask my informant. "It is usually spotted," he replies with a smile. It is that word "usually" that worries me.  "So, did I have a close encounter with a bear up there?"  "No," he says reassuringly, "you had a close encounter with a troll."  Your travel writing could earn you £1,000. That's the prize for our Just Back article of the year. The weekly prize is £200 in the currency of your choice from the Post Office. Email your entry of no more than 500 words (with the text in the email itself rather than attached) to justback@telegraph.co.uk by midnight on Wednesday, July 4.  Click here for more information and full terms and conditions.  The Post Office is Britain's largest travel money provider. It offers more than 70 different currencies with 0% commission on all currency and traveller's cheques. Customers can buy selected currencies over the counter at 8,000 branches and all currencies can be ordered for next-day delivery at 11,500 branches nationwide. Orders can also be placed online at www.postoffice.co.uk
This week's winner of the Just Back travel writing competition wonders if a bear may be on his trail in Iceland.