A Closer Look at Faroe Islands

I'm up at 4:45 a.m., it's quite light out, and Curt is still sleeping so let me try and fill in the gap as we leave Oslo, Norway today and still have to tell you about the far away Faroe Islands. We left you with our arrival. I am one of those travelers who does not do her homework on a place until I'm there and then only if I like it there. I was pretty surprised to find the islands are treeless. Oh there are a few trees in the villages struggling to reach any significant height, still providing for picturesqe gardens. I guess you don't need shade in places that are generally cloud covered. But don't let that fool you, both Curt and I came away from that first day's hike with a bit of sun. Treelessness is part of the stark bleak beauty that surrounds you.

me on Mykines

Treeless isles

So we acquired a car, which as it turns out in spite of the guide books saying you can go by busses everywhere, was a necessity! Our first day's drive from the island of Vagar to Streymoy means you travel a long distance in a tunnel that goes beneath the sea. The couple we talked to on our hike who had been coming to the Faroes for 10 yrs now, gave us our first destination of Sakson. The road beyond the tunnel to the small village, famed for it's black beach and a turf roofed church, was a single lane white knuckle experience. Little did we know that this was just practice for the roads to come. That said the roads in hind site, are in much better shape than the roads in our little hometown.

With the knowledge that we would not have a car for the duration of our stay on the islands we decided to just keep going. This place was so fascinating, and nothing was too far away, so we drove on. Seeing picturesque villages, many with less than a dozen inhabitants. Making our way to the small outpost of Gjogv where we meet Phillip who runs a small kiosk and we have a cup of coffee. Turns out Phillip knows Bisbee, the town where his favorite comedian lives, whose wife's name is Bingo! Yes even in this most remote place on earth our town is made famous. There was something very affirming and reassuring in this recognition, otherwise it might have been hard to believe that we were even on the same planet in this place where there is no poverty or homelessness, or for that matter even a blade of grass out of place! The sheep keeping the countryside mowed and tidy, which is not saying the same for their appearance. Dreadlocked sheep running amuck, with sweet little ones (it is spring after all) playing and hiding under every grassy mound. It must be hard to gather them for sheering, so many sheep don't get shorn.

Sakson Beach church

s

The days don't end this time of year, so you have to keep track of the time simply by exhaustion. We made our way back to Midvagur, and again the inn is quiet. The doors are always open, oh did I mention there is no crime. We find a small restaurant, the Broadway? (it's the only option) in our town to have a mediocre pizza and salad, where's the local fare?

Gasadalur Vagar falls

The next morning we finally meet the inn keeper Marit. She is at first a little standoffish, as the job must make you. Meeting so many new people all the time. She has a thing for antiques and knick knacks or maybe they just are things that never get thrown away and fill up every inch of usable space. There are more tables and chairs than people could possibly use in this small inn. No where to roll out a yoga mat : (  Her method of communication is sticky notes on the mirror in the foyer, until finally we break the ice and she insists that we make it to her other, even smaller, inn on the island of Mykines. This will require a ferry ride and I'm prone to seasickness, so let's wait another day while we still have a car and drive to the furthest outpost.

There is a famous sculpture of the Seal Woman on the island of Kalsoy, it is our destination. This time we have to go through two tunnels that go under the sea, the second is 9 kms and features a light show at it's deepest stretch, sort of a northern lights thing underground/sea. We will also have to take our car on a ferry boat for about 30 minutes, protected waters and a larger vessel, I'll be fine. Once we get to the island a series of one lane tunnels (! you watch for headlights and then find a pull off before the approaching vehicle hits you!) will get us to the town Mikladalur where down a steep flight of stairs (no problem for Bisbeeites) we will find this amazing bronze statue whose survival through incredible storms of 16 meter waves makes for a story of it's own. Her story the myth of the island is worth looking up. From there we make our way to the furthest northern village of Trollanes where we get another coffee at "the last kiosk on earth." We meet Amanda, whose mother has baked a cake for weary travelers, not many make it out there I'm guessing. This very green village is occupied by 12 residents; one is a butcher we look into the open doors to see the meat hanging, one is a metal smith, we bought a candlestick, there is a cow mooing somewhere in a barn (you don't see cows but they exist) ... Amanda is in her early 20s, I'm guessing her parents are both alive, so there's half the town. She drives to the town of Klaksvik to work, through those tunnels, across that ferry regularly. I guess that is where she also finds her peers, but she doesn't seem to need them.

It's early enough in the never ending day to drive further. The island of Vidoy will be our last outpost, as the next island of Fugloy requires a longer ferry boat ride and open seas. I will have to face that trip to Mykines soon enough. We stumble upon Elizabeth's restaurant, and have a very good meal. Food is an issue, fair warning from our taxi driver in Copenhagen. After dinner let's go for a drive. Curt is getting over done at this point, but, "we aren't going to be here again," I remind him, and so we find the tiniest of places, and oldest it turns out, Muli. It is also the buggiest, still there are fresh flowers in the windows of the few homes. I'm starting to feel bad for the folks who are living in the fishbowl of tourists peering into their lives, and understand the plight of our neighbors on High road in Bisbee who are dealing with the endless stream of golf carts touring visitors through Bisbee.

Our supposed last day with a car is going to be a drive to the other end of the island that we are living on, to the village of Gasadalur by way of Bour. I've quit counting the tunnels that get you from place to place. We are hugging the coast and I am sure that the mountain island visible is the town of Whoville whose famous Mount Crumpet where the Grinch lives is the landmark, I bet Dr. Seuss has been here!

Mount Crunpet?

Good news we scored another vehicle, though it will remain parked for the day that we are traveling by sea to Marit's other home of Mykines. There we meet her helpers from the Czech Republic, Hana and Andre, who took this gig from the "Work Away" online site. Seems that their arrival to the Faroe Islands was not much different than our own, not meeting their "boss" for a couple of days and wondering what they were supposed to be doing. Communication is not Marit's strong suit, and she is off doing who knows what all the time. Our arrival to this small bird island late afternoon after a smooth crossing by ferry was easy, our young host and hostess meeting us at the dock. We walk to the small house, climb the steep ladder to the loft where we will sleep, along with Andre and Hana in the middle space, and the Russian family in the room on the other side. Tight quarters and one small bathroom, but ok, it's just one night. We tour the village, find a great little shop and buy a couple of trinkets, our first for the trip, but handmade items have been scarce. After a lovely salmon dinner, Hana is vegetarian and she is suffering from lack of veggie options, we start our evening hike. It has been cloudy all day, but now at 9 pm the sun is out and it's a beautiful day/night. We take a steep, steep, walk up to where the lighthouse is. Along the way we pass a memorial with the names of all the people who have fallen to their demise off the cliffs. Shaky knees, but oh my what beauty, I keep walking. (The "Asatoma Sat Gamaya" chant clicking off the steps I'm taking, yogi friends will know what I'm talking about.) Not all the way to the lighthouse, I realize that I don't have my camera/phone, and have to go back to get Curt's. He is sitting enjoying the view not walking the narrow track occupied by the sheep and silly me.

 Contemplating on Mykines Island

Hana and Andre

Back from our hike Johann the neighbor, has baked us a rhubarb cake. We sit and visit our hosts, sleep well enough and wake to a rainy morning. Our ferry leaves at 11, so more visiting. The issues that we are facing in our country are world wide. The oligarch in power in their country has made Hana's job in the public media unbearable, "fake news" is the international buzz blurb.  The ferry is late, the seas are choppy. I am green just thinking back, but I managed to make the crossing without tossing the leftover rhubarb cake and usual breakfast fare of cheese and sausage.

Inside Marit's Inn on Mykines

Well this post has lasted long enough that Curt is now awake and he will be putting the photos in place. Summing up, we met knew friends from Melbourne Australia at the Magenta Guest House, Robin and Andrew, who we enjoyed having dinner with in the capital city of Torshavn that evening back from Mykines. We went back to Torshavn the next day to visit the museum, catch a concert at the Nordic House and visit a few shops. Every time you go through that tunnel from island to island you are charged a 100 kroner fare, it will show up on our credit card, I think we went through at least a dozen times. It's not cheap to live here, but the government has no military expenses and plenty of money. Everyone lives well with a forced 6 week holiday and education to any university you chose including your room and board, and if you want to visit a doctor everyday, that's ok too.
In the end, The Faroe Islands I hope will remain as magical as they are today. Tourism must be held at bay and the likes of us will not burden them again. I wonder about the folks we met who have been going every year for the past 10, they were hearty Danish octogenarians and that pretty much sums up the reason that they are able to keep going back and don't want to change. But these places are rare and I don't think that the locals will tolerate too much, i.e. they won't show up! You won't have a car to rent, a place to sleep, or food to eat. That should keep the hordes away!

Arnold Ludwig Quintet at Nordic Hus in Torshavn

Robyn and Andrew from Melbourne