Five days in the Foggy Faroes...
Every morning starts out foggy. Some days the sun burns through and the sky actually turns blue. Some days the fog sweeps in and out like waves on a beach engulfing you completely, being blown away, and then rolling back over you again. Some days the clouds fall and the mist, almost heavy enough to be called drizzle, persists, and you end up spending at least part of the afternoon hunkered down in a rustic mountain refuge nursing a hot drink and taking time to chat. But it's all good. When the mist lifts the views are spectacular and when it descends it dampens everything (grass, sound, you) creating a silent fairytale landscape likely inhabited by elves and pixies.
From our base in the capital, Torshavn, we split up and used the extremely modern effecient public transport to explore the islands (4 day pass including unlimited bus and ferry trips and 4 helicopter rides $150 CAD). Drew tried to get to most of the museams and art galleries as the focus for his days, Lili, a knitter and lover of wool products, looked for unique shopping opportunities, and I chose the best of the many day hikes.
The islands are like a giant's fingers rising up from the water with long bands of hills separated by deep fjord-like sounds. The hills, old volcanic flows heavily eroded during the last ice age, and more recently by wind and water, are predominantly orgasmically gorgeous porphoryric amigdaloidal basalt. They are almost completely treeless covered instead with grass and sheep. They are green, very green, and the grass, criss crossed with sheep paths over a thousand years old grows in distinct waves. Steep cliffs protect deep harbours and provide nesting sites for millions of seabirds. Water collects on the hilltops, meanders through alpine meadows, cascades down the hillsides, and falls 100's of meters off the cliffs directly into the sea. Tiny villages, hamlets really, which were isolated for millennia, still retain all their original charm.
Hundreds of km of brand new high quality roads, dozens of impressively long tunnels, bridges, causeways, ferries and associated harbours, and many heliports have all been paid for with EU money even though the Faroes refused to join the EU in order to continue their annual whale slaughters. But I digress. The islands are not yet a major tourist destination, the whole country is one large safe old fashioned village where the honour system is used to pay for coffee and unaccompanied children regularily travel from place to place by land, sea, and air. On any given day you are unlikely to see more than a handful of other people on even the most popular of hikes and you might well be the only one dropped off by helicopter on one of the more remote islands!
The Faroes were not on my bucket list. Not even the extended version. I'd never considered them as a place to go. But I am thrilled to have been. They are fabulous, fantastic, and unforgettable. I could happily have stayed for months.
(#privilegedtobehere)
Every morning starts out foggy. Some days the sun burns through and the sky actually turns blue. Some days the fog sweeps in and out like waves on a beach engulfing you completely, being blown away, and then rolling back over you again. Some days the clouds fall and the mist, almost heavy enough to be called drizzle, persists, and you end up spending at least part of the afternoon hunkered down in a rustic mountain refuge nursing a hot drink and taking time to chat. But it's all good. When the mist lifts the views are spectacular and when it descends it dampens everything (grass, sound, you) creating a silent fairytale landscape likely inhabited by elves and pixies.
From our base in the capital, Torshavn, we split up and used the extremely modern effecient public transport to explore the islands (4 day pass including unlimited bus and ferry trips and 4 helicopter rides $150 CAD). Drew tried to get to most of the museams and art galleries as the focus for his days, Lili, a knitter and lover of wool products, looked for unique shopping opportunities, and I chose the best of the many day hikes.
The islands are like a giant's fingers rising up from the water with long bands of hills separated by deep fjord-like sounds. The hills, old volcanic flows heavily eroded during the last ice age, and more recently by wind and water, are predominantly orgasmically gorgeous porphoryric amigdaloidal basalt. They are almost completely treeless covered instead with grass and sheep. They are green, very green, and the grass, criss crossed with sheep paths over a thousand years old grows in distinct waves. Steep cliffs protect deep harbours and provide nesting sites for millions of seabirds. Water collects on the hilltops, meanders through alpine meadows, cascades down the hillsides, and falls 100's of meters off the cliffs directly into the sea. Tiny villages, hamlets really, which were isolated for millennia, still retain all their original charm.
Hundreds of km of brand new high quality roads, dozens of impressively long tunnels, bridges, causeways, ferries and associated harbours, and many heliports have all been paid for with EU money even though the Faroes refused to join the EU in order to continue their annual whale slaughters. But I digress. The islands are not yet a major tourist destination, the whole country is one large safe old fashioned village where the honour system is used to pay for coffee and unaccompanied children regularily travel from place to place by land, sea, and air. On any given day you are unlikely to see more than a handful of other people on even the most popular of hikes and you might well be the only one dropped off by helicopter on one of the more remote islands!
The Faroes were not on my bucket list. Not even the extended version. I'd never considered them as a place to go. But I am thrilled to have been. They are fabulous, fantastic, and unforgettable. I could happily have stayed for months.
(#privilegedtobehere)
