Travelling Hopefully - The Old Hamlet

The next day I (along with random others) was picked up for the next tour. My status had obviously increased as our guide today was the owner of the company.  This guy deserves a documentary made about him. He served several years in the Danish army including at least one tour in Afghanistan, became a fisherman, had to be evacuated out of the north Atlantic when it turned out he had MS and then set up a tour company because “I have three kids so I can’t lie on the floor doing nothing’. He’s only thirty six. Having succeeded in making at least one of his clients feel utterly inadequate he proceeded to tell us about our day.

Having visited the isle of lakes and airports yesterday today would be a more gentle assignment being taken to a couple of spots on the island we currently occupied plus a quick visit to its near neighbour. So near in fact that there’s a bridge between the two which claims to be the only bridge across the Atlantic Ocean. Possibly true but it has to be admitted that the Atlantic is rather skinny here.

To understand Faroes scenery you have to know its history. They were raised above sea level by volcanic activity and were then scoured down to the bare essentials by glaciers. The result is a rugged and almost treeless terrain split by streams and with settlements clustered around those areas of the coast flat enough to drag a longship ashore.

Our journey today took in the Faroes highest waterfall, a black sand beach which is apparently the only surfing beach on the island and a narrow gorge open to the sea which has still blue, green water that rapidly becomes snarling white flecked grey the moment the gorge meets the sea.

Our journey also took in sheep. Sheep are difficult to avoid on the Faroes, they’re freaking everywhere. There aren’t any huge flocks rather there are just random sheep dotted anywhere there is some open patch of green. Most of the Faroes is an open patch of green and the fact that much of this open space is at a forty five degree angle doesn’t seem to bother the sheep too much.

According to our guide it is still legal to throw a sheep thief off a cliff “Although we don’t do that anymore.” One wonders when they stopped, last April? You can mull over the morality of that while dining on a meal of pilot whale and puffin; two local delicacies I have no intention of trying. You can ascribe my refusal to moral sensitivities if it amuses you to do so.

Sheep and seafood are the mainstay of the Faroese diet because the soil is too poor and thin to grow much. Potatoes and rhubarb are apparently the only crops one can reasonably rely on. Our guide cheerfully informed us that any vegans would starve.

Having gazed in wonder at the somewhat bleak but undeniably impressive miracles of nature (see below) we pointed the minibus in the direction of Torshavn in the middle afternoon.

Gorge

The minibus dropped me at Torshavn football stadium so I could get a team shirt and our guide suggested I walk back to town through the forest.  Forest?? It’s rare to see two trees together in the Faroes but this was actually a park with a creek and especially planted trees presumably so the locals can get familiar with them so they aren’t scared when they travel overseas.

Once back in Torshavn I strolled through the old town. Here people still live in the fourteenth century homes of their ancestors. Well somebody’s ancestors anyway, it’s a safe bet they’re not around any more. It took me about thirty seconds to stroll through and then I turned around and strolled back through it again. It was more of an old village than an old town. Possibly even an old hamlet.