Faroe Islands

The Faroe Islands lie remotely in the central northern Atlantic between Iceland and the Shetland Islands.

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I boarded the Smyril Ferry bound for the Faroe Islands. I found my cabin dropping off the luggage and headed out to find my way to a deck.

Choking up a little standing looking out onto the Hirtshals harbor from a deck of the ferry, I'd reached my 'pivot' travel day. The ferry ticket purchase set the date that the rest of my voyage has been hung. Now, after three and half months of plane, trains, bicycling, and walking I was about to travel into the North Atlantic.

It turns out there is no passport control between Denmark and Faroe Islands. Hmmm, I'm curious how my Schengen day calculation will play out. If my time in the Faroe Islands is included against my Schengen Area days, I'll be in violation. The last passport stamp has me entering Denmark, a Schengen Area country. The Faroe Islands are not in the Schengen area. This could either be a non-event or a serious discussion. It'll either happen in Iceland this trip or some future trip back to Europe. The Smyril Norrona vessel flys the Faroe Island flag. My naive understanding is that once on board I'm effectively in the Faroe Islands so my Schengen area day clock should have stopped accumulating time. (Well, the boat keeps making announcements that time onboard is that of the Faroe Islands!)

The ferry's route will take us south of Norway, across the North Sea, and north of Scotland's Shetland Islands. I'll pass north of North Sea oil and gas fields I worked on over two decades ago while living in Aberdeen.

The seas and skies are very calm. The boat barely sways. I know the North Sea can be dramatically violent because a platform accessing one of the oil fields I worked on required repairs due to massive waves.

The Smyril Norrona ferry is large and feels so for the first few hours. There are many families on board with children of all ages frequently scampering up and down the halls and passageways. There is a duty free on board and several restaurants. I reserved a shared cabin for four people, but no one else joins me; it would have been cramped shared as the luggage seems to have exploded depositing belongings everywhere. The binoculars on the open deck are a nice feature that I used looking at Norway. trying to spot platforms during the night, and gazing at Saturn.

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A steady 21mph of the ferry on an vector for the Faroe Islands. There were two notable sightings on a voyage of calm grey seas. The first occurred as we passed the northern tip of the Scottish Shetland Islands. There appeared to be a large steel structure being built maybe in service of North Sea oil and gas. A sailboat heading east drew my respect. An important lighthouse slipped past as the ferry headed into the North Atlantic Ocean. We passed a couple of slowly moving vessels headed southwest. Somewhere toward the mid point of the passage from the Shetlands to the Faroe Islands I spotted a whale! The second notable sighting. I wasn't trying to see one as I considered the odds very low. It came close to the boat. I could distinctly see its dorsal fin and maybe with some picture I could identify the type.

Luggage had to be out of cabins 1-1/2 hours before arrival into Torsvne. I left mine on the fifth deck where the gangway will be connected and sat down in the cafe/bar at the top of the ferry as dusk descended patiently waiting to glimpse land on the grey horizon. The fog would come and go leading to seeing land one moment and then nothing but grey the next.

Then the flog seemed to vanish and Torshavn came into view. I moved about on the upper viewing deck to observe how the captain swung and squeezed the large vessel to rest at the pier. It made me one of the last people to leave with people already boarding. The only customs requirements were a sniff by a dog. Ten thirty at night and light remained to begin the walk to the camping area. I'd originally planned to stay in a hotel, but an unusual check-in requirement and several months of camping lead me to switch my plans. I was glad I had. The walk along the coast to the camping ground was captivating and ironically, I arrived there just as the caravans and motorcycles from the ferry did - it took them considerable time to exit the ferry. The greeting from a man speaking English was friendly and without checking that I'd paid or even had a reservation, he pointed to where to pitch my tent and we said goodnight to each other. Torshavn has some of the nicest facilities I've seen! Bathrooms with showers. A kitchen and a dining room. And a place just to sit and relax. The pitch for the tents is grassy overlooking the Atlantic Ocean. It didn't take me long to drift off to sleep.

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One never knows how crowded the facilities will be in the morning. I planned to get up at 7AM and was encouraged when I heard another alarm in a nearby tent go off. A number of people walked through their morning routines without tripping over each other. An Australian helped me as I opened cupboards looking for things. I had a quick breakfast and broke camp in the misting rain.

The rain failed to threaten enough to require full rain gear for the walk into Torshavn town centre. I stumbled about a bit until I found an open coffee shop. I asked the young woman barrister how she was and she responded 'tired'. The last three days had been spent in celebration of the Faroe Island becoming a nation. I'm sorry I missed it as decorations and venues were coming down all over town in the grey morning light.

I'd planned to rent a bike and take the bus to the AirBnB I'd reserved. The helpful older lady at the bus terminal actually called a bus driver to determine that no bus was going to my destination today. And, in fact, I'd have to call a number to request the bus the night before I needed it. She provided the phone number. There is a published bus schedule, but there must be some fine print somewhere about this calling business on this particular bus. Additionally, I couldn't take the bike on that bus as it is just a van. I could cycle that leg of the journey, but at 16 miles and with the nearest grocery store from the AirBnB about 7 miles each way and the constant threat of heavy mist to rain, I very very reluctantly decided I would have to rent a car.

Google maps in a rare goof had the car rental place in the wrong location. I and another couple were tripped up by it. Fortunately, I found the correct place and Torshavn offers free bus service about town (Google got that part right). The rental agency came through with my last minute request. The car had to be driven from the airport located on another island. I went to the grocery store while waiting so that worked out. The car didn't come with any gas (the warning light came on immediately), a warning light was lit on the instrument cluster, and a low tire pressure warning turned on. I put some gas in and ignored the other warnings.

Now, there is a shortcut under the ocean from Torshavn to where I needed to go. It apparently has a round-about down there. I might have to pay the $25 toll fee just to see it, but I opted to take the long scenic route today. I was concerned that haven't not driven for over three months I might be rusty. No chance! I did fine AND the car is a six speed manual; I can't tell you how long it's been since I drove a manual.

The AirBnB located in Selatrað is a bit of a museum. It looks like a place your great grandmother lived in. It does have running water, but no shower, bath tub or internet. I believe the thoughts running through my head when I booked this six months ago were 'cheap' and 'remote'.

Selatrað is one of the oldest landings in the Faroe Islands, as it goes back to Tórður from Strond in Norway, who fled from Harald Fairhair in the year 900 to the Faroe Islands. Now it has a dozen homes scattered about and some kind of business down on the water.

After settling in, I decided to take advantage of the long days and the dry weather and walk. The VisitFaroeIslands.com sight lists a hike near here. There is no path except those made by the sheep on the very steep grassy hillside with occasional short cliffs and a stopping point in the wet cold waters between the islands. A couple of fences posed as obstacles.

The greens here define green. They are brightly vivid richly effervescent green green green. A super deluxe box of Crayola Crayons with the 64 colors doesn't have a green in there to match this. No Photoshopping is necessary to punch up the vibrancy. Faroe Islands is to green what Castle Valley and Arches is to desert red only this green lights up like neon.

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Not sure why, but I found myself feeling fatigued and languished at the window staring out upon the water between this island, Eysturoy, toward Streymoy (the island that Torshavn sits on). The weather around 15C with broken patches of sun and no wind probably couldn't be finer for the Faroe Islands.

The tent needed drying after the heavy mist camping upon my arrival. When would sun arrive again for the task? Dry and put away after a couple of hours the opportunity knocking finally dragged me from the house for a walk.

The first instinct was to climb into the car to head for a loop trail on the northeast side of the island. Three hundred meters from the house I couldn't feel the tether connection to my phone and had to turn back. I grabbed the phone with the striking realization that the hike I had in mind could almost be reached from where I was standing. The AirBnB owner shared that hiking anywhere in the Faroe Islands is acceptable providing one stays out of gardens. The fourth highest point on the island stood behind and above the house so why not hike up it and leave the car to pass the time parked?

No trail up the 2484ft mountain, Reydafelstinedur, existed. Ah, my most favorite kind of hike. Off I set choosing a route based on the Gaia App topographic map and visual surveillance up steep grassy slopes weaving through a couple of cliff bands. The expectation of turning back due to inclement weather formed my expectation. Higher I climbed delighted at the good traction over the very steep grassy slopes and granite. I must have passed near some bird's nests as twice frantic birds swooped about me calling incessantly. Not being thoughtful, I spent a few minutes looking about curious about what the nests look like and where they were. I reached the first of two major broad reduced slope intervals noting that the weather held so continued upward. There were a few sheep that stared at me from afar. Reaching the second reduced slope interval the grass thinned being replaced by mats of green moss between slightly loose rocks. I found the ground here anchored giving the hiker confidence of not slipping so unlike the Rocky Mountains.

The topographic map showed a broad ridge line leading to the summit. The clouds at this elevation swept in and out and seemed to thicken leading to a foggy condition with limited visability. Aiming for the midline of the ridge I arrived at a line of standing rocks heading up the slope. My heart skipped a beat and vertigo set in! What the! The topo lines were wrong! Instead of a broad ridge I stood at the precipice to a cliff several hundred feet high! (I find that in growing older I grow more fearful of being exposed to such heights!) I backed away feeling a little woozy. (The topographer must have only had images of the region covered in clouds and 'winged' it on the topo lines.) Five minutes later I did not stand on the top, but touched the top with outstretched hand while leaning on the rocks as the original cliff face met a second cliff face at right angles forming the top of the mountain. I managed to peak over and down this second cliff face with the clouds swirling by - high enough!

The weather had held to my delight as I slowly started back down. The hike down took another route to avoid the steepest parts of the hike up. Trickling water courses are everywhere and sometimes even under the thick tundra vegetation filling the gaps between the grey granite rocks. There are few flowers probably attributable to being late in the season. Some purple ones look like heather. I linger on the walk down taking in the spectacular sights of peaks on nearby islands and the sea in between as the clouds partially clear and lift slightly.

Nature gifted me today with favorable hiking conditions. The skies weren't clear, instead a cloud veiled mistress hinting at further beauty seducing one to return again.

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A blanket of clouds covers the sky today. The wind blows steadily from the northwest raising whitecaps on the water. No moisture falls in the 12° C temperature.

The weather offers no deterrent to a couple of, what look like ten year old boys, bouncing on a trampoline while kicking a ball. The are about the only activity in this small community.

I remain inside most of the day venturing out only in the early evening for a brief walkabout.

Some of the homes have living roofs. The water for some of the homes seems to come from pipes laid up the side of the hills and placed in the many streams that flow continuously. The streams occur about every 200 meters along the side of the hill. A water shortage the Faroe Islands doesn't have. A couple of areas fenced off from the sheep have diverse healthy forests. A presenter on the ferry said that the islands once had forests but that the sheep destroyed them.

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The car with me behind the wheel took me places on Eysturoy Island today. First stop was the village of Saltangara for a coffee and pastry which turned out to be the bakery. The lady behind the counter upon first entering didn't speak English; she quickly vanished and an older lady appeared who could converse with me. Seems a coffee shop doesn't exist on this island. Coffee is sold in places like, the bakery, florist shop, grocery store, clothing store, or many places but only as a sideline. The coffee the machine dispensed didn't satisfy my craving but it helped.

From here I visited Toftavatn park, Rituvik, Aeduvik, Lamba, Sydrugota, Gotugjogv, Nordragota, and Fuglafjordur. Fuglafjordur and Saltangara had the largest populations probably about 2000 people at most. I bought groceries in Saltangara and the young ladies didn't speak English.

Several villages had signposts with maps and lists of places to see in English which I really appreciated. I often couldn't find the places listed because signs on the buildings don't seem to exist. A couple of times I was embarrassed as I found myself looking into someones private home.

One sign mentioned a trail to a neighboring village. On the spur of the moment I decided to hike it. It went almost straight up 1000ft before reaching the saddle in the ridge line. The trail had been in use since the 1800's. It had metal railings on the exposed rocky sections. The saddle felt like a Venturi tube! While the hike up had exhibited relatively mild wind, once in the saddle I feel the wind must have been in excess of 50mph! I could barely stand. I had concerns of getting blown off a nearby cliff.

The days drive was perhaps 70km providing more views of fishing villages and dramatic basaltic mountains covered in green plunging into the grey-royal blue ocean.

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I awoke about 2AM and peered outside. The shortest night of the year now lies over a month in the past and it shows in the darkness of the sky. Street lights line the single track road that dead ends near the house. The image conveys winter's view here.

A leisurely breakfast and some laundry done before a vicious loud bark panicked me while opening the car door. The bark belonged to a german shepard often seen walking with a middle aged man. His name which can barely say let alone spell is Boya (phonetic spelling). He spoke good English. Born, raised, and living now just a few houses away he described himself as an inspector architect. His 14 year old fraternal daughters have settled down in their teenage years. (Don't most youth do just the opposite?) His son starts preschool this season. His in-laws live in the house next door to me. (They previously drove over my rainfly I had out drying on the pavement without slowing down which surprised me a bit. I didn't think of it as a road so much as the driveway to this and their houses.) He settled the dog down and with me standing in the car door we chatted over the hood for about 10-15 minutes. He calmly stood there smiling and looking at me listening and interjecting things about himself occasionally without asking me much of anything. I observed no body language and heard no statements I thought indicated he wanted to leave. His wife drove past pausing only long enough for them to have eye contact. There were several of those pregnant pauses as we both just stood there; I filled them first. He smiled the entire time. I was acquiring some great information about the Faroe Islands and his life story, but began to feel the tug to be on my way. I believe there were cultural nuances taking place that neither of us understood. I thanked him for the conversation and climbed into the car. He remained standing there and we waved as I pulled down the drive where the rainfly had been run over.

I got out and visited two villages today: Gjogv and Eidi. I passed by Funningur that I looked at from the road above.

I passed the trailhead to hike up the tallest mountain in the Faroe Islands. Three young men started up in a light rain with the mountain encrusted in clouds. I sat in the car in the carpark and looked at the topo map contemplating the hike. Hmm, 1500ft about 3 miles round trip - not bad. Hmm, the trail goes straight up across grass and rock bands, it's wet, and views will be non-existent. Nah, maybe another day when the sun comes out on top.

The Island of Kalsoy showed itself today. This island has been featured in one of the 007 movies. A sightseeing outfit features white buses with '007' emblazoned on the side that take people to the island. I've read the ferry service can be in big demand and returning a problem. Some one suggested taking the tent in case I have to spend the night. I'm thinking the view I had today of the island might be sufficient.

Instead the towns of Gjogv and Eidi treated me to some charming village and ocean views and a hot cup of coffee. And I drove over a pass of a single track road winding its way up a steep mountain with hairpin turns worthy of the Alps.

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The theme of today is tunnels. The road trip took to Vidareidi on the island of Vidoy took a little over an hour each way. On the return trip I took short side trips to the village of Arnafjordur on the island of Bordoy and the village of Kunoy on the island of the same name. I stopped in Klaksvik and walked a central area to take in a music festival.

The outgoing drive to Vidareidi involved four tunnels. The first being the under ocean tunnel between the islands of Eysturoy and Bordoy. The two lane road descended rapidly bottomed out with a section of blue lights and then climbed rapidly before emerging at the outskirts of Klaksvik the second largest city in the Faroe Islands. The cost was 100 Danish Kroner or about $15 automatically charged using the license plate. (The car rental agency collected an extra 2000 Danish Kroner in anticipation.) After passing through Klaksvik the next two back-to-back tunnels are single lane with lights controlling traffic flow in each direction. These tunnels are dark. It feels like traveling deep into a mine with the tunnel closing in at times. Pullouts exist about every 200 meters to allow for passing, a holdover from when vehicles traveling opposite directions could be in the tunnels at the same time. Shallow points exists in the ocean between some of the islands and the roads judiciously use them; a bridge connects Streymoy and Eysturoy Islands and earthen bridges connect Kuno to Bordoy and Bordoy to Vidoy. Three of the single lane tunnels I passed through are being replaced with two lane tunnels.

The northern most village of Vidareidi lies in a green shallow saddle. No services exist here except for the standard white and red church which all the villages possess. Upon leaving I took the original and alternate road that hugs the western steep hillside of the island. Between the two single lane tunnels on the island of Bordoy I turned off to make the 1 km drive down to the village of Arnafjordur. I confess that by this time all these charming seaside villages resting on steep hillsides with manmade harbors begin to look similar.

The hike up Villingadalsfjall on the island of Vidoy cost $20 collected by a enterprising young man. I visualized that his family said, "Sure, you can keep whatever you can collect." The climb was very steep, but then that's the norm in the Faroe Islands. Though clear at the top when I left, by the time I arrived clouds had settled in mostly obscuring the views. Fortunately a short distance off the top, the clouds cleared to allow spectacular views of the surrounding islands. I met a family from France and another group of French as well. The cliffs at the top in the mist didn't startle me as on a previous hike; I anticipated them this time.

Leaving the village of Vidareidi after the hike, I pulled over at miniature village. Immediately an older couple with their 1+ year old grandson pulled up. The man struck up a conversation with me. I found out that his nephew is the person who created the tiny Disney'esq village.

Arnafjordur was named after a Norwegian town and originally settled by them. In centuries past, the spring council was held in this village where judges decided punishments. This village like most has an informative sign about the village. This one included a description of a short walk to an old mine (no description of what was mined). Now I chuckle, because as in other spots around the islands, the trail goes for a spell and then either the markers cease or, as in this case, ends up in someone's garden or private door. There have been several 'sights' or 'museums' that I gave up trying to find.

The next stop to the village of Kunoy took me through a single lane tunnel requiring the use of the pullouts. I had the right-of-way going, but had to pullout on the return to let a truck pass. I found discerning distances in the 2 mile long tunnel difficult pulling over far sooner than I needed. The village of Kunoy as the reputation of being the plantation paradise on the island. I was hard pressed see anything different here but why not! The very tiny village is very charming surrounded by dramatic mountains and the water at it's toes.

Today has been unusually calm. I was told by a couple of people the reason being the islands block the prevailing winds now from the south protecting the northern end of the islands.

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A person I chatted with shared they really enjoyed Saksun because of the traditional sod roofs and stone walls. I decided to go there today. The little over an hour drive spends not quite half that distance on a single lane road winding along side cascading creeks. The first creek flows one direction and then somewhere along the green grassy valley with steep sides the second creek jumps in to flow the opposite direction indicating descent back toward the ocean. Just when I began to think I'd seen all the Faroe Island subtleties, this valley shows something new. I felt like I was on the edge of alpine wilderness. Several hikes could be taken up the valley walls, but today a 1500+ft climb wasn't on the agenda.

Saksun being a popular tourist destination means one must find pullouts often to let opposing cars pass. A small grouped collection of traditional buildings does exists in Saksun. One building has a museum and coffee shop. Today their credit card system didn't work - cash only - so I had to pass on both. Most of the two dozen buildings in the area were of more modern construction. I took the walk down toward the bay with the idea of turning the corner so I could see out toward the North Atlantic. The sign mentions going at low tide and even though the tide appeared out, it apparently wasn't low enough. I chose to turn back when rock climbing or wading was required. I did garner a glimpse of the Atlantic. The area sports some of the most intense greens I've seen - that is saying loads! There are a number of long dropping waterfalls as well.

A correction...The total population of the Faroe Islands is 54k. Torshavn has about 15k and Klaksvik is the second largest town.

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Today's plan arose from a comment by a French man I spoke to at the summit of Villingadalsfjall two days prior. He mentioned how much he enjoyed the puffins. I researched it and found there is a large colony on Mykines Island from April to August. The ferry constitutes the tricky part. It runs several times a day, but the mornings going to the island and the afternoons returning are booked. The 4:20PM afternoon ferry trip to the island is void of people and the midday return from the island likewise. Ahh, and I have a tent! Maybe I can take the afternoon ferry and spend the night. Yes, a campsite exists on the island. I sent off an email asking about availability yesterday evening after 8PM. This morning the response said I was welcome and to be sure and pay the 150 Kroner for the tent site and 250 Kroner for the hiking fee (about $60) at the Local Cafe in town. Before the response I'd already committed to going out on the ferry. I thought there has to be space for a small tent somewhere. They won't make me swim back.

(Don't even attempt to pronounce Mykines! The way the Faroes say it and the way it is spelled are very different. They say it with about 3 to 5 syllables!)

Just in case weather delayed my return from the Mykines island. I took all my things and tidied up the AirBnB leaving the key in the lock box. The ferry schedule warns that schedules can be canceled at any time due to weather at the captain's prerogative.

The drive took 1-1/2 hours and traversed half the small island country. I drove through the second of the three under ocean/sea tunnels. So I'm on the island of Eysturoy. The route crosses a bridge to Streymoy and an under ocean tunnel brings you to Vagar Island. Then you catch the ferry to Mykines.

I believe the Faroes are either egalitarian, shrewd, or both. The international airport is on the island of Vagar. To get to the capital of Torshavn one has to travel through the under sea tunnel that costs 100 Kroner each way (~$13). So they get everyone that flies in and rents car to help pay for the tunnel. Additionally, getting from the airport to Torshavn can be done by bus, but most people rent a car - additional income for the islanders. Putting the airport on Vaga helps to spread the wealth around the country; if they'd put it close to Torshavn (which looks possible to me), they'd loose revenue for the tunnel and car rentals and keep money on just one island.

A fairly steady rain paints the weather picture today. Not the best for a trip to an island, but the seas are calm. I had all day to kill so thought I'd do the hike Traelanipan hike to see the 'hanging' lake and waterfall just outside of the village of Midvagur. The carpark was packed. The rain fell consistently as people slogged back to their cars clearly soaked. I contemplated my gear and the prospect of being wet climbing into my tent at the end of the day deciding what the hey. The young woman at the trailhead coffee shop smiled sweetly at me, turned to a computer monitor with the weather forecast by hour for the next day, and pointed out all the sunshine icons tomorrow. I ordered a cup of coffee, wished her a good day, and climbed back into the car. Instead I visited a waterfall at Gasadalur.

The drive to Gasadalur took me past the airport and the town where I'd be catching the ferry a few kilometers further. From the seaside road I could see the jagged islands the ferry would pass and the island of Mykines not far off. The road turned into the mountain becoming a single lane tunnel that climbed up and then dropped back down. Emerging the road ended at the handful of houses called Gasadalur - wow! What a remote place! A sign reports that until the completion of the tunnel the mail was delivered twice a week by the postman hiking over the dramatic - of course steep and grassy - hillside. A boat ramp exists, but I couldn't even see the bottom it was so steep; it looked more like a belay exercise. But there also exists a dramatic waterfall of a couple hundred feet into the ocean.

Ready to enter the car, I noticed a man talking with another driver. I was rather certain he was looking for a ride back. It turns out he and his two +/- 30'ish Swedish daughters (yes, the classic blond, blue eyes, and beautiful) had hiked over the postman route, didn't want to hike it back because of its exposure, and didn't have lights to hike through the tunnel. So I gave them a ride and enjoyed hearing about the virtues of Swedish archipelago islands and long distance iceskating (using the long blades).

The rain fell in earnest as the ferry headed out to sea. I hid on the upper deck of the small craft out of the rain and spray to take photos. There a conversation started with a man from Melbourne, Australia, two weeks retired. Other than he, his wife and their couple friends, it was just workers on the ferry. The tiny dock, in a craggy seascaped part in the rocks where the sea met the cliffs, was loaded with the days tourists. I was so happy, even in the rain, to be getting off the almost empty boat to an almost empty island. A steep climb up from the boat brought me to the village of a couple dozen homes and nothing else on this island a few miles long. I met the lady at the Local Cafe open for a handful of locals to enjoy some smoked salmon and chat and the arrival of whatever the ferry brought them. She took my credit card directed me up just pass the church and the black house with the brown window trim and said any sight I wanted on either side of the creek. The WC is in the opposite direction and perhaps I saw it on my way to the cafe from the ferry.

I pitched the tent in a light rain in a tiny tiny village of stone and wood with sod roofs overlooking the ocean and a puffin colony up high on the ridge line. I am the only tent.

The rain turned to a sputter while I set my sights on finding a puffin colony. The cliffs are dramatic. The puffins number in the thousands and for the most part let one walk past them within meters. The signs say to stay on the trail because the puffin nexts are burrows in the steep grassy slope. I see puffins entering and emerging from holes in the earth. The sign says to be quiet and not to stop in the colony. I avoid eye contact except sometimes I just have to look and take a photo! They make cooing sounds. The place smells like a bird latrine. At times their flight reminds me of big bumble bees with their wings flappy madly and their round bodies. They have bright orange webbed feet. There are so many puffins and the way they are lined up on the ridge line I feel like I've entered a benign version of Alfred Hitchcock's movie The Birds.

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The wind whipped hard this morning. It proved almost too much for the tent as it almost flattened it with me inside. A buckle connecting the rainfly to the ten broke; I'll have to see about a replacement or a fix of some kind. With the wind came sun with a sky still scattered with clouds. The sunshine would be short lived as the day turned to intermittent rain.

I took a walk up to the puffin colony. The scene changed from yesterday. I suspect last night the birds were tired with full bellies so that they couldn't be bothered by my presence. About one third the birds stood about and they all felt a little skittish as compared to earlier. They remained charming to observe yet I didn't linger.

The return ferry to Vagar Island had more people on board than I anticipated. I watched as some locals had their luggage lowered the long way to the small cay on a sled attached to a cable. The ferry captain keeping in mind most of his clients brought us on a scenic route back passed the Tindholmur island to see the dramatic shark fin outcrop. A French photographer struck a conversation with me eventually commenting on what he felt was the abysmal healthcare system in the USA leading to homelessness; it was interesting to hear his perspective.

I drove to Traelanipa to make the four mile round trip hike to see the high cliffs and suspended lake with its waterfall above the ocean. The wind gusted leading me to carefully handle any loose items like the lens cap. I also ventured very cautiously to the edge of cliffs with the idea that a gust might carry me off. The views of the cliffs, ocean, and southern Faroe Islands made the hike well worth it.

Then it was back through the undersea tunnel connecting Vagar and Streymoy islands to return to the AirBnB.

I had not planned originally planned on the visit to Mykines Island. I would have missed the Faroe Islands had I not.

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Yet another travel day. Rainbow after rainbow emerged in the morning light as light showers and strong winds swept passed the house. I cleaned, packed, and returned the rental car before spending a few last hours in Torshavn on the Faroe Islands. I visited the Art Museum displaying local artists going back to 1830. A number of the works were inspiring. Seeing the works after visiting places around the island gave greater meaning to many of the pieces. Recognizing the places brought satisfaction as did connecting with the colors and shapes as they portrayed what I'd seen with the sea, rocks, and sky. Torshavn has a beautiful forested park that follows the creek flowing through town. Metal sculptures add to the ambiance of the forest walk trails. A visitor to the town would reward themselves to take a walk there.

Arriving at the ferry dock, a large ferry was being boarding by many mother's with small children. They knew just where to go passing the closed Smyril check-in window. I thought this curious. Then I noticed that the ferry was not the one I was expecting to be on. As cars and passengers boarded two hours before the originally planned departure time, I became increasingly curious. The friendly lady without her glasses checking tickets helped me look at the Smyril website schedule. I'd asked if she worked for Smyril and apparently misunderstood her original response because the ferry being loaded was the Faroes transportation ferry and not Smyril. We ascertained from the website that the Smyril ferry wouldn't be departing until tomorrow night at 9:30PM! The pieces of the puzzle began to fit together: the lack of cars, mothers with young children, loading so soon, and the wrong ferry. I walked across the street to the Smyril Ferry office to confirm the information. The lady there invited me to relax and enjoy myself as, yes, weather delayed the departure of the ferry from Hirtshal, Denmark.

My schedule fixated American culture instincts couldn't relax. I would be missing non-refunable and non-changeable flight and accommodations in Iceland. I would need to delay the pickup of the rental car. Relax?!? What choice do I have. I walked to the Torshavn campsite, pitched my tent, and paid for a night through the internet. Met an American from Washington state romantically fixated on Vikings, the Faroes language, and hoping to obtain a Faroe Island visa. Then walked to Bonus, the nearest grocery store, to buy food for the next day. Relax? I guess that's just what I'll do.

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A sunrise! I actually witnessed a sunrise today! The combination of the sun rising later and me rising earlier intersected. A bright orange sun rose above the North Atlantic Ocean wedged between the horizon and a layer of clouds. It never showed itself the remainder of the day.

I'd slept well. Concerned that the kitchen and dining area would become crowded I went in early to make coffee and have some breakfast.

I met a German 3-D sign maker cycling from southern Germany, Manfert (sp). His company name is timbersigns.com. He walked me through the components of his bike which I found very well thought out: Rohloff internal hub gear and dynamo front hub with steering downtube battery for running lights and charging a phone caught my eye.

I walked north to the Faroe Islands History Museum. I first come upon the open air section with its stone and wood buildings and sod roofs. I learned that imported birch had been used as the underlayment for the sod in the past. More modern homes are using geothermal heat pumps for heating. The Faroe Islands were once near the volcanic hot spot that now sits underneath Iceland as part of the Mid Atlantic Ridge. The Faroe Islands formed 60 million years ago while Iceland is on the order of 20 million years old. Fishing has been important for Faroe since the 1800's. These and many other glorious facts about the Faroe Islands and its people are available for the learning at the museum. The displays and artifacts are excellent. I would highly recommend going should you visit the islands.

The boarding and departure of the Smyril Ferry the Norrora in the dark evening with low clouds and spitting rain took place smoothly. The last items to be loaded were a half dozen Smyril tractor trailers. I was fascinated by the truck used to pull the trailers. The driver seat, controls and instrument cluster all swiveled 180 degrees allowing the driver to look at the trailer without twisting.

Ok, that's it for the Faroe Islands. I went down to my berth to wake up close to Iceland.