Faroe Islands. Land of contradictions.
Dateline Faroe Islands.
Sunday 20th July, 2025.
Series 2 Instalment 8
Now that’s a fish hook!
Hands up all of you who have heard of the Faroe Islands. Ok, not bad, now leave them up if you could pinpoint them on a world map in a few seconds. Well that lost a few of you didn’t it. And a gold star if you have actually been here. Looks like I’ll be keeping most of my gold stars today and that’s a shame because this place is really worth a look. For those who weren’t aware it is an archipelago of 18 islands in the North Atlantic Ocean about half way between Iceland and Norway. Most of the islands have permanent residents though some islands can only be accessed by boat or helicopter. The total population is 52,000 and like most places the majority live in a couple of major centres. But that’s enough of the dull, bland stuff. What do we think of it?
The Nix. A mythical creature of the deep who manifests itself as a beautiful horse to lure people into it’s clutches.
To begin with, not a lot really. Due to the really bonkers ferry schedule from Iceland we have to be out of our cabin by 2.00 am to be ready to disembark by 3.00. As we roll out of the bowels of the metal beast we plough headlong into a thick, wet fog. We’ve already decided to make our way south out of the main centre, Torshavn to begin our journey but we struggle to see a damn thing through the gloom. Technically the sun rises just after 4.00 am but it makes no difference. Blindly following some GPS coordinates and riding mostly by feel (feel the bike hit something, change direction) we find the tunnel to the island of Sandoy. Tunnels are a big deal on Faroe, they are everywhere and as the fog slowly lifts just a little we start to understand why.
Tunnels are everywhere. This 3.1km effort services a village of less than 100 people.
The entire island chain consists of a series of long, narrow, steep sided mountains dropping dramatically into the ocean forming magnificent fjords. At several points around each island there are tiny fishing villages, nestled precariously between the mountain and the ocean. Our first glimpse of one of these tiny outposts of humanity has us utterly enchanted. It’s very early so the town is asleep as we wander about marvelling at the quaint, multicoloured cottages, many with grass roofs. Everything is very neat and tidy and like all these villages, the church is the centre piece.
Faroe Islands sheep said to descend from sheep brought here by Vikings over 1000 years ago.
Scraggly sheep wander freely about the roads everywhere and there is evidence of farmers bringing in hay all around but on a minuscule scale compared to Iceland. In fact much of it appears to be done by hand, cut with scythes, raked by hand and hung on fences to dry just as it has been for centuries..
The weather is not improving, there is nothing open, so we make our way back through the pea soup to Torshavn where we find a bus shelter in front of the very modern Tourism Office. I park the bike on the footpath and we drip our way to the awning in front of the office when miraculously the auto doors open and we are in. It’s still only 6.30 am and there is no one around. They must be a trusting bunch these Faroese because there is many thousands of dollars worth of computers and other equipment just lying around. I’m not sure if there was even video surveillance.
After a hearty breakfast at a nearby hotel we consult the map, the GPS and the Norse god of Fog (Fogthor?) and plan to see as much as we can before our 3.00 pm check in time at our accommodation. We have deduced that heading north affords us our best chance of beating the fog and the now constant drizzle. And we are right. We find ourselves riding along narrow strips of tarmac clinging tightly to the edge of stunning fjords. The shores of the fjords are dotted with tiny fishing villages, each as pretty as the last and more frequently now there are large, modern commercial fish farms. Fishing has always been the life blood of the islands but increasingly the fish are farmed instead of the wild catch industry which is slowly dying. We know there are arguments for and against both ways of fishing but surely leaving wild stocks to recover can’t be a bad thing.
In the village of Tjornuvik, accessible only by sea or the single lane road carved into the cliff, and situated at the head of a stunning fjord we find the most authentic traditional lifestyle imaginable. We watch three older men from the village toiling away bringing in huge sacks of hay from the tiny fields, all the while chattering away in Faroese, oblivious to our presence.
Bringing in the hay the traditional way.
Attempting to communicate with the locals is almost impossible as they speak no English and Faroese is notoriously one of the most difficult languages of all to master. Even trying to tell them how much we like their village draws only bemused, polite smiles. But as if to shatter the illusion of bucolic bliss, there is a surf shop at the edge of town catering to tourists who want to go on boat tours of the nearby sea stacks known as the Giant and the Witch.
The giant and the witch from the village of Tornjuvik.
After a solid night’s sleep in a waterfront cabin in the pretty little town of Klaksvik we are greeted by bright sunshine so I decide to hike up a well marked trail to a hilltop at the back of the town.
Klaksvik from the mountain trail behind town.
Near the top my way is blocked by a couple of local farmers who are bringing their sheep down from the mountain. I stand and watch for a long time as these hardy men and their even hardier sheep bound about the rugged hillside. As I turn to leave back down the track the men wave in acknowledgement. Normally I would be disappointed at not reaching the summit but this quiet interaction more than makes up for it.
Another stunning waterfall. Yawn.
By mid morning we are out on the bike exploring more of this rugged beautiful land. Just outside the village of Vidareidi, about as far north west as you can get, on the island of Vidoy we meet Esmar tending his chickens and ducks. Then his wife Irene arrives and we learn a little of each other’s lives. Their story is like something from a fairy tale as they come from neighbouring villages, both had disastrous previous relationships but finally they are happy together. Just as we build this romantic picture of the happy couple living this amazing subsistence lifestyle on the edge civilisation they shatter the illusion by telling us that they have a dairy farm with 120 cows being milked by two state of the art De Laval VMS milking machines (robotic milkers) all housed in a high tech climate controlled barn. They also own 400 sheep. Then to complete illusion destruction they point to a construction sight across the road and inform us that this will be their new restaurant when completed. Sigh.
After popping through another worm hole… err I mean tunnel we find another picture postcard village of maybe twenty houses.
Tiny villages like this abound.
Here we meet a guy hand raking a small field of hay. He tells of the 17 ewes he and his brother keep to help feed their families. There is a small vege patch with mostly potatoes and an old stone animal shelter with grass roof for the sheep. Surely this is the idyllic traditional lifestyle we seek. NO, he is a FIFO worker on a Norwegian oil rig. The farm keeps him occupied during his 3 weeks off.
Ancient farm house
And the contradictions continue. Ultra modern houses share the street with grass roofed, stone walled cottages. Smooth, wide country roads are bordered by ancient dry stone walls. Postcard perfect fishing villages are dominated by the multi million dollar fish farm in the harbour. There are tunnels connecting islands and rather than being just a transit route, some have Laser light images projected onto the walls.
The story of the first settlers over 1000 years ago projected onto tunnel walls.
In fact there is even a tunnel with a round about and an impressive light show included.
To cap it all off, despite being a protectorate of Denmark they are fiercely independent and proud people with their own parliament and the means to be fully self sustaining financially, unlike Greenland as they emphatically point out.
Our final day is marred by lousy weather again so we do what we can to stay dry but it is ultimately pointless so we wait in the ferry terminal where we meet a number of our fellow travellers like Jakob, a tradesman from Denmark doing a five week stint on the islands helping the locals catch up with the workload. There is a shortage of labour on the islands as there is only one percent unemployment. There are two crazy, funny Frenchmen on KTM390s, returning from Iceland just like us. On learning of my plans to ride to Australia they start shouting excitedly that they want to come too. Then there are the true crazies, the bicycle riders and I am so sorry guys but we have lost your names. Just know that we truly respect the level of commitment you guys have to explore this world of ours.
In a few short days we will be joining the Compass Expeditions crew for our Norwegian odyssey. People keep telling us that it is even better than Iceland or the Faroes. But better is just a matter of perception. What is better, what is best? We are sure we will enjoy it regardless.
