IMAGES: ALAMY; GETTY; AWL IMAGES
FAROE ISLANDS
T
he weather is famously fickle in the Faroe Islands. In the mountains, roads vanish into fog within seconds; by the sea, winds howl with such force that coastal waterfalls are sent streaming skywards. Haircuts take on an unintentional punk-rock edge. But
on the afternoon of my arrival, the skies are a rare, perfect blue. Everything shines. It’s early spring and, through my windscreen,
the northern light is giving the ocean an ever- variegated mackerel shine. But it’s not just the water that glints — the very air seems to sparkle, wrapping the village of Gásadalur in an almost ethereal glow. Lying on the western edge of Vágar Island,
Gásadalur is one of the most remote villages in the Faroe Islands, home to no more than 30 people. I’m making my way there along one of the Buttercup Routes — a network of scenic byways locally known as Sóljuleiðir, after the national flower, the buttercup-yellow marsh marigold. These winding roads, all of which are A to B and never more than 15 miles long, are not about travelling quickly. They snake up into the dark contours of the mountains and down towards far-flung coastal villages, such as Gásadalur, revealing a slice of Europe few ever get to see. They pass soaring fords, narrow sounds and remote lighthouses bullied by the weather, inviting travellers to discover little-known parts of this volcanic archipelago. And, while road trips such as these can be a
test of patience, the constant presence of vibrant canary-yellow flower signs, set against the backdrop of evergreen landscapes, makes the task far easier. These signs form a part of the scenery, guiding the way beside sod-roofed houses, lonely petrol stations and roads that, at first, might seem to lead nowhere. Upon arriving in Gásadalur, I park my car in
the village and follow a trail to a vantage point overlooking the island’s star-turn: Múlafossur. Across a clifftop bluff, a muscular waterfall carves apart strata of rock, emptying abruptly into the ocean. Rainbows appear in the mist, the torrent snorts and seabirds circle through the spray.
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Sea stacks and snow Some of the Faroe Islands can only be reached by
ferry, and for the past decade, local-born Teitur Samuelsen has been heading up two milestone tunnel projects to bring his tiny nation closer together. These dimly-lit tunnels sink so far below the Atlantic, they make the journey feel like a slow dive into the earth’s hidden layers. “The Faroe Islands have long been defined by their rough sea crossings and deep fords,” says Teitur. “Now, harder-to-get-to communities don’t feel quite so isolated.” The next day, I leave the capital, Tórshavn, to
take the first of these tunnels. Folkloric pictures of shepherds and seals, fishermen and seabirds are projected in dazzling displays of neon on its walls, and I cross the world’s only underwater roundabout towards the northern fishing village of Gjógv on the island of Eysturoy. The weather has turned and I emerge in a
blizzard, seeking out a mountain road labelled Gjáarleið through my snow-battered windscreen. Many locals describe it as the country’s most spectacular, and when it appears through the heavy snowfall, it does so immediately and with serious impact — snaking up through the hills like a hairpin alpine crossing. I park in a lay-by overlooking Funningsførður,
one of the deepest fords in the islands, then shoulder a backpack for a short hike across Hvíthamar ridge. Above is a crumpled mountain wreathed with boulders while below, the high cliffs and sinuous inlet are a colourless lithograph. My steps are snow-muffled and I pull my woolly hat further down over my ears. Then suddenly the wind drops, the air clears and the viewpoint delivers a fairytale ending. The mountains take on a Tolkien-like quality. It would be a good place, I think, to be an ogre or mountain troll. In such landscapes, myths and legends feed the
imagination and, fittingly, the Faroes are home to an assortment of tales. One speaks of Risin and Kellingin, a giant and witch from Iceland who tried to steal the islands. It is said they crossed the ocean, climbed to the top of Mount Eiðiskollur and
They say the wind gets into your senses in the Faroe Islands, but it’s more than that. The feeling of solitude gets under your skin, too
Clockwise from top: The village of Gjógv is distinguished by its natural harbour; the church of Sandavágur is one of the oldest in the Faroe Islands; local fishermen’s houses are typically built from timber Previous pages: Múlafossur waterfall in Gásadalur is one of the Faroe Islands’ most famous natural wonders
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