A weekend in The Faroe Islands 🇫🇴 🎞️
Craggy cliffs crumble into freezing fjords as puffins swoop and skim the water's surface, as seen through the lens of my Canon eos.
As I stare out of my hotel room window at Tórshavn below – the capital city with fewer hours of sunshine than any other in the world – the sky is a deep, heavy, pinky grey. It’s 11pm, and although the sun will only stretch out its arms from behind the clouds for a mere few minutes of this entire trip, the moody light just makes the beauty of these landscapes all the more dazzling.
I’m in The Faroe Islands, an awe-inspiring archipelago where craggy cliffs crumble into freezing fjords as proud-looking puffins swoop and skim the water’s surface. Furry-looking, grass-clad roofs seem to be mandatory here, which give it a real earthy, unspoilt appeal. Chestnut brown ponies with ice-white emo fringes nibble on electric green grass, raising all sorts of photosynthesis questions (the place gets barely any sunlight!).
Somehow, it all knits together in a synergy of mysticism and magic that makes even Iceland look industrial, and I’m yet to find a place on planet earth so spectacular, yet so unblemished by tourism. The respect and parameters that local travel companies operate in, coupled with the fact it’s a tad inconvenient to get to, mean that a trip here feels thoughtful, considered, and so, so special.
Where to stay
This turf-roofed hotel is perfectly positioned for touring round the Streymoy island, which is the one we visited – it’s the biggest and most populated island in The Faroes.
Above: a rare glimpse of sunlight that had to be captured, seen while walking along the echoing hallways of Føroyar. Below: the drive from our hotel to, well, anywhere we went really, was a magical part of the experience in itself. You really get a feel for the vastness and drama of the landscapes while you’re driving along these quiet roads.
What to do
Take a boat tour to Drangarnir sea stacks
As you can see from the volume of photos, this boat tour was the most other-worldly experience of the entire trip. The sea stacks above are called Drangarnir and they sit between Vágar and the islet of Tindhólmur, on which there are only two houses which can only be reached by boat. That’s my kind of remote working spot. The film Peter Pan and Wendy was filmed here, chosen for its unique, distinctive natural beauty. I must agree that if Neverland does exist, this is the place.
For somewhere so grey in sky, every building is colourful but in the most considered, calming way. It’s cheering without looking garish, and that’s true everywhere you look.
Steinprent lithography workshop, Tórshavn
Tórshavn literally translated means ‘Thor’s harbour’, so there are boats everywhere you look, and the lithography workshop here boasts perfectly framed views of the bay. No wonder the fresh ink on paper that we peer at as we wander round is drying into delightful, breathtaking work. It’s hard not to feel inspired and moved to make things in this artisanal area. With a gallery downstairs and the craftsmen above making their magic, you feel really close to the process, so it’s impossible not to pick up a print for yourself. Not a bad place to part with your pennies, all things considered.
I got too excited here to take pictures, but these two female designers use Faroese wool to knit and stitch together the most unique, lovingly made jumpers, skirts and dresses. My trip here was well before the whole ‘fair isle’ winter we just had – where you could barely move in London for M&S sweaters sporting the pattern – and in a state of delirium I managed to leave my one-of-a-kind Faroese wool knit from here on the plane on my way home. I still find it painful to think about, and I hope whoever ended up with it appreciates that it’s hand made in The Faroe Islands and very sentimentally (and literally!) valuable. The group I went on this trip with still lament with me the heartbreak that is that lost jumper, and I now keep everything under my seat on flights in silent protest of the soured relationship I have with the overhead locker. Hopefully that gives you a flavour of just how special these pieces are. Don’t let yours out of your sight.
Where to eat
I did not expect the food to be one of the first things I mentioned when people asked me about this trip, but everywhere we ate a giant bucket of crab legs was plonked down in front of us with an equally giant metal cracker, and off we went. The sound of crab legs crunching before we scooped out the time-pausingly delicious meat inside will forever ignite a pavlov’s dog response for me – the crunch is the bell and I, well I am the big, stupid, salivating dog. The best of these bucket/crab/cracker/saliva situations, I have to say, was at ROKS in Tórshavn. It’s one of the most distinctive restaurants I’ve ever been to, littered with seemingly hand-drawn menus (in crayon) with scribbly font, nautical views of the harbour interacting with deep blue painted walls and framed drawings in this signature squiggly style lining each room. The ancient, turf-roofed building itself is remarkable in its own right, and it’s earned a place in the Michelin guide and has a two-Michelin-starred sister restaurant. Order the local sea urchins, mussels and langoustines. Oh, and did I mention the crab legs?
Café in Gásadalur
What to read
Drive Your Plow Over The Bones of The Dead, Olga Tokarczuk
If it’s not already obvious, these reading recommendation slots are rarely reserved for books set in the trip’s destination. I am not (yet) that perfect, but give me time. I’d also like to apologise to the reams of Faroese poets and writers I’ve discovered since my visit – honourable mention of The Land of Maybe by Tim Elcott – as I should have known that somewhere so mystical might have galvanised a big juicy group of creative minds to put words to paper. Next time. And there will most definitely be a next time.
For now, when it comes to setting the scene, wrapping you up in the feel of this faraway place, I can’t think of a story I’ve read that captures the refreshing slowness (but contradictory chaos beneath the surface) of The Faroes more than Drive Your Plow. Dubbed as ‘magic realism’, the narrative follows a woman – who lives alone with her dogs – solving an unconventional murder, if there is such a thing. It’s so witty and wry, pulling you into the mind of this deliciously eccentric woman seamlessly, and sitting you down at the kitchen table of her cosy cottage while the fire burns and the dark expanse of rolling grassland whistles outside in the wind. Olga’s writing is like atmospheric music to soundtrack your time in The Faroe Islands, and much like a song, it underscores and elevates the whole experience of being somewhere so quiet and breathtaking, helping you to draw things out you might not before have noticed.
Thanks for getting this far. If you have any questions or suggestions, please drop a comment below. Farewell, or – as they say in Faroese – Farvæl.
absolutely amazing <3
GORGEOUS!