Day 7 in the Faroes
07/02: Unpronounceable heights
We did our second big island-rounding trip today, heading northeast to Eysturoy. Our first stop was Gjógv, a tiny village that’s on every Faroes itinerary. It’s lovely, but it’s not any more spectacular than many of the other towns here. It’s also pretty far from everything else, along a somewhat stressful single-lane road (part of it is closed in the winter). I’m not sure I get the fascination, although it was cool to see the church, consecrated 1929 that was the first on the islands to host services in Faroese rather than Danish.
Next time I’m in this area, I think I’ll focus on Eiði, which has a local history museum in an old farmhouse and a football field right in the middle of the town by the church—most Faroese—as well as several beautiful hikes and puffin-viewing spots nearby. Gjógv felt like it knew it was famous; theirs was the only public toilet we had to pay for (and then the doors didn’t even open).
The skies had been gloriously sunny until the start of our hike up Slætteratindur, or “smooth top”, the tallest mountain on the Faroes. It’s a somewhat uninspiring hike that’s almost straight up for the most part, although it does give you lovely and changing views behind you as you go, with fjords, lakes and mountain passes coming in and out of view.
As we climbed, the weather got worse and worse. By the time we reached the rocky ridge that we thought was the top but wasn’t, we were shrouded in fog and being rained on. Fingers fumbling and pack covers threatening to blow away into the clouds, we unwrapped our cheese and jam sandwiches and enjoyed our lunch in that thrilling way you do on mountaintops.
We decided to skip the slightly treacherous-sounding scramble to the very top and head back down the mountain. I was having a great time until we were all spooked by a non-insignificant rock that came hurtling down the mountain right across our path. It had probably been dislodged by one of the dozen or so climbers above us, rather than a landslide, but that wasn’t much consolation. We got back down as fast as we could, arriving at the car as the sun reemerged.
Our next stop was the only drop-in sauna I’d been able to find on the Faroe Islands, about half an hour south along one of Eysturoy’s two big fjords in Runavik. A sauna culture is one of those Nordic things, like a plethora of fancy bakeries or a hut-to-hut hiking system, that you might erroneously assume the Faroes would have. On second thought, it makes sense that they don’t, given a historic (and continued) absence of trees and hence firewood, and a tourism industry that’s hardly more than a decade old.
Runavik was a happening place by Faroese standards, with a high street of sorts and lots of big boats in the harbor (including a very James Bond-esque all-grey fishing patrol ship). After a welcome hour in the Saunadypp, enjoying a postcard view of the harbor and the mountains across the water, we did some window shopping and trying on of knitted sweaters at the local heimavirki. (Sorry, Runavik, t’s not as good as Kvívík’s.)
We also went into the Blue Cross charity shop across the street, which was pretty big and very busy. I wonder if second-hand clothes are particularly popular here because they’re one of the few cheaper options, and just ordering something from Amazon isn’t going to work. I could also imagine the culture of reuse is stronger in a place where a significant portion of the population knows how to darn. In any case, it was fun to look through the children’s section in particular, which was sizable and had a great knitwear section (thanks, Omma).
We also went to the local Rúsdrekkasøla. I haven’t said much about the Faroese alcohol monopoly in this travel diary; it’s just like the Swedish one except worse. Let’s just say there are a lot of bottom-shelf wines on the middle shelf here (the actual bottom shelf was things like Blue Nun, which I haven’t seen in years). It’s best to stock up at Copenhagen’s duty-free before leaving. Really, do.
I believe there was only one cider available; I gave it a miss after seeing its completely clear color on Untappd. We managed to get passable wine for under €15 a bottle, but only with some research. Better value were the beers from one of the Faroes’ two breweries, the more trad Föroya Bjór or the craft-y OY. The best part about Rúsdrekkasøla—“intoxication drink sale”—is how much each of the 6 outlets looks like a dentist’s office from the outside, and how they completely black out every window come 4pm-ish. Nothing exciting in here!
