Streymoy and Eysturoy are the largest islands in the Faroes. Apart from the not-so-big-city delights of Tórshavn, the scenic roads lead to charming villages and unspoilt countryside where we discovered in wild weather why the Faroes are known as the Land of Maybe. 

The island of Streymoy, where one finds the capital Tórshavn, and Eysturoy to its east are the largest and second largest islands in the Faroes. They are joined by a bridge which the locals like to call ‘the bridge over the Atlantic’ (it is the only one joining two islands in the Faroes) or more recently by the Eysturoyartunnilin, a expensive (DDK 175 one way) undersea tunnel. 

We left Tórshavn on a Buttercup route which is how the Faroese distinguish their scenic roads. The Oyggiarvegur road leads up into the mountains with great views and a couple of good detours en route. 

Marked on my map as an ‘iconic’ road, the route to the Norðradalur valley drops down from the 270 m high pass of Norðradalsskarð. There are a few twists and turns but nothing I would have thought of as particularly dramatic on the driving front.

However, the valley is quite beautiful with high sided mountains and a superb view with the island of Koltur just offshore. At the junction near the bottom there is an old sheep fold made with giant boulders which is quite impressive.

We went up again and around to Mount Sornfelli which is reached by a 3.5 km twisty road amongst high mountains with prominent stone bands and rock strewn slopes which get progressively barer as one ascends.

The 725 m peak is marked by radar installations and the parking area stops just short of the top. Nevertheless, there were views in almost all directions, once the latest squall had passed over – at that height, it was actually a snow flurry for a while.

EIÐI

We crossed the bridge to Eysturoy and drove on to Eiði, a little village under the prominent mountain of Eiðuskollur (343 m). The British once had a WWll radar station on the top and there are still a few ruins from that time as well as more modern masts.

The hike to the top only takes an hour but rewards with magnificent views. The cliffs are impressively high (Simon experimented by dropping a stone over the edge: it took 10 seconds to reach the sea) but at certain angles one can get a great view of Risin og Kellingin or the Giant and the Witch: two seastacks which are well known icons of the islands. These trolls were trying to drag the Faroes to Iceland when they were caught out by the sunrise and turned to stone.

We decided to base ourselves at Eiði which has a unusual campground on an old football pitch, although tents can find grassy patches around the hut. It is nicely located between the shore and a small lake so we were lulled to sleep by the waves although we did wake up one night to see the northern lights overhead, albeit it not very colourful ones.

SAKSUN 

Next time I suggest going to a Nordic country, just beat me over the head and send me off on the West Highland Way – at least I am sure they occasionally have a good pub en route whereas the Faroes are pretty much closed.

As I emerged from our latest walk looking like a bog monster, I mused that neither could it be any more cold, wet or muddy.

The day had started on a promising note: our International Photographer map had marked Saksun as ‘one of the most beautiful places in the world’.

Of course any place described as such is bound to be a disappointment, especially on a rather grey, intermittently rainy day.

Things also weren’t helped by a chiliad of ‘No trespassing’, Keep off the grass’ and ‘No drone zone’ signs – although I am leaning towards agreeing on the latter: I think they will be the world’s next major annoyance, after selfies!

Apparently the local farmer is very anti tourism and has even threatened to shoot drones down in the past. He has also initiated a DDK 75 fee to access the walk to the beach at the head of the lagoon.

Anyway we weren’t paying it – perhaps the ‘most beautiful place in the world’ tag comes from the perfect photograph taken from the beach below the village as otherwise it wasn’t obvious.

That’s not to say that Saksun isn’t charming with it’s white wooden church with a turf roof – moved from Tjørnuvík in 1858. It sits on an isolated headland high above the lagoon with steep mountains to all sides. 

This is actually a fjord which silted up after a storm in the 1600’s, leaving a round lagoon which now fills up twice a day with the tides.

A little further up the hillside a cluster of old black farm buildings, with more cute turf roofs, now house a museum (only open in July and August).

There are a couple of rental houses and a few modern ones around the perimeter, scattered both sides of the gorge which effectively divides the village into two halves.

And that’s about it. We set off on the 6.4 km Saksun to Tjørnvík walk which was once the only route out for the villagers.

The trail initially rose beside a waterfall before traversing the hillside and winding gradually up to the top of a hill. Eventually we reached Tjørnuviksskarð, a pass from where we could finally look out towards the other side of the mountains.

These rose around us in rugged rocky splendour but the path was a total muddy swamp with the moorland squelchy underfoot. I thought how lucky we are in England with our well maintained paths and flagstones across the moors.

As we descended towards Tjørnvík, we could see the cape where we had walked the previous day and the two distinctive sea stacks of Risian og Kellingin from another angle.

Waterfalls fell and meandered beside me as I slithered down the muddy slopes. Tjørnvík sat in a compact huddle in a little bay with a black sand crescent beach. 

The houses were colourful with a few old turf roofed ones sheltered in the middle of the village – one even had fish drying under the eaves. A little cafe served coffee and waffles. Small vegetable plots flourished under the shelter of the sea wall. There was even a super cool surf shop – I actually much preferred this village to Saksun.

On our way home we stopped at Haldórsvík which has an unusual octagonal church, dating from 1856. On the hill above there is a very modern sailors memorial with a rotating chrome ball.

Just down the road is the Fossa waterfall, the highest in the Faroes at 140 m. Like many of the waterfalls in the Faroes, it is better after rain. Indeed one of the most striking and beautiful features of the islands are the mountain sides that suddenly run with waterfalls after the frequent downpours.

SLAETTARATINDUR & GJÖGV

It was another cloudy, grey morning which didn’t bode well. Nevertheless, we managed to get a quick walk in to Slaettaratindur, the tallest mountain in the Faroe Islands at 880 m.

Parking at Eiðisskarð, just 7 km from Eiði, made it only a 470 m ascent which was doable in a hour. After a steep initial climb the path levelled off although annoyingly when we got to the saddle just below the top, there was quite a lot of low cloud so our view was rather grey.

The summit is actually flat and on a good day one can see every island in the Faroes – some even claim to have seen the Vatnajökull glacier, 550 km away in Iceland! We were lucky to have a view over Eiðuskollur and the two sea stacks!

Ascending afterwards was interesting due to a howling wind which threatened to blow us off the mountain – we heaved a sigh of relief when we finally arrived back at the car. 

We decided to check out Gjógv, a pretty village to the north known for its cultural evenings of ballad singing and dancing.

It is possible to stay at the Gjáargarður Guesthouse; they also run the seasonal village campsite.

The weather deteriorated further into torrential rain. ‘Gjógv’ means ‘gorge’ and it is the 200 m gorge which is the village’s main attraction, although it was not the ideal weather for walking on unfenced cliffs. 

We peered cautiously into it from above, but it is also possible to descend into its depths on a steep stairway. A little funicular railway was once used to haul the boats up to the village – the only one to ever grace the islands.

By now we were as wet as any fisherman who had once plied these waters. We called it a day and headed back to Eiði, finding ourselves in sole possession of the campsite and kitchen. The weather was so atrocious that we slept in the ladies changing room where the underfloor heating was most welcome!

EIÐI to ELDUVÍK

The wind had died down a little on the following morning although it was still grey and drizzly.

From Eiði, we took the scenic route past Slaettaratindur, which had its head in the clouds even more so than on the previous day.

We chose the Gjógv road at the junction and shortly afterwards parked by a cattle grid to walk out to a viewpoint overlooking Funningur and the fjords to Kalsoy. It is only about a 15 minute walk and there is a fabulous view.

The road switch backed down to Funningur, a pretty village divided by a stream. There is a picturesque black wooden church on the edge of the bay and a house with some rather fetching sheep murals.

We continued down the fjord and up the other side to Elduvík which allows free camping for up to three nights at a little parking area right in front of the sea. 

Sadly the gorgeous location and picnic tables were rather wasted on us. Again we were experiencing heavy rain and winds. Simon suffered a sense of humour failure as we struggled to put the tent up in a brief  lull, partially shielding it behind the car. He was later heard to say that it had been a hard holiday as he retired to bed!

ELDUVÍK & OYNDARFJØÐUR 

 It was a wet and windy night in the car park at Elduvik but we awoke to a dry if cloudy day, which was sufficient cause to be grateful in those islands.

The church bell was calling a small congregation to heel as we explored the village. It was a pretty, compact little place with tidy houses.

A little way around the coast behind it, there is a large sea gorge which once served as a harbour. Apparently the crystal clear water is a popular diving spot.

Below the village there is a statue of a merman, a mythical creature found in the depths, then another small harbour. 

A path leads on around the coast and over a low pass to Oyndarfjørður, a beautiful walk of only about 4 km and 1½ hours.

The first couple of kilometres hugs the coastline, rather precariously in places, with superb views out to Kalsoy with the distinctive lighthouse silhouette at its tip, then swings up over a low pass with beautiful mountains. Finally, it drops gently down to Oyndarfjørður.

This is a particularly colourful little village with a nice green and white church; the graveyard has a lovely old tree – one tenders to notice trees in those islands when one sees so few of them.

We picnicked above the harbour and then checked out the local curiosity: two huge rocking boulders which sit at the edge of the water at the entrance to the village. There is a rope attached but Simons pulling had no effect – I think it must need a high tide to create the movement.

ADUVÍK 

We headed southwards to Aduvík, checking out the British WW2 coastal gun at Runavík, which once protected Tórshavn. It is quite impressive within its protective cement bunker. There are a few other remnants but they have largely been buried under new housing or colonised by the natives: one observation post is now a summer house with a rather fine view, another little building is a henhouse.

Nearby at Nes there is a smart wooden church with a slate roof after which the lake at Toftavatn is worth a quick 2 km circuit. Surrounded by rugged moorland scenery, it is very reminiscent of Scotland.

The campsite at Aduvík (DDK 150 per tent and cash only – it was actually the only place in the Faroes we ever used cash!) had a large kitchen and sitting room which was good as the weather descended into pouring rain again. The seaview was lost in the murk.

TÓRSHAVN

Some call the Faroes the Land of Maybe, and it certainly pays to be patient and flexible where the weather is concerned. Views vanish in the cloud, planned walks become impractical and ferries are delayed. 

We had left most of our Tórshavn explorations to the last but the weather was still determined to blow us off the Faroes, so much so that when we arrived at Tórshavn and checked in at the campsite (DDK 120 each) the woman told us it was going to get even worse and to sleep inside. 

Waves were breaking onto the site where it sat above the sea and we struggled to unload the car and flee to the kitchen in gales and rain. The token bushes were horizontal and we gratefully found a corner in the kitchen. Two Dutch cyclists had already claimed the sofas. 

The ferry from Iceland had delayed its departure from Seyðisfjørður for 9 hours so our departure from the Faroes the following night was pushed back 4 hours to midnight, giving us a final day in this pleasant capital where sheep can still be seen grazing on the perimeter.

We had yet to visit Kirkjubøur, site of the only substantial ruins on the islands. It took about 15 minutes in the car but the free city bus route also covers it or it is a pleasant 7 km walk from Tórshavn.

On a grassy headland below a mountain, there are the ruins of the Magnus Cathedral. Dating back to around 1300, it is presently under restoration. 

The adjacent Olavskirkjan or Saint Olav’s parish church dates back to the 13th Century although the present reincarnation is heavily rebuilt and restored. The abstract altar painting is definitely modern.

The famous 15th Century choir stalls are now in Tórshavn museum, although there are the remnants of a bishop’s crozier on display which were found in a mid 13th century burial, the wooden coffin lined with birch bark. 

Roykstovan, an 11th century log house, is interesting. Don’t miss the ram’s head above the old arched doorway to one side and the gaily painted end. The oldest inhabited house in the Faroes, it is partially open to visitors (DDK 50) and you can see the cosy living room and a couple of other rooms furnished in antique style.

The surrounding village is quite small although most houses are painted black and turf-roofed which adds to the atmosphere. It is possible to walk southwards under the cliffs to the abandoned fishing village of Úti í Bø. 

Kirkjubøur is also the birthplace of Jóannes Patursson (1866-1946), a local farmer and the leader of the 20th century independence movement in the Faroe Islands.

Whilst in the area, it is worth following the road northwards that leads to Syðradalur, some 10 km of elevated, stunning sea views with the islands of Koltur and Hestur prominent, Sandoy and Vágur to the edges. It is not necessary to drop down to the farm at the end of the road, just turn around where the gravel starts and enjoy the views in reverse! 

We enjoyed a final meander around Torshavn in the afternoon, starting with the harbours.

There is always something of interest to be found in a harbour. We discovered the Westward Ho, a Grimsby trawler from 1884, which was fishing until 1964. In WWll she transported fish from the Faroes to Britain. Fully restored in 2005, it was nice to see an intact example after discovering how many were lost in the seas off Iceland and the Faroes.

On the hills behind her, a hidden garden had a whalebone arch and harpoons on gate posts that supported unusual chain fencing. More giant bones were in the adjacent backyard – maybe it was once the office of a whaling concern.

Nearby there was a delightfully forested old cemetery, á Svínaryggi, where giant monoliths mark some of the graves and many have a nautical flavour.

We visited Tinganes, a headland of old houses and warehouses beside the harbour which is immediately obvious to anyone arriving by ship.

The name means parliament point and it is the historic location of the Faroese parliament, the Thing, a name which always amuses me. The Faroese General assembly was held there from Viking times until 1816. When reconvened in 1852 it was moved further north.

A central trading place in the Middle Ages, a lot of the warehouses were destroyed in a fire in 1673. Hastily rebuilt, today it is an enchanting area of narrow, twisty lanes and cute wooden houses with turf roofs, quite an anomaly in a modern city. 16th and 17th century carvings can still be seen on the rocks at the point.

Finally we ascended to the viewpoint at Hoyvíksvegur, easy to spot with its squat obelisk marking an 1874 royal occasion. Sheep graze in the surrounding park and Tórshavn was spread below us – there isn’t really a lot to it and bare mountains encircle it.

We walked back to town down Jóna Broncks gáta, passing a Mylnan supermarket – they have a superb bakery section with wonderful bread and pastries, but also on the same street is Breyðvirkið, another great bread and bakery shop with a tiny cafe.

The street ends at Skansin, where a dinky lighthouse stands within a fort which was used as a British Forces headquarters in WWll. The original fort was built in the 1630’s after Turkish pirates raided Hvalba on Suderoy, then remodelled in the 1780’s.

Four brass guns from the 17th and 18th centuries remain along with two of the old and sadly rusty British coastal guns. There are fine views over the town and sea, particularly to the little island of Nólsoy, reached by a 20 minute ferry ride.

The Paname Cafe on Húsabrúgv is a cosy coffee stop with a good bookshop. Just behind is the lovely Havnar Kirkja, a white cathedral from 1788 with a distinctive bell tower – before it chimes the hours it plays a lyrical carillon.

There is a tiny but lush garden next to it and it is worth checking out the charity shop opposite for Faroe jumpers – you might just get lucky! 

NOTES

Tórshavn hotel accommodation: We stayed in the beautifully located campsite (in nice weather!) but I have heard good things about the Hotel Føroyar which has great views above town and a buffet breakfast, whilst for a central location the Hotel Hafnia is hard to beat. The 62 N guesthouse also includes breakfast in a central location.