Travel: It was during the 2015 solar eclipse when I first heard about the Faroe Islands. This natural spectacle could only be admired from two places on earth, one was Spitsbergen and the other the Faroe Islands.
My friend Philip of mine was there to photograph the eclipse, when he came back he was absolutely thrilled and really wanted to go back to this unknown spot of earth. Since I'm always looking for places that are still undiscovered by mountain biking, I was immediately interested. And as soon as he showed me the first pictures, it was clear to me, this is where we have to go, the green islands embedded in the dark North Atlantic were so breathtaking and rough.
But when I started researching, I found out that it's illegal to cycle off-road on the islands. Since the population on the islands is under 50.000 people and most of them work hard for wages on the high seas or as farmers, there are only a few who go migrating.
Their land is useful to the locals, but not particularly beautiful in their eyes. Therefore, there are only a few paths on which one is officially allowed to move. However, since the idea of exploring the islands on the bike has not let go of us, we decide without further ado to travel the islands with the Gravel Bikes and cycle from the westernmost point to the eastern point.
So we started looking for an itinerary on the internet. While we often rely on Google Earth to map out trails and paths on mountain bike trips, we use Google Sheep View for help here. No, I didn't make a typo, because under "Sheep View" you can imagine exactly what you're thinking now: a 360° camera on the back of a sheep, which explores the country and then uploads the images to the World Wide Web provides.
In 2017, Faroe Islands resident Durita Dahl Andreassen launched “The Sheep View” campaign to bring Google to the attention of the previously forgotten little archipelago in the North Atlantic. Lo and behold, the US company was enthusiastic, and since then you can use Google Street View to explore the Faroe Islands on the backs of sheep.
It's just under two hours that we need by plane from Copenhagen to the Faroe Islands. And while the small archipelago in the North Atlantic appears so calm and inconspicuous when viewed from the air, we notice at the latest when approaching for landing that appearances are deceptive. But even if we don't take the small strip of land in a fjord, which is supposed to be an airstrip, seriously, the Faroese pilot doesn't seem to care and skillfully sets us and our bikes apart.
So there we are – in the middle of the North Atlantic Ocean between Scotland and Iceland.
Of course we didn't expect to go cycling here with shorts, but the weather, which is there behind the other side of the airport doors, is also a bit different than expected. A violent storm is raging across the islands as we sit on the bus towards Klaksvìk, the starting point of our route.
We spend the evening attaching our bags to the bike so that they are as waterproof as possible, because the weather is forecast to be bad for the next few days, but we didn't come all the way here to then go to the accommodation to squat, so we grab our bikes and venture out into the wind.
On the first day, the route takes us in a large loop from Klaksvìk north to Vidareidi, the westernmost place on the islands, which can be reached by road. Again and again the wind whips our faces and causes raindrops to burst painfully on the skin like small water bombs. Luckily there is hardly anything going on on the streets in the west of the islands, because the wind keeps grabbing the wheel and throwing us from left to right and back again.
When we come out of a tunnel just before the village of Havannsund, we can hardly keep ourselves on our bikes, the wind is blowing against us so strongly that it is difficult for us to breathe.
Next to us, the water falls down one of the hundreds of waterfalls.
These are spread across the islands. However, the one in front of us does not reach the ground as usual, but is caught by the wind and yanked upwards with force, it almost seems as if the waterfall works upside down. After we have reached our goal for the day in the evening, we decide against spending the night in the tent and instead drying our soaked things in front of a warm heater.
The next few days are supposed to be just as strong in terms of wind, but with significantly less rain. So the next day we leave the westernmost of the three main islands and head for the largest island in the Faroe Islands, Eysturoy. To connect the islands, the Faroe Islands dug huge tunnels into the Atlantic, through which we are now rolling on our bikes. 8 km of darkness, a car passing here and there, illuminating the black walls for a few moments before the darkness envelopes us again. Again and again it drips from the ceiling and the knowledge that hundreds of tons of water are directly above our heads in the fjords makes you inevitably pedal harder.
When we leave the tunnel again after what feels like infinity, and inwardly brace ourselves again against what we left behind at the entrance of the tunnel, suddenly the exact opposite awaits us.
Blue skies, warming rays of sunshine on our skin and the feeling of suddenly returning spirits.
So even the long stretch of pushing along the cliffs of Elduvik doesn't bother us anymore, and when we reach our sleeping place, we can prepare our travel provisions in the dry before we retreat to our sleeping bags, completely exhausted.
flatsch. Grumbling, Max turns over and crawls deeper into his sleeping bag. flatsch. Now it hit me. And while I'm still half asleep wondering what exactly just slobbered my face, the completely soaked tarpaulin hits me again.
I've endured a lot of weather on my travels, but I've never been afraid for myself and my tent. Storm gusts whipped over us, rain no longer pelted but simply poured through the tent, and all this while Max turns over again with pleasure and just goes back to sleep. What will the next day look like for me? Exactly how you imagine a day in a headwind after a sleepless night.
The rescue?
Petrol stations on the side of the road, which we fall into, totally exhausted, to literally fill up the tanks. Rarely has a simple hot dog tasted better than here. On the last day we crawl out of our tent under the warm sun, the wind has died down and the clouds have cleared, so this is what the few summer days in the Faroe Islands look like. Although shaken by the weather, what we are experiencing today is more than a good reward for all the hardships of the past few days.
We roll with our bikes through green valleys, from whose steep slopes small rivulets flow into the sea, we see the famous puffins, which shoot through the air like small rockets, dive into the water and just as quickly flap away with a beak full of fish.
The Faroe Islands know how to present themselves. After the last tunnel of our journey we roll down with the bikes towards Gasadalur, where the probably most famous waterfall of the islands is located.
The village was all but cut off from civilization until 2005.
Only after the tunnel was completed was it possible to drive here by car. Previously, everything had to be brought down a arduous mountain path or by boat to the rugged and steep coast, and from there carried up an impossibly steep stairway. What kind of life was that?
A lot has changed since then, but not the hospitality of the residents. Since we didn't know where to stay on the last day of the trip, we asked a villager where it would be allowed to camp. He then invited us to set up our tent in his garden. As a matter of course he asks us if we want a coffee in the morning. These are the Faroe Islands, wind, weather and also unlimited hospitality.
