2019.7.7This was our last day in the Faroe Islands. The plan was to take a ferry to Mykines Island. When we first made our itinerary, I hadn’t paid much attention to the ferry schedule. Only when booking the tickets did I realize that this was the only day with any availability left. Had we waited any longer, we might not have been able to go at all.

The ferry departs from the town of Sørvágur on Vágar Island, which is very close to the airport. We had stopped there for some shopping on our first day in the Faroes.

As soon as we exited the fjord, we saw the arch-shaped Drangarnir islet and the triangular peak of Tindhólmur. Just days earlier, we had only seen them from afar across the fjord, but now, from the boat, we were up close – the ferry passed right between the two islands. After several days of cloudy skies, we were finally treated to a beautiful day of blue skies and scattered white clouds.

Mykines is the westernmost island of the Faroe Islands, and it takes about 50 minutes to reach it by ferry. The island is roughly triangular in shape, with its westernmost tip extending into a small islet about one kilometer long. Though technically separated from the main island, it’s connected by a narrow footbridge. Mykines is home to large colonies of seabirds, most famously puffins. Most visitors come specifically to cross the bridge to the western islet to see the birds. Unless staying overnight, there’s usually not enough time to explore the vast eastern side of the island.

Climbing up a small hill, we soon came across a modest memorial built along the ridge. It was erected in 1930 to honor the islanders who lost their lives at sea. As is common on the islands, there were plenty of free-roaming goats nearby. One of them kept repeatedly butting its head into the ground, perhaps a territorial behavior.

In the distance, we could already see the lighthouse at the far western tip of the islet. A group of hikers making their way along the trail toward it.

We began spotting puffins here and there. They have a stout build and are actually smaller than I had imagined. Their large, brightly colored beaks, disproportionate to their bodies, give them a slightly comical appearance, which is probably why they’re so beloved. The puffins here are Atlantic Puffins, found along the coasts and islands of Northern Europe and northeastern Canada. They belong to a different subspecies than those found in Alaska.

To cross the bridge, we had to descend from the ridge to the lower slopes. This is an area filled with puffin nests. Puffins are social birds that prefer to nest in colonies, building their burrows in the grassy cliffs near the sea. They fly out over the ocean to catch small fish and crustaceans. Before taking off, puffins are extremely cautious, often standing at the mouth of their burrows for a long time, scanning the surroundings. At the slightest disturbance, they retreat back inside.

On the hillside, the puffins tend to leave for feeding around the same time. Just as we were about to head down, a ranger stopped us on the trail, explaining that we needed to wait about 20 minutes to allow the local puffin colony to safely head out to sea.

This is the bridge that connects Mykines to the narrow islet at its western tip. The surrounding cliffs are home to large numbers of kittiwakes, a type of small gull that resembles pigeons at first glance. Many of them perch in pairs. Unlike puffins, which nest in burrows on grassy slopes, kittiwakes build their nests directly on the steep cliff faces, often on ledges barely wide enough to hold two birds.

After crossing the footbridge, we began climbing up the ridge again. Here, we started to see many Northern Gannets, which nest along the north-facing cliffs. Different bird species seem to occupy their own distinct territories, coexisting without much interference. Adult Northern Gannets have an impressive wingspan, up to 1.8 meters, and they rely mostly on gliding for flight. They are the largest seabirds in the North Atlantic.

Despite their large size, the nesting space on the cliffs is surprisingly limited, and many gannets crowd together in tight colonies. Taking off is relatively easy. They simply leap off the edge and glide into the air. Landing, however, is a different story. Gannets often come in at near full speed, flapping their wings furiously to slow down while thrusting both legs forward, aiming for a tiny patch of grass beside their nest. It’s not uncommon to see them misjudge the landing and end up face-planting into the dirt, an awkward, if slightly comical, scene.

Northern Gannets form monogamous pairs and remain faithful for life unless one partner dies. Each year, the pair raises their chicks together, which is why you can often capture many intimate photos of male and female birds close and caring for one another.

Looking back from here, you can see the entire western side of Mykines. To the north, steep, layered cliffs rise almost vertically. This is where most of the Northern Gannets nest. The southern side is comparatively gentler in slope, and it’s primarily on this side that the puffins are active.

I didn’t continue all the way to the lighthouse and instead turned back here. Passing through the puffin colony, We saw more of these charming birds. Puffins with their beaks full of small fish are an iconic sight, but sometimes they carry a blade of grass or a wildflower, almost as if bringing a gift to their beloved.

When we returned to the harbor, there was still over an hour before the ferry return. The town is small, only about twenty or so buildings, mostly likely catering to the few overnight visitors. According to 2018 statistics, the island had just 10 residents. Near the harbor, there’s a café where waiting passengers gather to rest. Although the ferry was 40 minutes late, everything went smoothly, and we had a safe trip back.

When we planned our trip, we didn’t really know the road conditions in the Faroe Islands. Worried that getting to the airport from Tórshavn the next day might be too far, we booked a night’s stay in Miðvágur. However, upon arrival, the accommodations there were nowhere near as comfortable as the apartment we had in Tórshavn. Since we still had that apartment reserved for another night, we decided to return to Tórshavn. Fortunately, we were able to retrieve the keys from the owner’s locker and spent our final night there.

In the evening, we had dinner at Áarstova, a traditional restaurant in the city center. Afterwards, we took a stroll along the harbor before ending the night with a relaxed drink at a pub called Mikkeller. From our experience, in such a remote place, it’s best to stick to European-style restaurants. Trying Asian cuisine often leads to disappointment. Of course, that was our experience back in 2019; with more tourists now, things may have improved since then.

The next day, we flew out of the Faroe Islands, heading back to Iceland. Shortly after takeoff, to our surprise, we spotted the Múlafossur waterfall plunging into the sea from the plane window, a perfect farewell to our brief journey at the edge of the world.

2019.7.6Today, we were headed to another famous landmark of the Faroe Islands: Trælanípa. The weather here is always shifting between sun and clouds. In the morning sunlight, the bay was a soothing blend of vibrant greens and soft yellow tones, a true feast for the eyes.

Trælanípa is located on the island of Vágar. To get there from Tórshavn, you have to pass through the Vágar Tunnel. When we visited the Faroe Islands in 2019, the 11-kilometer-long Eysturoy Tunnel had not yet opened. The longest subsea tunnel connecting the islands was the Norðoyatunnilin, which we had driven through a couple of days earlier. The Vágar Tunnel is the second longest, stretching nearly 5 kilometers. Compared to the narrow, single-lane mountain tunnels, these undersea tunnels feel like grand highway, with wide lanes and even colorful light displays on the ceilings.

We first stopped in the town of Sandavágur. The most striking building there is a red-roofed church built during World War I. Unfortunately, it was closed when we visited.

The walk to the end of Trælanípa is about 3 kilometers long, starting from one side of the town of Miðvágur. A small maintenance fee is required to access the trail. As this is a uniquely popular site, the growing number of visitors has prompted local residents to take measures to protect the surrounding environment. I later heard that they were discussing plans to periodically close the area to limit foot traffic – an effort to balance tourism with environmental preservation.

From the trailhead, you can see another striking landmark along Vágar’s coast: Trøllkonufingur, which translates to Troll’s Wife’s Finger. In Nordic folklore, a troll is a creature that dwells in remote places, far from human settlements. This sharp stone spire rises dramatically from the coastline and is hard to miss. As I stood there taking photos from a distance, a few goats wandered over, circling me curiously.

Walking along the hillside trail, I could already see the jagged cliffs near Trælanípa in the distance, with tiny silhouettes of visitors scattered across the top. The weather was overcast, and the sparse human presence added to the feeling of being at the edge of the world, remote, quiet, and hauntingly vast.

Getting closer to Trælanípa, I could finally see the full form of the cliff – sloping outward into the sea, then dropping straight down into the water. Turning back, the same cliff framed a narrow bay between its steep edges. In the distance, I could see Koltur and Hestur, two of the smaller outlying islands of the Faroes. And yet, this breathtaking scenery wasn’t even the main highlight of Trælanípa.

Climbing up the cliffs of Trælanípa, the southern half of Lake Sørvágsvatn came fully into view. The lake curves in an S-shape, but from this vantage point, only the southern portion is visible. Due to the upward-sloping terrain on the right and the sheer cliffs in the foreground, it creates the striking illusion that the lake is floating high above the ocean. In reality, the elevation difference between the lake and the sea isn’t nearly as dramatic as it appears. It’s the perspective that makes the scene so surreal.

This is a panoramic stitched photo taken from a very precarious spot, right at the edge of a cliff over a hundred meters high. Back then, I didn’t have a drone, so I had to lie flat on the ground and stretch my arm out just to capture the entire cliff face across from me. Trælanípa means “Slave Mountain,” and according to legend, this is where the Vikings would push old or infirm slaves off the cliff.

It was overcast when I first arrived, but by the time I reached the top of Trælanípa, the sky began to clear, revealing blue skies and drifting white clouds. From the western edge of the cliff, I could see the Bøsdalafossur waterfall, where Lake Sørvágsvatn flows into the sea. From this angle, it becomes clear that the lake is actually only about 30 meters above sea level. In the distance, another dramatic sea stack comes into view, Geituskoradrangur, which translates to “Goat’s Ear”. Cliffs and sea stacks like this are a common and striking feature of the Faroe Islands’ rugged coastline.

On the way back, light rain began to fall once again. The mountains of the Faroe Islands aren’t particularly high, but situated in the middle of the North Atlantic, the weather is unpredictable. Along the trail, I spotted a few scattered goats, draped in long shaggy coats, standing alone in the landscape.

My wife had been waiting for me at a restaurant in Sandavágur for two or three hours by the time I made it back. While Nordic restaurants are generally known for their creativity, this one, called Fiskastykkið, was particularly imaginative. The chandelier on the staircase was made from dried salmon skin. In earlier times, indigenous peoples across the Nordic regions would hang and air-dry salmon for preservation, and the design of the chandelier was inspired by that traditional practice. Another example was the creamy soup we ordered: the herbs on top were arranged to resemble underwater seaweed, both visually beautiful and delicious.

With plenty of time left in the afternoon, we decided to take a detour to Saksun on our way back to Tórshavn. Located on the northwestern tip of Streymoy Island and surrounded by steep mountains, Saksun is a remote and peaceful village. The small bay was once a natural deep-water harbor, but a powerful storm deposited sand and silt at its mouth, turning it into a lagoon. Now, boats can only reach the sea during high tide. At low tide, the sandy seabed is exposed, allowing visitors to walk all the way out to the mouth of the bay.

The white church in Saksun is the village’s most iconic landmark. It’s said to still be in use today, however, the traditional turf-roofed houses nearby didn’t show any obvious signs of habitation. Perched on land that juts out toward the open sea, the village feels truly remote. When we visited, wind and rain were sweeping through the valley, so we could only make a brief stop before moving on.

On the way back to the city, and just as expected, the sun came out again. The Faroe Islands, forever unpredictable, and always full of surprises!

2019.7.5We couldn’t find a good hotel in Klaksvík, so we booked a one-night stay at a guesthouse in Leirvík on the other side of the tunnel. The guesthouse was a privately run two-story house with several rooms, operated by the owner. (That was back in 2019, though, it may have since been renovated or acquired by a rental company.)

Klaksvík is a very small town, with only about three or four streets. By the roadside, there’s a site with remnants from the Viking era, dating back to around the 9th to 11th centuries when they first settled in the Faroe Islands. The town mostly consists of residential houses, with only a few shops, but there is a nice bowling alley. We sat down to watch people play, and although we had already eaten something earlier in the afternoon, we couldn’t resist ordering a few pieces of fried chicken for dinner.

Our ferry was scheduled to depart at 10 o’clock. Early the next morning, I got up to take a few sunrise photos near Leirvík. By the roadside near the fjord, there was a patch of wildflowers, their colors vibrant in the soft morning glow.

The owner of the guesthouse prepared nice The breakfast for us. When we mentioned the ferry to Kalsoy, the host didn’t seem concerned at all, “Arriving ten minutes early is more than enough,” she said.

Fortunately, to be on the safe side, we arrived at the Klaksvík ferry terminal 50 minutes early, only to find more than a dozen cars already lined up. The ferry wasn’t a large, multi-deck vessel; it looked more like a tugboat and could hold at most 20 cars. As departure time approached, the cars boarded one by one. In the end, we barely made it. Our car was the last one to squeeze on, brushing left and right as it inched aboard. The vehicles behind us had no choice but to wait for the next ferry, an hour later.

After leaving the narrow harbor of Klaksvík and crossing the fjord, we soon arrived at the port of Kalsoy Island. In the local language, Kalsoy means “man island,” while the neighboring island, Kunoy, means “woman island.”

Our destination was the village of Trøllanes at the northern tip of Kalsoy Island. From there, it’s about an hour’s hike to the Kallur Lighthouse. The drive from the port to the village takes around 30 minutes and includes a stretch through a single-lane tunnel. After parking in the village, we soon spotted the red gate mentioned in many travel guides to the left, not far from the road. That’s where the hiking trail begins.

We walked along a hillside path with a gentle incline. Looking to the right, we could see Kunoy Island and the northern tip of Viðoy Island, where we had hiked the day before. The sky grew increasingly overcast, with occasional light rain. All we could hear were the sounds of wind and waves. The timeless mountains, sea, and wind felt cold and solemn, as if time itself had come to a standstill.

The Faroe Islands were formed 50 to 60 million years ago, during a period of intense volcanic activity as they gradually separated from Greenland. Layers of basalt, created by cooled lava, and softer volcanic ash were deposited alternately, forming the island’s distinctive geological strata. During quieter volcanic periods, vegetation was able to grow, only to be buried and compacted by later eruptions, eventually forming coal deposits. This cycle repeated many times until the shifting tectonic plates slowly moved the Faroe Islands away from the volcanically active zone.

At the end of the trail stands the Kallur Lighthouse. The Faroe Islands actually have quite a few lighthouses, but Kallur is famous not only because it’s built atop a cliff, but also because, when viewed from the right side, the towering wedge-shaped mountain peaks behind it pierce the clouds – a breathtaking sight. The Faroe Islands are known for strong winds, especially atop these high cliffs. With light rain falling from the sky, the path leading to the small hill on the right was quite slippery, requiring us to crouch down and use both hands and feet to safely make our way across.

You can walk along the cliff to the other side of the lighthouse, where a narrow ridge juts out over the water with a sheer drop of several tens of meters. From here, looking past the lighthouse, you can see the northernmost tip of Eysturoy Island, with waterfalls plunging into the sea and rock pillars rising from the water’s surface.。

Kallur Lighthouse is one of the most iconic sights in the Faroe Islands. Standing atop the high ridge feels like standing at the edge of the world, surrounded by endless space in every direction. Past and future seem to vanish, and the moist sea breeze sweeps away the dust of the mundane world, leaving the spirit both full and somehow empty.。

We set off on the journey back. The rain had made the trail muddy and slippery, making every step a careful one, but we finally reached the starting point. On our way back, we had planned to stop by “the Seal Woman” statue, but somehow we couldn’t find it. We then waited for the ferry to return, as tonight we would be staying in Tórshavn.

Approaching Tórshavn, the sun finally broke through the clouds, casting warm light over the land. From this vantage point, we could take in the full panorama of the city.

After a short rest, we headed to the city center for dinner. Passing by a small square, we saw the outdoor steps packed with people watching a handball match on a big screen. One of the teams was from the Faroe Islands. Light rain fell intermittently, but the crowd was undeterred, cheering passionately for their team.

For dinner, we chose TARV, a spacious two-story restaurant by the harbor. I ordered a platter of local Faroese cured meats. It was decent, nothing too adventurous.

2019.7.4Heading north from Tórshavn, there are two roads that lead out of the city. In the morning, we took the one that goes over the mountains. The road was shrouded in fog, obscuring the mountains on both sides and creating a bleak, moody atmosphere. Interestingly, down in the valley it was merely overcast. It is another example of the Faroe Islands’ famously varied weather.

Streymoy and Eysturoy are the two largest and most populous islands in the Faroe Islands, separated by the Sundini Fjord. On the Streymoy side, near the middle of the fjord, lies the small and scenic village of Hósvík. After crossing the Streymin Bridge, we reached the town of Norðskála. The Streymin Bridge, located at the narrowest point of the Sundini Fjord, is 226 meters long and is the only bridge connecting two islands in the Faroe Islands. It is fondly known as the “Bridge across the Atlantic” and plays a significant role in the islands’ road network.

The bridge opened to traffic in 1973, followed by the opening of the Norðskála Tunnel in 1976, which cuts through the central mountain range of Eysturoy. In 1988, the Norðoya Tunnel opened, finally linking the northern islands with the central parts of the Faroe Islands.

We had lunch and took a short break in Klaksvík before continuing north. We soon entered the Árnafjarðar Tunnel, and just 50 meters beyond the exit was yet another tunnel. Between the two lies the village of Árnafjørður, in the central part of Borðoy Island.

Not far after emerging from the Borðoy tunnel, we reached Viðoy, the northernmost island in the Faroe Islands. Borðoy and Viðoy are connected by a causeway, with the small towns of Norðdepil and Hvannasund facing each other across the strait. Fishing and aquaculture are the primary livelihoods of local residents.

Our destination for the day was the village of Viðareiði, located at the northern tip of Viðoy and the northernmost settlement in the Faroe Islands. From here, if one climbs Villingardalsfjall mountain to the north of the village, the view is breathtaking. In the middle is Malinsfjall in Viðoy; to the left, you can see Fugloy and Svínoy islands; while to the right, the northern tips of Borðoy, Kunoy, and Kalsoy stand in sequence. Unfortunately, it was drizzling that day, and I wasn’t able to reach the summit of Villingardalsfjall.

There weren’t many visitors in Viðareiði, and the village itself felt quiet and empty. However, we did notice a few guesthouses under construction or renovation. The owner of one kindly invited us to rest in the lobby. Overall, tourism in the Faroe Islands is gradually increasing.

On our way back from Viðoy, we passed through the small town of Ánir, near Klaksvík, where a few sheep were wandering by the roadside. We stopped the car, and the sheep, completely unafraid of people, ran around us, want to be in the picture.

Klaksvík is the second-largest town in the Faroe Islands. Situated between two back-to-back fjords, it is an important port and fishing hub. Before entering the city, there is a roundabout with a sculpture shaped like a fish hook, perhaps symbolizing its fishing heritage.

We had lunch in Klaksvík at a restaurant called Fríða Kaffihús, which we really enjoyed, so we returned there on our way back. Their curried chicken salad was especially flavorful.

In the evening, we stayed in Leirvík, on the other side of the Norðoya Tunnel. Tomorrow, we plan to take a boat to Kunoy Island.

2019.7.3~4Tórshavn means “Thor’s harbor.” Thor is the hammer-wielding god from the movies, a nearly omnipotent figure in Norse mythology and a protector of humankind. His name appears frequently in various cultures and place names. Since the 9th century, when the Vikings first landed in the Faroe Islands, Tórshavn has been the islands’ main settlement. At that time, the Faroe Islands had only a few fishing villages and farms, with just a few hundred inhabitants. Tórshavn served as the main port for external trade. It wasn’t until the latter half of the 20th century that these villages gradually grew into towns.

To this day, the harbor still occupies a large portion of Tórshavn, while the city center remains small and retains the feel of a fishing village. Houses with grass-covered roofs, narrow winding alleys, and damp, gloomy weather – it’s as if the air could be wrung out like a wet towel.

The city’s oldest buildings have been converted into restaurants. Though they are connected back-to-back and belong to the same business, each has a unique style. Before the trip, a colleague recommended one called Ræst. Ræst refers to a traditional method of preserving meat by fermentation, not cooked or dried, but somewhere in between, essentially semi-rotted. Both fish and lamb can be prepared this way. Though uniquely Faroese, similar methods are used across the Nordic region, with Sweden’s Surströmming being the most famous example.

We stood outside Ræst for a while, sampling the smell coming from the restaurant. Ultimately, we found it a bit too challenging and opted for Barbara next door. This seafood restaurant, like the one we tried in Greenland, served very fresh ingredients, had beautiful presentation, and modest portions, definitely worth recommending.

After dinner, it was around 7 p.m., and we took a walk around town. Tórshavn has almost no large hotels, mostly small inns or private houses converted into guesthouses. We booked a stay with visitHOMES, which, while labeled as a homestay, is actually a set of apartments managed by a company. The rooms are rented individually and share common areas. We found the house not only very new but also mostly empty, aside from one night, we had the entire building to ourselves. It was just a five-minute walk from the city center, very comfortable and convenient.

The plan for the next day was to visit Viðoy, the northernmost island in the archipelago. In the morning, we had breakfast at Essabarr, located right across from the restaurant we dined at the night before. A light rain was falling. We saw a small group of people wearing brightly colored rain jackets – essential attire for traveling in the Faroe Islands due to the constantly changing weather. Breakfast at Essabarr was elegant, with especially delicious bread and crisp cereal.

2019.7.3The Faroe Islands? Where are they? Are they a country? Such questions are completely understandable—especially back in 2019, when we made our trip. At that time, the Faroe Islands were still relatively unknown, known mostly within photography circles. But as breathtaking landscape photos began circulating online, the islands gradually gained popularity. Though not a remote and inhospitable place, the Faroe Islands still lacked sufficient tourism infrastructure to handle the growing number of visitors. As a result, the local government and residents began considering various measures—such as periodically closing certain attractions—to limit tourist numbers.

We spent one night in Iceland, then took a flight to the Faroe Islands the next morning. The flight to Greenland had been on a small propeller plane, but the one to the Faroes was an Airbus 320—a mid-sized jet. Clearly, more people travel to the Faroe Islands than to Greenland. Before landing at Vágar Airport, the plane flew over Lake Sørvágsvatn. This was the view from the plane, and a few days later, I would be walking along that trail below all the way to the sea shore.

We rented a manual Nissan Murano at the airport. The car was reliable and ran smoothly throughout the trip. After returning to the U.S., I considered renting one again but found that it didn’t have great reviews—perhaps the models differ between Europe and the U.S.

We first stopped at the nearby town of Sørvágur to stock up on supplies. There’s a sandy beach by the fjord there, where you can see all the way to the open sea beyond. It didn’t yet reveal the awe-inspiring beauty we were about to encounter.

Before heading to the hotel, we decided to visit the Múlafossur Waterfall – the very waterfall that had first introduced me to the Faroe Islands. We drove west along the road on one side of the fjord. Not far along the way, we saw a few cottages with roofs covered in thick green grass – a characteristic look of the Faroe Islands. The clouds hung low, almost touching the sea, and it felt like these houses were meant to exist in just such gloomy, moody weather.

Looking across the fjord from there, you can see one of the Faroe Islands’ iconic sights: Drangarnir – a small island shaped like an archway. Next to it is a sea stack shaped like a club, and behind them rises the triangular, steep cliffs of Tindhólmur Island. Drangarnir is very close to Vágar Island. From the cliffs of Vágar, especially when the sunlight illuminates the arch from the left, you can’t help but marvel at nature’s magnificent craftsmanship.

In the photo below, Tindhólmur is off to the right and not visible; on the left is Vágar Island, where you can see some photographers perched on the cliff’s edge. The circular shapes on the water are salmon farms – one of the Faroe Islands’ main industries.

To get to Gásadalur, we had to go through the Gásadalur Tunnel, which cuts through the mountain. Once entering the tunnel I was getting nervous. It was a one-lane road with no traffic lights on either end to control alternating flow. What if a car came from the opposite direction? Luckily, not far into the tunnel I spotted a pull-out area on the left, large enough for two cars, clearly meant for yielding. These passing bays appear every hundred meters or so. We hadn’t researched this in advance, so whenever we saw an oncoming car, we pulled into the nearest bay. In fact, if the bays are on your right, you should yield, but if the oncoming vehicle is a large truck, smaller cars have to give way regardless.

Looking back after exiting the tunnel, we could see the mountain we had just passed through. The Gásadalur Tunnel was opened to pedestrians in 2003 and to vehicles in 2006. Before the tunnel was built, the village was accessible only by boat or via hiking narrow cliffside paths over the mountains. The tunnel made travel far more convenient. One-lane tunnels like this are now considered outdated. Newer ones often have two lanes or even four, connecting different parts of the islands by cutting through mountains and crossing under the sea.

Just a few dozen meters off the roadside, you can see the Múlafossur Waterfall. The stream that feeds it originates from the mountaintop behind and flows just a few kilometers before plunging over 60 meters straight into the Atlantic Ocean. The towering mountain backdrop and the quaint village at its foot add a dreamlike quality to this breathtaking scene.

A few more steps down a small path lead to a slightly restored stairway, which brings you to a platform closer to sea level. On stormy days, the waves crash dramatically, making for even more powerful photographs. But on this particular day, the wind was calm, and low-hanging clouds shrouded the mountain peaks, which refused to show themselves. Looking out to the left, we could see several small islands in the sea. One of them is Mykines, which we would visit on our last day.

Gásadalur is the small village nestled at the foot of the mountain. It likely has no more than a dozen or twenty houses, many with thick green grass covering their roofs. We didn’t see many people around, probably because the population is small. Located at the far edge of Vágar Island, the village is almost completely cut off from the world, nestled in a landscape that feels utterly otherworldly. Coming through the mountain tunnel, it felt as though we had stepped into a hidden utopia.