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.