Klaksvik – “It doesn’t look that way, but we will be just fine!”, the photographer yells to the bewildered rental car man as our fully automatic Toyota Hybride is put in rear as we leave the airport with screeching tires. We are heading for Stremoy, the island where capital Tórshavn nestles in a bay overlooking the island of Nólsoy.

The Faroe Islands

We can be brief about them: You must go visit! If only for the abundance of toilets offered in even the tiniest hamlet. A deserted school? An uninhabited city hall? In the Faroe Islands they turn it in no time in a toilet overlooking a fjord full of frolicking whales. The heated seat and eternal gently rolling toilet paper are of course complementary

But beware of the ferries though. The islands are held together by ferries but lack departure times. Quite complicated since the islanders seem to have been sworn into secrecy about crossing schedules. Oh, and whether your name is spelled correctly and corresponds with the name in your passport is completely irrelevant. Everyone is welcome.

Denmark

Then again, you may leave the island whenever you like since nobody at the airport really checks you. And about them belonging to Denmark? It is all a misunderstanding really. Only the Danes themselves seem to think so. And this thingy about slaughtering whales … Best not to mention that, if you don’t want to be accused of partaking in gruesome tortures of industrial pigs and battery hens. But other than that you will be just fine!

We can also be quite extensive about our visit:

I struggle to find the route planner on my phone because it leaves a white spot, where at least 18 islands should emerge. “I only see outlines, no roads,” I grumble. It is very dark around us. Nowhere a lit road, let alone a house.  “Never mind, already got it,” says the photographer throwing her cellphone into my lap. “Stay on the road elf” says the GPS. The road elf? What the hell is a road elf?”

Heimablídni

We are on our way to the capital through an ingenious system of tunnels. The idea is to first join a heimablídni, not to be confused with a grindadrap, a whale slaughter. Although we start to fear that eating at an islanders home is exactly what it all boils down to. Frightened by our veggie status, all home cooks tell us they can’t receive us.

“Too big a challenge”, a sheep farmer explains. Having us at the dinner table without even as much as putting a tiny bit of sheep intestine or lambs buttocks in our mouth, is more than most can handle. “Sorry,” said another: “But we have only black pudding and whale meat on the menu.”

Kalsoy

So off we go to hotel Føroyar for a salad and a short night since we have to leave early to catch a ferry the next morning. We have to catch the only ferry of the day to Syðradalur to meet up with sheep farmer Jóhannus.

To give you an idea: we must go from Tórshavn on the isle of Stremoy by tunnel to Esturoy, then further by tunnel to the island Borðoy and there we take the ferry to the island Kalsoy. It’s as complicated as it sounds and it’s awfully dark when we leave.

Klaksvik

“About an hour” the Tourist Office had estimated the time we would need to arrive at the ferry. But the GPS that morning tells as something else: one and a half hours. Arrival 7:59 am. The boat leaves at 8:00 am. “That is a bit of a challenge”, I say while Nomad speeds up the Hybrid.

We have no precise address of the ferry other than the port of Klaksvik. Although I do not think it is as big as Rotterdam, I fear the worst. I decide to call the company. Amazing, but at 6.45 am they simply pick up the phone on the Faroe Islands.

The girl answering the phone is extremely friendly. “No, not a problem. I”ll explain you how to get here:

Once in Klaksvik you will get to a roundabout. Go straight.

Then follow the road for a while and then you go, let’s see, maybe right.

Or no, wait, go left on… let me see, the 2nd road because the first one is a blind alley blind. I think.

No, the street where the ferry is situated has no name. But come on to Stangavegur. At the height of the Magn you will see the boat. Magn? That’s a gas station. Yes I will tell the captain that you are on your way and ask him to join me for a coffee.” Roaring laughter.

The ferry operator

Somewhat reassured we get totally lost in Klaksvik and we decide to call the ferry operator again. It is one minute to eight. “Sorry,” I gasp. “We’re on our way. I can see the harbor, just a few more seconds to locate the boat.”