Seven days of fog in the Faroe Islands
The weather forecast said "fog" every day. It was right every day, and it was still one of the best weeks of the year.
There are eighteen islands in the Faroes and I saw perhaps four of them properly. The rest were suggestions: a green shoulder rising out of white, a lighthouse that appeared for ten seconds and went back into hiding, sheep standing on slopes that should not hold sheep.
Walking in the white
Fog changes how you hike. You stop looking at the view and start looking at the path: the cairns, the wet grass, the line where the cliff simply ends. Every walk here has a moment where the ground in front of you becomes sky.
- Check the local trail notes before you go; some routes cross private land and ask for a small fee.
- Carry a real map. The fog does not care about your phone signal.
- Turn back early. The cliffs are unfenced and very, very tall.
Small towns, long evenings
The villages are tiny and turf-roofed, with churches painted black and window frames painted every other colour. In August the light lasts until almost midnight, so dinner happens late and slowly, usually with a view of a harbour that may or may not be visible.
On the last morning the fog lifted for an hour. I didn't take a single photograph. I just sat on the harbour wall and looked.