The last place I visited before I left the Faroes was Nólsoy, a small island 20 minutes across the water from Tórshavn. Shortly after I arrived, a friendly local invited me in for a coffee – foolishly I spurned the offer as I wanted to walk to the south of the island before the next ferry left. I soon regretted that badly, as lashing rain left me utterly soaked within a few minutes, and I gave up on the walk and sheltered in the town instead.

From Suðuroy I headed back to Tórshavn, where I spent my last evening in the Faroes. It’s far from the most exciting of towns, but it’s nice enough, and its historical centre on the Tinganes peninsula is very picturesque.

Having seen a good bit of the northern islands, I headed down to the southernmost island of Suðuroy, where the weather is supposed to be nicer than up north. The weather was atrocious during my bus journey from Leirvík back to Tórshavn so I was hoping it would be true. In wild wind and rain I thought the ferry journey there might be a bit of a vomit run, but the M/F Smyril was a big ship and the run past Sandoy, Skúvoy and the wild islands of Lítla Dímun and Stóra Dímun was smooth and pleasant. I got off the ferry and onto a bus to Øravík. Øravík is a tiny settlement, but with great views over the wild north Atlantic, and a campsite and tiny hostel. I set up my tent in gale-force winds and driving rain, and then cooked dinner in the empty hostel building. I was the only tourist in Øravík by the look of things. From Øravík I got a bus to Famjín on the other side of the island, and walked back across the island over a high windy pass in the mountains. I asked the driver what time the bus was going back [...]

The Norwegians were going to get a boat from Hvannasund on the island of Viðoy, out past the island of Svinoy to the eastern-most island of Fugloy (Bird Island). I’d thought about doing that, and so I joined them for the trip. We drove from Klaksvík to Hvannasund, with a little look around some of the north-eastern islands on the way. It was an amazingly warm sunny day. At Hvannasund we got on the boat. The passengers looked to be about half locals and half travellers just out for the ride. For a mere 30 kronur, we could all spend a few hours chugging along through the islands, amongst some amazing north Atlantic scenery. The sun shone, the weather was calm and warm, and puffins dotted the waters. I watched the islands drift by. We stopped at Hattarvík, and I considered getting off and walking over the island to Kirkja, where the boat was going to call on its way back. But I wasn’t sure how long the walk would take, and getting stranded on Fugloy would be pretty inconvenient. So I stayed on the boat for the return journey. We stopped at Kirkja, and then at Svínoy. The incredible [...]

After I’d explored a bit of Eysturoy, I headed over to Borðoy and the Faroes’ second-largest town, Klaksvík. The journey involves getting the ferry from Leirvík to Klaksvík, which has been described as ‘one of the loveliest half-hour ferry rides anywhere’, and it was quite impressive. Sadly a tunnel is currently under construction which will probably lead to the demise of the route. In Klaksvík I camped at the free municipal site about a mile out of town. After I’d set up camp I walked into town to get some fuel for my stove. After I’d walked back out, I realised I didn’t have a lighter, so I walked back in again. After I’d walked four miles and was ravenously hungry, I found that the fuel pump on my stove had stopped working. Luckily, Doug from Alaska had just arrived at the campground and lent me his stove. It was my 27th birthday. After a misty day, 11pm saw the sun come out. It was surreal for it to be so bright, so late at night. Throughout my time in the Faroes, it never got dark, and I hardly slept. While I was in Klaksvík I met two friendly Norwegians [...]

I thought about staying another day to see if the weather improved, but with only a week to spare I decided to head on to other places. The campsite owner was driving to Eiði on the other side of the island to pick someone up, and offered me a lift. We had a good drive over the bleak highlands, stopping briefly to help two teenagers who had driven their car off the road, and then again to catch some fine views of Risin og Kellingin, two sea stacks which according to Norse legend were broken from the mainland by a troll who was attempting to drag the Faroes towards Iceland. In Eiði I had a couple of hours to kill before the bus to Tórshavn came. The sun came out and my travel thermometer said the temperature was almost 15C. It was too much for the locals – there were not many people about at all but I had a brief chat with one old gent who was mopping his brow and saying “So hot… so hot…” The bus eventually came, and after a twenty minute stop in Oyrabakki during which I bought an ice cream and sat in the [...]

As it turned out, I didn’t even get to the Faroes that evening. We flew to Aberdeen, where we had a scheduled stop to pick up passengers, but the stop turned out to be longer than planned. Apparently the weather in the Faroes was too bad to land, and we were waiting to see if it would improve. After about three hours, the crew decided it was worth a shot, and we flew north. The Faroes are only an hour’s flight from Aberdeen, and we were soon circling over them, but all I could see below was an ocean of cloud. We circled for an hour, waiting for a window in the weather so we could land, but eventually it became clear it was not to be, and we headed back south. So in the end, after a day of drama and chaos, unbelievably, I found myself spending the night in Aberdeen. Fortunately, the next day saw better weather, and I finally arrived in the Faroe Islands just before midday. I got a bus from the airport on Vágar island to Tórshavn, amazed to have actually made it, and stunned by the dramatic scenery, made gloomy and ominous by dirty [...]

7 July 2005 turned out to be a bad day to go to the Faroe Islands. My plan had been to go into work for the morning before heading to Stansted for my 3.30pm flight, but at ten to nine, as I was approaching Kings Cross on the Victoria Line, three bombs exploded on various parts of the tube, and London was thrown into chaos. I was no more than a few hundred metres from the bomb which exploded on a Piccadilly Line train near Kings Cross, though I didn’t know it. The first hint that something was wrong was the announcement that we wouldn’t be stopping at Kings Cross, because of a power failure there, and we headed straight through the now-empty station. We stopped as normal at Euston, but at the next stop, Warren Street, we didn’t move for a long time, and then it was announced that there were serious power failures in north London, and that the Victoria Line was being suspended. Carrying a substantial rucksack, I joined the exodus of stoic commuters and headed up to street level. I thought I would walk to Goodge Street and pick up the tube again there on a [...]