The plane is about to land and it’s incredibly beautiful, as we are passing cliffs and mist that fits so well to these majestic landscapes. The airport is tiny and consists of only one gate. From the unusual heat that we left in Copenhagen, people that were still wearing shorts are immediately regretting it. It is summer but that doesn’t mean it’s warm. Actually, it never really gets warm. It doesn’t get that freezing cold either, even in winter temperatures mostly seem to range between 3 – 13 degrees celcius.

I’ve heard a few interesting things about the Faroe Islands. Such as there are more sheep than inhabitants, but the exact number is not known as they are so spread and sometimes hard to reach.

We are picking up our car that will be our companion for the trip. “When you return it, just leave it here with the key in the glove department and the door open. That’s no problem here”, explains Jóan, our renter. The car has an unfoldable tent on top, which I have never seen before, but it’s extremely handy. We are cruising around the island, trying to find a camping place for the night. It’s almost 10pm but the sun is as high as it was in the afternoon. I’ve actually never seen it really dark here, even at 2.45 in the morning, it felt like dawn. So you could actually hike all day and night, if you had the energy.

No matter where we are driving, we could just stop anywhere to take pictures. Sun is rare but the permanent overcast gives it a mystical glow. Lord of the Rings could have been shot here, even their language, føroyskt mál, could pass as a dialect of Elvish. Wide open fields, almost no trees. Here and there sheep and their little lambs. Some geese, seagulls screaming. Every house has an incredible view, ocassinally situated on a hill viewing over the ocea. Some are covered in grass roofs and I cannot help it but smile as they blend in so well with the surroundings. One with the nature. We take a break and stand on a cliff next to the ocean, breathing in the crisp, chilly air. Slowing down from the daily routine that chased us the past days.

Not many people that are living here and not many tourists. Unspoiled. The locals are curious and like to engage in conversations with us. We stranded in a restaurant and ordered some fish and chips, and were the only ones. The owner, with rather broken English, did not really understand why we would come all the way to be here.

After the first night in the tent on top of the car, there is no better way to wake up and open the tent to see the ocean and a few sheep nearby in the morning.

We feel so close to nature, soaking in the sound of the waves and birds I’ve never heard before, breathing the salty, crisp air.

We are walking around, visiting villages and despite the stunning beauty that surrounds them, I cannot imagine living here. The Faroe Islands, little brother of Iceland, are so remote. So far from the mainland and big cities. Rather trist weather, so cold and wet all year long, with not even 50.000 inhabitants on the entire archipelago. Must be a great playground as a kid, but opportunities are limited when you are grown up. Not surprising that young people are leaving, and the average age here is rather high.

We get to the most remote village you can find here, and it consists of probably ten houses and a church. And a helicopter landing spot. Getting there was really a beautiful little adventure, flying in a helicopter and seeing the mountains, ocean and cliffs from above. It’s seen as a means of transport and subsidized by the government – probably the only place where you can fly in a helicopter as casually as taking the bus? And it only costs as much as a burger.

Such a mystical place with dramatical views wherever you go and houses blending into the nature. It is amazing to spend a few days here to escape reality and feel like in a movie – only too remote in the long run.