A First-Timer’s Journey To The Faroe Islands

Weird, windy and wonderful — the Faroes are perfect for exploring without a plan

No matter how hard you try not to compare a country you’re visiting to what you already know, it’s inevitable that comparisons creep up. When I spontaneously ended up in the Faroe Islands one weekend in October, Iceland was my unavoidable reference point.

So, how do the Faroes measure up to Iceland? Let me break it down:

Landscape: Greener than Iceland.

Views: At times more epic, similar to Iceland’s East Fjords.

Weather: Notably warmer. Case in point: you can have a beer outside at midnight in October.

Infrastructure: Impressive tunnel roundabouts connecting to different islands. Free buses in Tórshavn for both locals and visitors. Good roads even high in the mountains. Accessible helicopter travel.

Food: Limited plant-based main courses, but restaurants are generally accommodating.

Pools: No geothermal water (Iceland wins here).

“It felt simultaneously like we had just left Tórshavn and like we had been riding through these hills and clouds forever.”

Bónus: A surprisingly better selection than their Icelandic counterparts. Why is there a Bónus in the Faroes? And how can a Bónus in a place like Klaksvík have the latest Lego sets, while my local Bónus on Laugavegur struggles to stock fresh (if any) vegetables?

There’s way more to the Faroe Islands than my initial, mostly ignorant impressions. On the plus side, the country is so small that, even as someone who came primarily for a music festival, I managed to set foot on a few of its islands in just under three days. Here’s how I did it.

Everything is just around the corner

With a population of about 14,000, Tórshavn is one of the smallest capitals in the world. Everything is remarkably compact: the Skrapt festival’s venue was conveniently located across the street from Hotel Tórshavn, where the Grapevine’s photographer and I stayed. Good coffee was quickly sourced from Brell Café and Roastery, just a three-minute walk from the hotel, and freshly baked local goods could be found at Breyðvirkið, a bakery just nine minutes away. The legendary bar and music venue Sirkus, along with the picturesque harbour and old town, was only a five-minute walk from our temporary home base.

The weather was mostly gloomy and rainy during our time in the Faroes, but one morning, as the sky cleared and the sun peeked through fast-moving clouds, I took a stroll through the old town neighbourhood of Reyn. The wooden houses appeared smaller than average, as if they were intentionally shrunk to fit the scale of this miniature capital. Their grass roofs rippled in the wind, reminding me of horses’ manes. These 14th-century houses are not abandoned — people still live in them — with most black-tarred homes adorned with brightly painted letterboxes and potted plants. I imagine this area buzzes with tourists during the summer and I’m not envious of the locals, many of whom have put up signs requesting privacy.

At the end of the Reyn neighbourhood stands Tinganes, one of the oldest parliaments in the world — possibly older than Iceland’s own Alþingi.

But what would a trip to the Faroe Islands be without exploring its natural wonders? Given the spontaneous nature of this trip, I had very little time to research what to do and see on this far-flung archipelago. While packing for the flight, I revisited a YouTube video about the islands that I had watched a few years earlier. One place from that video stuck in my mind — the village of Gjógv, described by the narrator as “the introvert’s paradise.” Fortunately, Gjógv, like most things in the Faroes, was just an hour away from the capital. Off we went!

Up and down we go

The village was something else. To get there, we drove up and down winding roads, with visibility so poor at times that we hoped we weren’t getting too close to the unfenced edge or about to bump into one of the countless sheep roaming free. The road was a single lane, but the occasional car would speed toward us — a local, no doubt. It felt simultaneously like we had just left Tórshavn and like we had been driving through these hills and clouds forever.

After one final turn, we were looking down on the village of Gjógv. Taken straight out of a still-life painting, it feels almost surreal that people actually live in a place like this. From the stunning beauty of the landscape to harsh, don’t-even-want-to-think-about winter conditions, Gjógv — which translates to “gorge” — sits nestled in one, with a view towards the sea and the mountains.

“How can a Bónus in a place like Klaksvík have the latest Lego sets, while my closest Bónus on Laugavegur struggles to stock fresh (if any) vegetables?”

Suddenly, the traffic slowed and a fabulous goose appeared in front of our car. Plodding across the street at the speed of a turtle, as if to say, “This is where I live. No rush here.”

Descending into Gjógv offered a completely different perspective. Just a few minutes ago, we had been looking down at the rows of colourful houses, and then we were driving the length of unbelievably short streets among them.

“What is she doing?” my companion asked, pointing towards a woman who, despite the weather, was standing in her yard wearing just a t-shirt, hose in hand. She was cleaning a sheep’s head.

It’s moments like these when Faroese reality strikes — with the closest grocery store kilometres away, this tiny village of just 23 residents (according to 2023 municipal data) had to toughen up, with many residents relying on fishing and farming. Gjógv’s harbour lies down the cliff, so boats must use a ramp to be hoisted up and down. I imagine this town might be completely inaccessible in winter, with the local helipad used for emergencies.

Many hiking trails start from Gjógv, but with the thick October mist and Google reviews warning, “if it’s a bit foggy and you don’t know the trail, don’t do it,” I decided to save hiking for a summertime return.

A cosy museum moment

The downside of visiting the Faroe Islands during the off-season is a very limited window of daylight. My approach was to maximise the few hours of light available, venturing out on road trips without a particular destination in mind and getting back indoors to acclimate before the festival kicked off each evening. The Listasavn Føroya, or The National Gallery of the Faroe Islands, checked all the boxes for what I was looking for.

“The wooden houses appeared smaller than average, as if they were intentionally shrunk to fit the scale of this miniature capital.”

The museum’s collection features works — paintings, sculptures, textiles and more — by Faroese artists from the 1830s to the present. I loved how the rooms were thematically divided into sections such as “rocks and stones,” “animals,” “landscape” and “the ocean,” the latter combining all my favourite colours, with standalone blues and deep greens.

Jóannis Kristiansen’s snowy, hazy landscapes of Leirvík, a harbour town on the east coast of the Faroes’ second-largest island, Eysturoy, caught my attention. The impressionist, who hailed from Leirvík, skillfully captured the blue hour. Although there was no snow outside at present, these works immediately transported me to the Faroese winter.

Undoubtedly, one of the museum’s signature pieces is Whale War — a life-size sculpture of a pilot whale made of 32,000 toy soldiers. The piece by Edward Fuglø combines mixed media, and if you lean in, you can hear voices of different people — both internationally renowned environmentalists and Faroese locals supporting their long-standing tradition of grindadráp, or whale hunting.

The museum also houses the largest collection of Sámal Joensen-Mikines paintings, one of them, Home from Funeral — depicting a group of eight men who have just returned home from a funeral — made a lasting impression on me. Both the men and the background are rendered in dark tones, yet it’s an incredibly powerful depiction of life in the Faroes, conveying both sadness and the resilience of the people to carry on.

To be continued

Galloping through a country for barely 72 hours while also attending a music festival makes forming a comprehensive impression difficult. Yet, this brief sojourn gave me an enticing first taste of the Faroes — its epic cliffside settlements, the green that was simply greener than any other I’ve seen before and a people who seem to look at the world with a rare positivity.

The Faroes proved that you don’t always need a plan; you can experience a lot just by driving until the road ends. With barely any tourists and few people about, the whole country truly felt like an introvert’s paradise.

Trip provided by Skrapt Festival via Visit Faroe Islands. Visit visitfaroeislands.com for expert tips and inspiration on exploring the Faroe Islands.