Waking up in the Faroes, the pitter patter of waterdrops on the outside of my tent revealed that today was a different day than yesterday.
Having a look at the weather forecast in the camp site's canteen, you immediately got the impression of how schizophrenic Faroese weather can be. Still though, it wasn't like the weather would change every 5 minutes like I'd been told on the ferry.
Unless you're talking about a different type of rain every 5 minutes...
A mild downpour with a tad bit of drizzle and thundery rainfall, seasoned with a bit of a shower. I was looking forward to it already!
There we several things to do today. Niels wanted to get another tent because the one he'd brought was too small and he didn't handle it that well sleeping like a fetus every night, and we would check out the nearby town of Kirkjubøur (pr. tsheertsheeba), which was famous for having this little bright white church at the end of a fjord.
My tent's size had also come in handy, for Dave to keep his spare tires out of the rain.
But first, time for Niels to find a bigger accommodation.
As you might imagine Tórshavn isn't that big, and is often dubbed the world's smallest capital with a population of around 30,000. The city centre only has one real store for sports equipment, but sadly it didn't sell any tents.
They did have an address for outdoor gear, somewhere in the industrial estate.
And after a mapcheck...
...we found it.
It was effectively a toystore for grown-ups, with various kinds of weaponry littering the shelves.
It thankfully also had a tenting department, and Niels quickly found himself a proper-sized replacement. I was amazed at how small it packed compared to the size of the thing, because if you look at the picture below...
...you see that the new tent (far left) is hardly any smaller than mine (the blue monstrosity centre frame), and yet it packed to a third of the size.
With my tent indicating it was at the end of its useful life (because well, it was leaking), it was obvious that this trip would be the last for my loyal home for the past 4 years. This trip was to become an almost poetic final hurrah, if you will.
On the way back to camp I'd also tried to find some of the dried mutton again, but once again my attempt was fruitless. Everywhere the answer was the same: 'We don't sell it now, but maybe they sell it in that particular store'.
Up next, time to check out the rest of the Faroes, starting with Kirkjubøur.
In the entirety of the Faroe Islands there are four sets of traffic lights. Three of them are in the same street in Tórshavn, and the other in the road leading up North. No surprise then that after our small drive both yesterday and today, we'd already seen all of them. Yesterday for example, I'd nearly gunned through a red light simply because I didn't expect traffic lights.
Now, it was time to head on South.
And almost immediately, we entered the fog.
The little route going down the fjord near Kirkjubøur was fun though. Even though the weather left a lot to be desired, they were great fun to ride. They reminded me of Scotland, in the way that you tend to enjoy them a little bit more than is probably safe.
It was here that Niels's Cagiva came over all Italian on him - one of the cylinders suddenly wasn't firing. Niels reckoned it was still okay to continue the small distance left to Kirkjubøur, but after that we would return to Tórshavn to see if it could be fixed.
Later at a gas station, it turned out to be a faulty spark plug connector, which Niels promptly fixed once we got back at the camp site.
Converging on Kirkjubøur, it was time for a photoshoot of shorts.
Ooh!
Aah!
~
And then it was time to go back...
(don't you like it that I talked about the town being famous for a church whilst not photographing said church. Yes, I thought so)
...and try to get some heat back. By this point I had also noticed that apart from just my tent and motorcycle coat, both my boots were now leaking, too...
...which led to me using the 'feet-in-plastic-bag' tactic.
The next morning, it was time to say goodbye to the Faroe Islands. And to be brutally honest, I was more than happy to do so. Everything was wet, it was cold and the boredom just seeped in a bit more often than I liked.
And the weather was going to be nice, whoo!
About time too, as the incessant rain of the day before had turned half of the camp site into a swamp of sorts, even submerging the entrance of Andy's tent to the far left.
The sun, as it was, was still a bit shy.
I was glad to see the Beast back in war mode again. It just made me feel like were going to do some actual traveling again - the prime reason I went on these trips, after all. I just don't handle it that well if I have to stay in the same spot for longer than a day.
Everywhere, you could tell we were not the only ones boarding the ferry to Iceland later today.
Together with Dave and Niels, I set out tofinally find that damn mutton, and get our bikes checked in at the terminal.
Eventually the search for the mutton led us to a huge department store near the centre of Tórshavn, and after walking through the store twice and being told again they didn't sell it at the moment, Niels found the only piece they had, semi-dried, and neatly hidden away in the back of the meat department.
Apart from the price (949 Danish Krones is around 130 Euros), ofcourse the shape of a leg like that is somewhat ergonomically flawed for traveling on a motorbike. It was tempting though to strap this to the handlebars and have it as an underway snack, but there's also the safety aspect I had to think about.
"So how did the accident happen, Mr Cathalina?"
-"Uh, I got hungry"
-"Uh, I got hungry"
Even the world of LEGO was not enough to comfort me from the apparent failure of my quest for ergonomically viable sheep jerky...
...let alone the only Burger King in the Faroe Islands.
Thankfully though, the sun had finally shown herself.
Time to get everything out in the sun so it can dry!
Any idea how many clothing items you can spot draped on top of the Beast?
Wait, let's find the Beast first.
I'm sure I left it somewhere in there.
Leaving the Faroes, I felt a strange joy take over. Now, as I reckoned, we would finally come to the (dried) meat of the trip... it was time for ICELAND!
But more on that tomorrow.
IS2015 Random - Day 9 & 10
Days of mutton, milk and mayhem!
Posted by The Dekatria Project on Monday, August 17, 2015
