The snow line has lowered overnight.
Time to start thinking about going home.
But first I go west. On Streymoy there’s a trail that’s called “Fyri vestan” for which I found three different GPS tracks online. Saved them all. Should be first row views from the trail. And what views.
The trail starts somewhere in Skeiðsskarð and it goes from there to Norðradalur. I leave the car in a bigger passing spot next to a small road where the sign in the beginning says that this is a narrow mountain road and everyone should drive carefully. I would not like to drive on it for long anyway. In addition of being narrow it is also covered in snow. It leads up to Sornfell where big white bulbs mark NATO radars.
The trail first goes along an old village road and then climbs up the mountain as a walking path. 676 meters high Skælingur looks at me as an introduction and later stares me in the back. A thin layer of snow covers everything but lets the colors shimmer through. Rays of sun fall here and there. A hare has been here. Although the day is windy it is almost wind-still between the mountains. And quiet. Only the sea hums somewhere and sheep sing.
Over the edge of the mountains a view opens towards Vágar island and a bunch of snow-clad peaks on Streymoy. Attached to Vágar is the finger of a troll-woman. Again someone who wanted to haul the islands away but fell into water so that her hand still grabs Vágar. The island Koltur is supposed to be the back of her head. Eleven people have climbed the finger and some have died trying.
A row of decent cairns lead me to next pass. On the other side is once again a new world. This time with two sheep. The view includes Hestur, Koltur, Sandoy and even the southernmost island Suðuroy is faintly visible. The sheep have been busy making paths but none of them matches the lines on the screen. In a situation where sun shines into my eyes is it not easy to separate cairns from rocks that just stand upright. These are trolls and they troll hikers. I’m not bothered much by such a tiny detail like a lost path. Just have to figure out from where it is best to pass all the streams and lakes in the bottom of the valley without swimming.
Over the next edge is a house and house means road. After a descent a mud trail leads to the road. On the road is a locked gate with a sign. The sign can be read after climbing over the fence. It only says that fishing without a permit is not allowed. Four horses approach me. This is Norðradalur and from here a walk on the road is the quickest way to get back to the car. The sun understands that memory card is getting full again and disappears in clouds. The narrow mountain road is now covered with black ice. This 7 kilometer hiking trail for some reason lasted for 19 kilometers.