No wind which is strange.
I drive to the neighboring island, Viðoy. In Viðareyði village a man walks his dog, the church door is locked. Some sun shines on the mountain. The mountain is Villingadalsfjall and it is possible to climb up there. Luckily the tourist information center told me to take 200 krona with me and put it in the box at the beginning of the trail. The farmer on whose land the trail is takes a fee for hiking. I have not seen this piece of information anywhere online. That’s why I specially visited an ATM this morning. 200 krona bill is pretty, some kind of insect on one side (Hepialus humuli). The box for money together with instructions and a picture of video camera hangs next to the gate.
The trail is marked with blue sticks. The ground is muddy. Muddy trail was visible from far. Mud ends soon and is replaced with scramble on rocks. Down in the village church bell starts to ring. So they have opened the church.
The mountain in 841 meters high, fourth highest on Faroe Islands. Going up feels like walking on an 800 meter high staircase. Up there’s frost on the ground unless it’s powdered sugar. View covers Fugloy, Svínoy, Viðoy itself of course, Borðoy, Kunoy, Kalsoy, Eysturoy and maybe even Streymoy’s mountain tops. It would probably be easier to list the islands that are not visible. On the other side is a steep drop into the ocean and cooing of birds. Seagulls are almost the only ones who have not left south or out to the ocean.
Right next is Enniberg, a 754 meters high cliff rising strait from the sea. It is recommended to go there with a guide but the price was such that an unemployed person could not afford it. I can look at it from here nicely, on the other side is the Faroese version of Hornbjarg. It is not easy to understand for whom all the warning are meant for, hikers or townsmen. One should not go anywhere alone. Perhaps this also goes for the pubs in the center of Tórshavn.
Pictures done I move a bit down where there’s no snow, a big rock for leaning against and a patch of vertical ground to sit on. A wonderful spot for picnic and tea. I let the sun shine on me and count the islands. Still no wind, purple mist approaches from the sea. Weird that there are no people although it is beautiful weather and Sunday.
Down in the village the sheep have moved. Faroese sheep don’t run away from people like in Iceland but towards people because they are used to getting bread. A disappointment this time, I support the position that feeding an animal is the business of the owner.
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