What a glorious island!

Stunning sheer cliffs of basalt columns facing west and east with grassy slopes between, down to this and a few other navigable inlets. The town of Tvorory (emphasis on last syllable) has several rows of brightly coloured, well-maintained houses parallel to the shore, where there is a bustling fish industry.

Local people have been very friendly and are relaxed and self-assured like country people of old in the UK. Two brothers who run an excellent chandlery/hardware store (established by their grandfather) told us how they have a regular lunchtime siesta and most places except the supermarket close for lunch.

Having arranged for an assessment of repair necessary to the pushpit on the boat (the metal framework at the rear, as opposed to the pulpit at the front – an etymological discovery!) and having got supplies and washed ourselves and our clothes, in the afternoon we had an exhilarating walk over a col to the NW and down a vertiginous path between rocky bluffs to a small tarn. Our wobbly sea-legs coped fairly well but we both noticed how tired our limbs were after days of trying to keep upright in a pitching and rolling boat. Banks of mist were rolling here and there but between them the air was more clear and bright than anywhere I can remember – somewhat severe and stark, but breathtakingly beautiful.

A fish dish, with onions (‘how we always do it’) at the town hotel was delicious and after chatting to other yachtsmen (including a single handed Finn ex-airforce pilot and stepping aboard a sturdy 1941 Danish former royal yacht, the Torshavn) we are set for another solid night’s sleep, with drinking chocolate and Icelandic chocolate cake.

The Faeroes deserve much more attention from travellers.

S&T