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  my Torshavn citybreak
I was halfway from the airport to the capital of Torshavn, flying by helicopter 'bus'.
The Faroes were living up to their billing as brilliant... but odd. The atmosphere on board the chopper was just like a country bus, complete with giggling schoolchildren and bored commuters. We landed on a tiny cone of an island, in a field next to a group of stone huts with grass roofs. This was the island of Koltur – a mile wide, 1,568ft high, with a population of two. A housewife emerged with her shopping bag and climbed on board. She was heading for the supermarket in Torshavn. Soon there was a good view of the capital as we rounded a rocky headland. Torshavn spreads around a busy harbour and wide bay facing another steep-sided island opposite. Most houses are wood, and painted red, white or black. Many have a traditional roof of living turf. My comfortable modern hotel was a former seamen’s mission on the harbourside that doesn’t serve alcohol. Thankfully I found several bars and restaurants that do. I even found some nightclubs. With shiny red leather pews and mirrored walls they reminded me of the early seventies – although I don’t recall British clubs of that era being full of businessmen hugging each other and singing traditional folk songs. But the town’s tourist office directed me to what they claim is the best nightlife on offer – a visit to the world’s largest storm petrel colony. What is it?
The boat leaves at 6pm throughout the summer for Nolsoy, an island to the east. There’s a few hours walking involved and you don’t come back until 7.20 the next morning. It’s popular among wildlife enthusiasts but I was embarrassed to admit I didn’t actually know what a storm petrel was. They turned out to be small white seabirds only seen late at night when they return to feed their youngsters in underground nests. This extraordinary colony has 600,000 birds. They’re hidden under rocks but the most striking sensation is the strange noise of all those birds whirring on their nests. Our small group of tourists and birdwatchers watched as our guide caught and ringed some birds, then we clambered back down to a small village, ate a huge dinner in the early hours and slept at the only guesthouse. I arrived back in Torshavn the next morning feeling like I’d had an amazing night out. Torshavn has more to do during the day than I expected too. The sophisticated art galleries and fascinating museums are particularly surprising – again they are heavily subsidised by the government. The exhibition on whaling at the Nordic House cultural centre was very moving. Faroes are one of the few countries left that continue to kill and eat whales. Be warned that whales have been occasionally been driven ashore in Torshavn Bay. It happens rarely but you can’t miss it – all the locals rush out to claim a chunk of their favourite delicacy and the butchering stains the sea red with blood. Read about it HERE. I stumbled onto this gruesome sight  Simon Heptinstall's Travels visits
Torshavn, capital of the Faroe Islands   during one of my visits. My honest report and graphic photographs caused quite a stir back home. The Daily Mail later ran a whole page of letters about my feature. I'm not taking sides in the debate. Is it a valuable local tradition? Is it any more cruel than our factory-farming of chickens? Should it be banned? It's not for me to pronounce... BUT while I was in the Faroes I did endure tasting whale steak at a trendy Torshavn restaurant.The dark red whale meat was like cod-liver-oil-flavoured chewing gum while the blubber was even worse, like trying to swallow a piece of an old fisherman’s wellington boot. The locals didn’t seem to mind that I found their national dish so disgusting. My Faroese dining companion simply leant over and scoffed what I’d left. Torshavn also has a quaint old quarter, including a cobbled maze of 300-year-old fisherman’s cottages and harbourside cafes, bars and shops. The most popular souvenirs seemed to be woollen hats, socks and stuffed puffins. There seem to be dozens of exciting trips from the capital. I took a boat tour past towering 1,000ft cliffs lined with puffins staring down at us. We casually threw a line over the side and hauled it back hooked with three large cod. Add in the chance to see midnight sun, passionate football matches halfway up mountains and frequent live music and, if you ignore the whales, I found you can have a whale of a time in Torshavn. Photos: Páll Steffansson and www.visitfaroeislands.com |
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