July 9: Farewell Fair Faroe
When I’m on the road there are some days where I’m interested in making miles and other days where I am in the mood to meander. Today I savored my last hours in the Faroe Islands, walking to this area’s most famous waterfall, digging my toes in the wet black sand of a small beach, following the paths of colorful puffin birds as they swooped and dove with seagulls above the cliffs, listening to sheep baaing in the meadows, and eating a delicious local smoked salmon salad at a small café.
I took my time packing and loading my gear this morning, adjusting my bags to consider the warmer weather – storing the electric jacket and gloves for later, switching out my thick, knee-high wool socks for shorter ones, removing the waterproof liners on my jacket and pants, and experimenting with opening my air vents. I must have begun to acclimate to colder temperatures because today’s high of 61 degrees felt like a balmy 80.
Today’s destination was the small town of Gasadalur, a small village on Vagar Island and home to the Mulafossur waterfall. This breathtaking natural wonder cascades off the cliffs below the small hamlet and into the deep waters of the ocean below. During particularly windy days the waterfall can be seen rising upwards.
With the sun out in full force and my hours on the Faroe Islands rapidly dwindling, I had a heightened awareness of my surroundings as I rode west and then north. I stopped to admire the beauty of the rustic wood huts with thatched grass roofs lining the shores of the ocean and pulled over to take pictures of the narrow mountain roads traversing back and forth upwards before disappearing into a variety of tunnels.
Arriving at Gasadalur, I walked the short distance to the breathtaking view of Mulafossur, admiring the bubbling brooks under ancient stone bridges along the way, stopping to chat with other friendly tourists, and spending my time appreciating the beauty of the falls as they plummeted to the dark blue of the ocean below. Sheep baaed in the nearby meadow and puffins with their colorful orange beaks soared above.
On my way back to the island of Streymoy, I stopped at a small, paved pull-out I had noticed earlier, located at the top of some stone steps down to a small black sand beach. I climbed down to the ocean, took off my motorcycle pants, rolled up the legs of my jeans, spent some time wading in the water, and dug my feet into the warm sand.
Arriving in Torshavn, I parked near a café close to the ferry terminal, wanting to be close to the check in area for later tonight. An incredibly kind local noticed that I couldn’t find a parking spot, flagged me down, told me she had seen one a block away, and offered to save it for me while I turned my bike around. The kindness of locals in this area has been so inspiring to me as I reflect on how I can treat others with love.
