I must learn to wait, to be patient, to trust others. For much of my life I have had to be independent, to look after myself. I cannot say I felt loved or cared for in my childhood and my fierce independence was learned at an early age as a means of survival, protecting my fragile ego in the best way I knew how when facing a world that I felt was against me.
Today, this protection serves me less well and it is when travelling that I find myself best able to accept generosity and trust strangers. It was uncomfortable that this did not seem to be the case in my current situation. Indeed it is fair to say that I am still wary, still untrusting but I think now that I have no need.
For the second day in a row I have a free day to roam the islands at will with Marita's car. I received a text at 11.35 last evening which I did not see or read until 3.45 am. Fully expecting to work today I had no plans. I stirred fretfully, annoyed that she has circumvented my plans to ask for three days off in a row but I managed to drift back to sleep and woke again at 6. With coffee in bed it was not difficult to put a day together for myself.
I told Marita of my plans, talked about yesterday and what a rewarding day I had had and then added that really it is important to be able to know, if I am to have two days off in a row, so I can make plans for myself. She laughed and scorned me, what is the point, she said of planning days off and then it pours with rain. This is the Faroes and you must do everything by the weather.
Indeed, it is true that the days I worked long hours it was pouring with rain. My short day, two days ago was bright and clear and apart from short but heavy rainfall yesterday it was a good day. This morning the air is bright and fresh and I am waiting to board a boat trip to the cliffs and grottos from Vestmanna, I must watch the time carefully.
Today, the tunnel did not frighten me, it was now a known friend and even the slight incline half way through did not unnerve for i knew it to be too early to hold hopes of daylight. I managed a better speed and driving on the right is now the natural thing to do. Yesterday's toll of £10 was apparently unnecessary, Marita has a permit. She wrote me a note so I claimed a refund without difficulty. Without tolls to pay and with the apparent easy loan of her car, the islands are richly open for me and I need fret less about booking accommodation and making plans. Trust and you will receive.
It is Sunday but I trust that's the only biblical quote for today. Marita's home is full of pictures of Jesus and biblical references, items that hang and adorn furniture suggest a cross between Catholicism and Sikhism but it could just be Marita's inimical style. The churches themselves are plain and simple, wooden, without adornment but there are many works of art showing Jesus in bright colours with nothing sombre about his presentation.
The landscape I have driven through this morning on southern Streymoy has been much softer. I have been driving high above the sea with good vision but none of the crags of yesterday, just gentle green slopes. I have started a notebook to try to scribble the snippets as they occur to my mind. Snippets of random thoughts that piece together into a journey of exploration. I fret that yesterday may have disappeared in a blur and don't want today's thoughts to do the same. Its time to find my boat.
I stand at the prow of my ship swaying as we dance through the water. The swell is high and the current fierce. Several times we have drifted perilously close to rocks on this cluster of green craggy islands as we sail close to shore. There are plentiful birds and fish for food, running water and caves for shelter. The current is strong and the land inaccessible enough to deter marauders yet I will find a sheltered cove. I will leave the sick and weakly here along with the truculent. There is no room for them with me on viking explorations, what fool I to bring them. I will leave them man and woman, sheep and a boat. I will return in a year to see how they have fared.
Clouds drift around rocky peaks layering the green and softening the crags. Green rocky stack and pillar emerge from the cloud as we round the bend. Multitude of birds take abrupt flight from high rocky ledges diving for food or rehearsing take off and landing. They are of many different plumages, like we in our longboat, they dance in the swell. This will make a good beginning for my people. I would stay too but there is not enough here for us all.
This is the life. Lying high on a rocky ledge surrounded by blossom, legs soaking up the hottest ray's while the wind nips at my bare arms tickled by grass. At last I have found a comfortable resting place, off the path but not damaging the fragile grass and or distressing birds. I could lie here for hours with nature for my companion.
I am tired, the last few days have seen much exploration and I cut short my day. On leaving Vestmanna heading for Gjøgv, the heavens opened and teeming rain began to pour just as it did on this stretch yesterday. I decide not to continue my journey but turn at the roundabout to head home instead.
I overshoot, decide to come to Gásadalur to see this beauty for myself. I drive through my first single track tunnel, dimly lit and without cats eyes. It is hard to see pull ins but entrance signs indicate a large black arrow which gives me right of way. My eyes do not acclimatise easily in the gloom and I cannot see clearly despite my headlights being on. I hope the pull ins will be more visible by return. I exit into an expanse of grassy hills in a circular glacial valley, surrounded on three sides by mountains and on the fourth by the sea. A handful of dwellings exist in this remote terrain.
I haven't seen a slug since I've been here. I have noticed this with surprise several times, perhaps it is the salt or the profusion of birds. Cars emerge from the mouth of the tunnel in a steady trail, half way up the hillside, busier than I envisaged. Sunday must be a buttercup day.
I'm ready to work again, back at zero hours I look forward to clocking up more bids for freedom. I may even wash that rancid kitchen floor tomorrow. The brother cleaned after himself and removed the cover from the dried out dessert. The sister cooked last evening and I note that the dead dessert has now gone, many more things have been found a home and the kitchen begins to look worthy of such a name.
They say you get four seasons weather in one day. This morning was spring, fresh and clear with promise in the air, the downpour a cold, stay in the warm, winters day. A short while ago I was basking in summer but the sun has been stolen and the cold wind begins to bite, reminiscent of one of those crisp autumn morning when you suddenly become aware that September has drawn to an end.
The cloud is dense, drifting and low, unfurling downwards as I watch. The sun has been chased far out to sea and birds no longer play in the thermals. Fluffy clouds drift around the rim of this almost circular enclave but sink slowly downwards in the centre. I wonder if I should move but intrigue holds me. My path is way marked and not too distant, although undulating and rough. I can feel the damp in the air, gloom has descended and I remove my sunnies, pull my berghaus from my bag, put on my woolly hat and my gloves.
I notice a small spider carrying a collection of bright red eggs on his back and now that I'm sitting looking at the earth, I see angelica growing beside me and notice puffins in the cliffs to my right.
Mykines, as well as the mountains behind me, are now half shrouded in cloud.
I am told you can see the Shetlands from Scotland and the Orkneys from Shetland but from the Faroes there is no other land in sight.
It is 7pm and I am cold.
Hebrides, Bailey, Fair Isle, Faeroes
Variable 3 or 4. Slight or moderate. Showers. Good, occasionally moderate
