Moving On 13.07
Faeroes
Wind
Variable mainly northwesterly 3 or 4, increasing 5 at times.Sea State
Slight or moderate.Weather
Showers.Visibility
Good, occasionally poor in northeast.
8.30 am and I'm packed and ready. In true backpacker style I'm carrying a small portion of rice, an onion, stock cube, carrot, tomato, rye bread, hard boiled egg, sliced cheese, hunk of cucumber and of course my Doue Egberts coffee I brought from home. Enough to keep me going for the next twenty four hours, there's no danger of being remote and unable to buy food but old habits die hard and I have six hours before my ferry and 6.30pm before I arrive at my destination so a picnic and supplies sound good.
I wonder why everything in life seems such hard work for me and so frightening. few people would know that i am a bag of nerves at times, with strangers, new situations, new places.....
Im at the bus stop ten minutes early, I panic the bus won't arrive, or I'm have miss read the timetable. It doesn't help when it is five minutes late and despite despite having several hours, and several busses, to manage a one hour journey I'm feeling stressed.
I survive the bus journey intact, although get on with my backpack, wrong, it's a coach and I should have put it in the luggage compartment, i frustrate the driver, by trying to give him my money, wrong, i need to slot coins into the correct holes without knowing which hole is for which. the bus lurches away leaving me to annoy people, wrong, by walking up the aisle catching them with my pack. i do so hate feeling inefficent. Hey ho.
The full extent of the majesty of this landscape, only becomes apparent from the big windows of the coach I am on. When driving, it is impossible to really look out of the windows and in the car the viewing area is small. I enjoy looking out of the window and I think perhaps, in my dotage, I might enjoy bus tours.
I watch and see drainage channels have been cut, fen like, into areas of land both on the flat and sloping up the hillside. Given the quantity and quality of the grass I am surprised that not more animals are here and that some are grazing on low-level pasture, not up in the hills. The summer and winter pastures are marked with stone walls that stretch miles along the hillsides, broken in places or replaced with wire fencing. I get very excited when I realise that the hedge like thing, I am puzzling over, is actually hay, densely draped over fence wire, drying. I have concluded that with you around the temperatures ranging from 3 to 12° grass thrives in these conditions. It is never too hot and dry to stunt its growth, nor yet too cold. all year round growth.
I watch and see drainage channels have been cut, fen like, into areas of land both on the flat and sloping up the hillside. Given the quantity and quality of the grass I am surprised that not more animals are here and that some are grazing on low-level pasture, not up in the hills. The summer and winter pastures are marked with stone walls that stretch miles along the hillsides, broken in places or replaced with wire fencing. I get very excited when I realise that the hedge like thing, I am puzzling over, is actually hay, densely draped over fence wire, drying. I have concluded that with you around the temperatures ranging from 3 to 12° grass thrives in these conditions. It is never too hot and dry to stunt its growth, nor yet too cold. all year round growth.
The grey, fjord watch, 'battleship' now sits in Kollafjørdur harbour and I remember seeing it there last evening driving home from Klaksvig. I am pleased that the coach doesn't fill up, we stop several times, people get on and people get off. Despite my anxiety, my backpack taking up a seat causes no difficulty.
the bus terminal turns out to also be the ferry terminal, brilliant, something that's helpful. i find a locker, but cant work out how to use it. the instructions on the door seem to suggest something is missing from inside the locker, the place to put money, lock it and get the receipt. after looking in several lockers for coin slots i find one with an english translation on the door which directs me to a machine close by for the essentials. All I have to do here, is deposit bag and close the door.
i deposit my rucksack, bravely walk a tiny way to some old buildings and find a bench to sit on to relieve my nerves and relax. I am pleased to have been to Tórshavn once before with Marit, the only time I actually went anywhere with her, on the day of the boat trip. This gives a small sense of familiarity, at least of the harbour area, for which i am grateful.
I eat rye bread with cheese and try to make a plan for my day. my ferry leaves at 4, five and a half hours. Although I think I have no idea what to do or where to go, as I read, I discover that I have already read about Torshavn and marked the things I want to do, not least of all how to use the free bus services. I discover I am near to a Viking sundial carved in the rocks and rather than sit here writing, I want to go see, touch it and then go exploring by bus. Staying here, writing, would be safer. Writing is my haven in the midst of chaos.
Two and a half hours later, Tórshavn, the smallest capital in the world, or so I am informed, done and dusted, many anxious moments and a mini adventure to boot.
