Yesterday we went for an ‘easy walk’.
Well, it was meant to be an easy walk until my hosts — my guides – forgot where exactly where we were going.
‘It’s just over the next rise…’
‘No, I’m sure it’s over there…’
‘Well, let’s just go all over the mountains. I’m sure Seb will be fine… Look at him, he’s all big and strong and…’
<They think I can’t hear them. But my hearing is heightened in extreme circumstances…>
“Hey guys, what’s happening? My legs are like jelly — they still haven’t recovered after our warm up mountain climb yesterday — and my heart is suggesting in no uncertain terms that to continue would be akin to harakiri. You keep saying our destination is ‘just over there’… it’s been two hours, three chasms, four moraines and a handful of waterfalls…”
‘It is just over here! Come on!’
… (Something tells me they’re enjoying this way too much)…
In the end, it turned out that we’d climbed about a kilometer above our actual destination. But I did get to sit beside a waterfall and watch the fog slowly blow in and lazily fold its way over the hills. Visibility got down to about 5 meters and then… it just blew away. Magical!
Two photos for you this morning — one from about half way up the hill, one from the bottom. I have a bunch of ‘snaps’ that I’ll probably share at the end of the trip. Me looking like death, me sprawled out on a rock, me skinny dipping in a pool beneath a waterfall — that kind of thing.
In other news, I’m still not sleeping more than 2 or 3 hours each night. We’re going to try hanging black bags over the windows, see if that helps. I had fish pie last night and it was lovely. Still no whale, still no puffin — but I’ll try to rectify that in the next few days.
Oh, and there’s a wet t-shirt context next Wednesday! I thought those had been outlawed by feminists around the world… obviously not in the Faroes. Yay!