NORDIC Paradise

The far-flung, untamed terrains of the Faroe Islands are a traveller’s delight, discovers Tara Lal on her bleakly beautiful journey through its dramatic mountainscape

- Tara Lal

A sheet of icy rain falls steadily from velvety grey clouds. A swirl of silver fog blocks out our view of the snow-covered mountains we’re driving through. “This particular fog is called Mjørki,” explains Jóhannus—our indefatigably cheerful guide. There are 40 words for fog in Faroese. I can understand why. Lying north of Scotland and east of Iceland, this set of 18 volcanic islands with no trees, a proud Viking history and a strategic political position float almost unnoticed in the North Atlantic Ocean buffeted by some of the strongest winds on Earth with a subarctic maritime climate that brings chilly days and foggy views. Welcome to the Faroe Islands. The summer here is known to be delightful and filled with migratory birds, emerald green hills and blue skies along with a small hoard of tourists. But I’ve chosen to arrive in late December, the dreariest time of the year. I have a perverse love for moody landscapes and off-season travel. I definitely deserve the grey skies but I am desperately holding out hope for more.