Oyggjarvegur, the old mountain road from Torshavn, the tiny capital of the Faroes, towards the northern islands, is spectacular. But then, nothing less is to be expected in the world’s best island-destination. In places, there are no barriers between us and a 1000-foot drop into the chilling waters of the North Atlantic fjord. We edge slowly towards the deliciously dizzying chasm.
Taking a step back, I almost stumble over a ram’s skull, tufts of grass protruding through the cavities where its eyes once were. All along the road, sheep graze, oblivious to traffic. This is the Faroe (meaning sheep) Islands, after all.
With verdant, stunning scenery, shaggy sheep in the middle of the road and plunging gorges; these ancient Viking isles are quite literally drop-dead gorgeous.
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