The Special Nature
The
Faroe Islands are built up of layers of volcanic basalt and, as a rule,
are tilted with the eastern shores sloping into the sea and the western
coasts rising up in soaring cliffs. This layer effect is most
pronounced along the more peaceful and protected fjords and sounds.
Along the shores of these fjords and sounds lie the towns and villages
of the Faroes, which sparkle in multicoloured splendour against the
deepgreen swath of cultivated pastureland surrounding them. Above them
rise the mountains with their green sloping fells bounded by dark stony
crags. This interplay between the green fells and rocky protrusions
give the mountains their layered look.
The craggy protrusions
visible in the mountains are the vestiges of enormous layers of basalt
laid down by gigantic volcanoes in the tertiary period some 60 million
years ago. Each basalt layer represents one or more volcanic events. In
between the basalt layers are bands of red tuff, which is the
compressed ash spewed out by the volcanoes between eruptions. Tuff is
softer than basalt and erodes more quickly. The basalt layers gradually
erode and fall down on to the layer below to eventually crumble onto
the earthen slopes where the grasses and heather flourish.
The
western and northern coasts face the unrelenting onslaught of the sea.
Especially in winter the storms break loose and the ocean swells up to
crash against the rocky shoulder of the Faroes. The sea rushes in,
roaring and rumbling, and lashes its full power against the cliffs. The
clamour reverberates from top to bottom as if the tumult came from the
very core of the earth; the sea explodes into foamy surf and slips back
muttering crude, rumbling epithets and promising revenge. Land and sea
wage an endless battle which continues throughout the dark, lonely
nights of winter, year after year, century after century.
Eventually
the soft light of summer returns and all is at peace. The sea stretches
out in stillness, friendly and inviting. The long summer days teem with
seabirds flocking to the soaring cliffs. The collision of cold arctic
currents with the warm Gulf Stream near the Faroe Islands has created
an especially nutrientrich environment for the many birds that breed
here. Ornithologists have identified around 300 bird species in the
Faroe Islands, whereof 40 are regular breeding birds and another 40 are
but infrequent guests. Colonies of puffins inhabit the many ledges and
green swaths at the top of the cliffs. Their breeding grounds are quite
conspicuous because of the deep, bluegreen colour of the grass, which
is a byproduct of years of their active fertilisation.
Now and
again a seal sticks its dark and shiny head up out of the water to see
what is happening just as the individual hiker, having forsaken the
delights of the sea, rises above the clouds lingering about the
mountain tops. On occasion, the weather may not look so promising to
the novice hill walker; the clouds sweep in low and wisps of tattered
cloud play about the mountain slopes. The experienced local guide is
confident however, and quickly selects the correct path and course.
Soon both guide and hill walker emerge from the woollen kingdom of the
clouds, to behold the spectacular vistas of land and sea that stretch
out before them into infinity. Surveying such a vista, one can conjure
up a vision of a once vast and mighty continent, alas now sunk below
the sea millions of years ago.
Of course, there are days when
the fog envelops everything and all you can see is the closest
surroundings. It is then that the flowers come into their own,
undisturbed by what is around them, they stand and nod to the attentive
observer. There is the marsh marigold, recently appointed the Faroese
national flower, found in ditches and wet places in the early summer
months. Then there are all the other more humble flowers, different
from island to island and from hollows to heights.
Notice the
heather flowers, the scotch heather with its violet petals, the bell
heather or the moss campion that stands like a little bush with flowers
that change from pink to dark red. What about all the saxifrage
flowers, ragged robin and the spotted orchid which in its day, just as
the vigorous rose root, was regarded as natures own viagra? Not
forgetting the Faroese lady’s mantle that grows nowhere else in the
world or the glacier buttercup only to be found up on the highest
mountains?
Just a short distance from the new asphalt roads,
the bold wayfarer is soon alone in the mountain heath, in a lonesome
valley, or clambering over rocky heights. There an ethereal silence
reigns, full of nature’s own sounds – the sounds of trembling water
over stone or tufts of grass, the sound of the sea, the golden plover,
the curlew, and the snipe. Perchance the coarse call of the gull may
descend into the tranquillity of the moment and penetrate the deep
reflections of the more intrepid wanderers, as he either explores the
secrets of the moor or she rests briefly upon a white, lichen covered
rock before setting out upon the next segment of their trek.
Those
that travel with their computer or mobile telephone by their side or
swiftly journey from village to village looking only at the mileage or
their watch, may begin to think to their amazement that this country is
much too small to encompass so grand a display of nature. But for those
that emerge from their modern technological shells, they will discover
that the natural wonders of the Faroes cannot be reckoned by size or
distance, but only by their eternal essence.
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