Trøllanes from the hill

Before setting off on that scary path to Mikladalur, I went for a walk up the cirque behind the village. It’s quite steep, and ends in an almost knife-edge ridge with a vertical rockface down to the sea the other side. Lying on a grass slope upwards, poking one’s head out over a vertical drop downwards is a strange experience – especially watching puffins and gulls sweeping about in the updraft up the cliff, just feet away.

I was harassed by skuas on the grassy slope. The first one was a bit scary, because the first I knew about it was when it passed over my head with about an inch to spare – the noise is incredible, like a jet going over, only more sudden. After that I was watching out for them, and discovered that if I shouted when they were still forty or fifty feet away, they’d veer off. One of them was so surprised (I presume) that it seemed to lose control, and ended up dropping to the grass and bowling over like a big ball of feathers.

Faroes, 1983

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