Alone in the Faroe Islands

Over the past four years, I've found myself returning to the same small group of islands in the middle of the North Atlantic. This is the Faroe Islands, a place shaped by towering sea cliffs, fierce storms, and immense solitude. It's not always an easy place to explore. Plans change constantly, and some days the views that you've traveled halfway around the world to never fully emerge. But that's also what keeps pulling me back. Because every now and then, the weather breaks, and these islands reveal just how extraordinary they are. I've spent countless days exploring these landscapes with a camera in hand, learning to embrace whatever conditions the North Atlantic decides to throw my way. And this film is the culmination of that journey through one of my favorite places on Earth. The Faroe Islands feel like they exist in a world of their own. Situated in the North Atlantic between Iceland, Norway, and Scotland, 18 rugged islands rise from the sea, shaped by volcanoes and glaciers over millions of years. It's very quiet here, only 50,000 people call the Faroes home, spread across a network of small communities connected by ferries, tunnels, and seaside roads. But no matter where you go, one thing remains constant, the weather. And after four years of exploring these islands, I've learned that fighting the forecast is usually a losing battle. So this week, the goal is simple, to embrace whatever comes. My first stop on this trip is Ternovik, a tiny settlement of just 71 people tucked into the northern tip of Strainway. It's one of my favorite villages in the Faroes, incredibly photogenic, and surrounded on all sides by mountains. I really can't imagine how quiet life must be out here. Surely in a place like this, you're pretty close to all your neighbors. But the downside is that going to the grocery store might be a bit of a mission. On today's visit, I saw more sheep than people, which will be a common theme on this trip. They seem far less concerned than I was about the incoming storm. It's definitely going to make this afternoon interesting. Conditions were quickly becoming miserable, but some of my favorite experiences in the Faroes have happened during the worst weather. So instead of making the sensible decision and heading back to the hotel, I made my way up a short trail just outside the village of Aidi. The walk itself wasn't difficult. The Faroes have never been easy on camera gear, but when I finally reached the edge of the cliffs, it was worth every turbulent gust of wind. Massive Atlantic swells exploded against the cliffs below, sending spray high into the air, and the gusts were so strong that the waterfall itself seemed to defy gravity. Blowing back upwards towards the mountains, I was completely soaked. I couldn't stop smiling. It's moments like these that you least expect when you come out here to the Faroe Islands. One of the best things about the Faroes is how quickly you can adapt when conditions change. The islands themselves might be remote, but when you're here, you're rarely more than an hour's drive from anywhere. And today, there's a small chance the sun might make an appearance on the other side of the islands, at one of the Faroes' most iconic viewpoints, Trail Napa. The hike itself isn't much to write home about, but the reward at the end is absolutely spectacular. Standing above the Atlantic, it's impossible not to feel small. Sörgesfaden, the largest lake in the Faroes, appears suspended high above the ocean below, creating one of the most famous optical illusions in the world. But my favorite view lies just beyond the end of the conventional trail, a jagged sea stack rising from the ocean like the fin of a giant shark. Most visitors turn around before reaching this point, but for me, it ended up being the highlight of the entire hike. Sometimes the best views aren't the ones you come for, they're the ones you discover along the way. The next morning began with a return to rainy weather in Tórshavn. As the capital of the Faroe Islands, it's the economic and cultural center of the country, and one of the best places to base yourself while exploring the islands. But today, I wasn't sticking around. Instead, I was bound for Sudaroy, the southernmost island in the Faroes, only accessible by ferry. I've always had a soft spot for ferries as a means of traveling. There's something about watching a destination slowly emerge from the horizon that makes the journey feel like part of the adventure. The crossing takes around two hours, weaving through some spectacular scenery along the way, including a close-up look at Lila Dimun, one of the most isolated islands in the Faroes. It feels like a scene pulled straight from Game of Thrones. Sudaroy feels like a highlight reel of the Faroe Islands. So much of what makes this country special is all packed into one small island. The western coastline is especially dramatic, and is best experienced from the view at Edgenar. It's one of those rare viewpoints where you can get an incredible view without any effort, since the road goes right up to the cliffs. But even more impressive is Bajnesfjord, rising in the distance. Bajnesfjord is one of the tallest sea cliffs in the Faroe Islands, dropping nearly 500 meters straight into the Atlantic below. The hike to the top isn't particularly challenging, but it's steep enough to make you slow down and pay attention. And the reward of the summit is unforgettable. Looking north with expansive views across the island, with Lila Dimun floating offshore in the distance, the scale of everything feels almost impossible to take in. The Faroes have a way of making you feel small, and nowhere was that more obvious than here. Just as the sun finally began to break through, I continued south toward Akerberg Lighthouse, the southernmost point in the Faroe Islands. With its colorful buildings, dramatic cliffs, and endless ocean views, it almost feels like stepping into a Wes Anderson film. As tempting as it was to just spend the entire day here, I only have five hours until I need to catch the ferry back to the mainland, and there is still so much more to see. Just up the road sits the village of Sundba. Sundba is one of the oldest settlements in the Faroes, tucked beneath the cliffs of Bajnesfjord. It's a quiet and colorful place, and I wandered around here for an hour or so without seeing another person. I definitely prefer slower travel, and days like today, where I'm trying to see as much as possible, usually aren't my favorite. But I was determined to make it to one final place before I catch the ferry back to Torshan, as Munderstaker, an infamous sea stack on the northern edge of Sudaroy. It's an incredible formation, but it's the views from above that people come here for. A narrow sheet bridge, carefully placed across a deep crack in the cliffs. Walking across feels both terrifying and exhilarating, and while it makes for a great photo, you are certainly crossing at your own risk. Sudaroy may not be the most visited part of the Faroes, but after a day like today, it really does feel like the best that the Faroe Islands has to offer, and it's a place that I'll miss immediately. After returning from Sudaroy, it was back to the familiar moody weather on the main islands, but the conditions around Tinholmer were actually looking pretty incredible. This wild island rises sharply above the surrounding sea, a jagged ridge that somewhat resembles a dragon's back. The scale of the scene is pretty impossible to capture. That same morning, I took the boat out towards Meechanis, the westernmost island in the Faroes, and one of the main puffin colonies during the summer months. The crossing was rough, but I was still feeling pretty good about the day ahead, which unfortunately didn't last long. By the time I arrived at Meechanis, visibility had basically dropped to zero. It was just me and the fog, and trying to film anything was not easy. I did get a few frames of the puffins, which made it worth the effort and worth the trip, but it wasn't exactly what I was hoping for. After returning to Vegar, I ventured to the small village of Buur. Buur is one of the oldest villages in the Faroe Islands, with roots going back to the early Norse settlements here. What makes Buur special isn't just the location, but how it nestles into the landscape. Small grass-roofed houses tucked into the shoreline, with Tinholmer and Drangoneer framed across the water. It's pretty beautiful, but I was starting to feel the weight of the weather. The rain hadn't really let up much, and while I was really doing my best to embrace the moody conditions, it was becoming challenging. Later that day, I drove across the islands back towards my hotel, as heavy rain pelted the windshield. I was definitely questioning whether it was worth it to stay out, but I relented and continued towards Cape Enneberg. After a few days of heavy rain, the whole cliffside had completely transformed. Dozens of temporary waterfalls spilled straight off the edge of the cliffs into the Atlantic below, with Cape Enneberg, the tallest sea cliff in Europe, towering in the background. It was a mind-blowing scene, only made possible by the wild weather. One of my favorite shots from the trip only exists because I stuck with the rain. I woke up in Klagsvik the next morning to something I really wasn't expecting. Fresh snow blanketing the surrounding mountains. It was almost hard to believe, especially at the beginning of summertime, but I was loving it. That morning, I boarded the ferry to Kalsoy, my favorite island in the Faroes. Even in normal conditions, it's one of the most scenic ferry rides here, just 15 minutes or so cutting across the fjord, surrounded by steep mountains on all sides. But with the snow still covering the mountaintops, these views just felt extra special. Kalsoy feels very different from the rest of the Faroe Islands. It's a long, narrow island with steep mountains dropping straight into the sea on both sides, which makes access feel pretty limited. That being said, the drive across the island is definitely part of the experience. Mykla Delur is a small village on the eastern coast of Kalsoy overlooking the sea, and it's one of the main settlements here, but still only has a population of 26 people. The views from the village are pretty unmatched. Across the sea are the dramatic headlands of Kunoi. I wandered around the quiet streets for a few hours, darting between the colorful homes with my camera in hand. While I certainly love the stillness of this place, I do find myself wishing that there was more I could interact with. From Mykla Delur, I made my way north to Trollenes, starting point for the hike to the Kalur Lighthouse. This is easily one of my favorite short hikes in the Faroes. The trail itself is pretty easy and meanders along a ridgeline above the village, with Kunoi still visible across the water. The wind coming off the Atlantic was frigid, but fortunately the sun was beginning to find its way through the clouds. And as I climbed higher, my anticipation just kept building and building, and suddenly I was standing at the very tip of Kalsoy, with nothing but the open Atlantic spread out before me. It's impossible to describe how it felt to capture this footage. I'd honestly never dreamt of experiencing this place in the snow, and even if I had tried to plan for it, I don't think it would have ever played out this perfectly. The ferry ride back to Klaksvik was quiet. I stood out on the deck as Kalsoy disappeared behind us. My heart was so full after a long day of adventures. Today is the final day of this adventure, and it feels bittersweet, but I'm still hoping to make the most of it. There was still snow hanging around in the mountains, which made for a beautiful drive to the village of Djev. Djev is a small settlement on the northern tip of Aistroy, just a few streets of colorful homes with the mountains of Kalsoy framed across the water. It's mornings like this that I'll miss the most about being out here. There's no rush, no traffic, just beautiful views and the sound of the sea. With the sun beginning to make a rare appearance, I decided to embark on one last hike. Eidiskjöldur is a favorite trail amongst locals, but isn't too well known by tourists. The trail starts gently enough, moving through open farmland above the village of Eidi, but after a few minutes, the ground starts to rise and the coast begins to fall away beneath you. And then, after a little bit of steep uphill, you're standing hundreds of meters above the Atlantic, with the northern end of Aistroy spread out below. In the distance, the mountain Mylingir pierces the horizon, and below, you have this incredible bird's eye view of the sea stacks of Rizin and Kellingen. It's exactly the kind of view you've come to expect out here, the kind that genuinely makes you feel small. And standing there, I could feel that familiar end-of-trip feeling starting to creep in. The one where you're trying to soak everything in because you know that your time here is running out. Where you're already thinking about all the places that you'll miss before you've even left them. That feeling stayed with me as I drove north towards Via Raya, the last village before the road ends, sitting right beneath Cape Enneberg, the tallest sea cliff in Europe. And as I arrived, something unexpected happened. After a week of chasing breaks in the weather, the clouds began to part one last time. Golden light spilled across the landscape. For a few brief moments, everything just came together. A rare parting gift from these islands that felt like a fitting farewell. When I remember this place, it won't just be one view or one experience that comes to mind. It's the feeling that these islands leave me with. A reminder that the world is still far bigger, wilder, and more beautiful than I often remember. Thank you guys so much for watching, and I'll see you next time.