Between Iceland and Scotland Lies a Drama Queen Called the Faroes
What happens when you put cliffs, puffins, sheep, and questionable weather in one very photogenic blender.
If Iceland and Norway had a dramatically beautiful child who grew up with a superiority complex and questionable cell phone coverage, it would be the Faroe Islands. Tucked between Scotland and Iceland, the Faroes feel like the place Earth keeps hidden for special occasions, like a secret level in a video game you only unlock after proving you can handle wind speeds that technically qualify as “emotional abuse.”
I visited in late summer 2025, that magical few weeks when the weather pretends to be cooperative, the sheep are fluffy and judging you from every angle, and the waterfalls are still showing off like they’re competing for follower counts. The days are long, the light is golden, and every vista looks like it was professionally lit by a very moody Scandinavian cinematographer.
Like Iceland and Greenland, tourism here is exploding. Unlike Iceland, the infrastructure is…let’s call it “beginner,” in the same way a middle school band recital is “music.” You won’t find direct flights from the U.S., so you’ll need to hop through Iceland or mainland Europe first. But go soon. Really. Before the influencer hordes show up en masse with drones, selfie sticks, tour busses, and the stamina to block your view for 45 consecutive minutes.
Meet Your Hosts: The Sheep
I swear the Faroese sheep are part philosopher, part supermodel, part local government. They pose dramatically on cliffs, stare into your soul like they’re calculating your carbon footprint, then wander off as if you’ve disappointed them with your general existence. They also have a kind of ancient-wisdom energy, like they know exactly when the weather will turn but refuse to tell you because you didn’t bring enough layers.
Fun fact: there are twice as many sheep as people in the Faroes. Also fun fact: every single one of them looks like it has a secret, and that secret is probably about you.
Birds, Cliffs, Drama — Oh My
If you’ve ever wanted to watch puffins wobble around like they’re wearing someone else’s oversized shoes, this is your moment. They cling to the mossy cliffs with the energy of creatures who were not designed for cliffs but simply committed to the bit. They arrive, they look confused, they flap aggressively, and then they yeet themselves into the wind with all the self-confidence of a toddler in a superhero cape.
And the cliffs? They look like the Earth rage-quit halfway through the sculpting process and decided, “Eh. Vertical is fine.” Every angle feels like a postcard someone photoshopped for drama, except it’s real and trying to blow your hat off.
Yes, That’s a Roundabout Inside a Mountain
One of the Faroes’ proudest achievements is a glowing subterranean roundabout inside an undersea tunnel. This sounds fake, and yet it is aggressively real. Driving through it feels like entering a video game level where the boss fight is punctual public transport and the reward is emerging into yet another valley of sheep.
The islands are linked by an impressive labyrinth of underwater tunnels; the Faroese answer to “Should we build a bridge?” is almost always “No, let’s go through the mountain instead.” It’s the kind of engineering confidence that makes you wonder if these people have ever even heard of structural anxiety.
Mountains That Look Like Layer Cakes
The Faroese landscape is stacked in neat horizontal layers like nature’s version of a Great British Bakeoff showstopper…if that pastry had cliffs that drop 500 feet straight into the Atlantic. No matter where you stand, you’re either looking up at someone else’s sheep or down at your own poor life choices. The hills look like they were built by a geologist who really, really loves stripes.
And when the sun hits them just right, you swear you can hear the mountains whisper “no filter needed.”
Cliffs That Make You Whisper “Okay…wow”
These cliffs are rude. They’re too tall, too dramatic, too cinematic. They make every photo look AI-generated, even though the only artificial intelligence involved is the puffin deciding whether to fly or fall. Standing at Kallur feels like being inside a tourism commercial directed by Mother Nature on a day she woke up choosing violence and beauty.
And the wind? It’s not wind. It’s a personality test.
Quiet Corners You Get All to Yourself
One moment you’re on a cliff that could host a Viking rock concert; the next, you’re in a still, sheltered gorge where the water barely ripples and the silence feels thick enough to bottle. The Faroes specialize in mood swings: weather, landscape, your own emotional stability. There are moments so peaceful you’ll consider buying a tiny house, a wool sweater, and a new identity.
Then the fog rolls in sideways and ruins all your plans.
Church With a Haircut
The iconic turf-roof churches are straight out of a Nordic storybook. Practical and adorable, the rooftops provide insulation, rain absorption, and sheep snacks. And yes, the locals do mow the roof, and no, they don’t use a lawnmower. (It’s the sheep. Obviously.) In a world of shiny glass mega-churches, the Faroes looked at religion and said, “What if…grass?”
These churches might be the most charming buildings on Earth, and that’s before you hear the wind sing through them.
Villages at the Foot of Mountains That Should Not Exist
Tiny villages cling to steep green valleys with such determination you can’t help rooting for them. Each one looks like it was assembled from a Lego starter kit called Nordic Coziness: Extreme Edition. Houses are brightly painted, roads are narrow, and everything feels like a movie set built for a film where nothing bad ever happens except running out of coffee.
It’s impossible not to imagine yourself living here…right up until you remember the winter wind.
And Finally, the Waterfall Flex
This is the waterfall. The one you’ve seen on every “10 places you won’t believe exist” list. Spoiler: it does exist, and it’s somehow even more extra in real life. Múlafossur doesn’t just fall, it performs. The spray catches the light, the ocean roars dramatically, and the cliffs lean in for their close-up.
If waterfalls had publicists, this one would be booked through 2037.
The Faroes in Three Truths
The weather lies. It says sun, you get fog. It says fog, you get sideways rain. It says rain, you get sheep. Sometimes you get all three at once, just for fun.
Nature is loud without making a sound. The landscapes scream silently, aggressively, beautifully.
You will take 800 pictures and all of them will look like a Windows desktop background. And you will show them to people who will say “Wow!” while silently resenting your life choices.
Five Hot Tips for Visiting the Faroe Islands
Book early, like…too early. Hotels and rental cars disappear faster than puffins spotting a photographer. Book months ahead unless you like sleeping in your rental car (which, honestly, might also be gorgeous but cold).
Check the weather hourly. Then ignore it. The Faroese weather app should be classified as creative fiction. You’ll learn more by staring at a sheep.
Rent a car. Public transport exists, but your patience will evaporate before the bus arrives. Some villages have two buses a day. Maybe.
Respect the sheep. They are the true landlords. You’re just visiting their archipelago of vibes.
Go now. Before it becomes the next Greenland and you have to elbow influencers to see the view. Trust me: future-you will be smug about having come early.
Good story Zjadon - thank you!!
Wow I wonder if we crossed paths! We visited the Faroes (Strendur) in August as well and, despite the fussy weather, expensive tunnels and hard to time ferry schedules, we kinda fell in love with the place. It’s mostly unbothered by tourists and things just operate on a slower pace. The people we met were lovely too. ☺️