The Faroe/Iceland Expedition, 1979

Torremolinos by storm, and then moving north to Madrid, where we visited a spectacular bull-fight in the main ring.

The final crossing from Santander to Plymouth was pleasantly calm, and after stopping for fish and chips near Plymouth, we arrived safely in York at around 7 p.m. (Wednesday, 18th April). There was a marked absence of deck-chairs on returning, and there was some speculation as to whether they had failed to stand up to the wear and tear of the expedition or whether we had all simply eaten too much. If this is any indication, Mr. Daniel was one of the first to fall through his chair!

Finally it only remains to be said that we are all very grateful to have had the opportunity of going on this expedition and thank Mr. Daniel and Mr. Bulcock very greatly for giving us such a marvellous time; many thanks also to all who were connected in any way with the expedition, including our parents for enabling us to go.

G.C.

The expedition party, led by Mr. Daniel and Mr. Hughes, consisted of: John Abbott, Kevin Clarkson, Lawrence Bleasdale, John McGrath, Paul Aagaard, Bill Barnish, Paul Greenwood, Tim Raylor, Geoff Townsend, Paul McCarter, Robert Bowles, Rod Craig, Phil Johnson and Steve Buckle.

All assembled promptly on the morning of Sunday, 15th July, and having packed the trailer the night before, the journey was soon under way shortly after 7.3o a.m.

After leaving York in brilliant sunshine, the weather steadily deteriorated, until with 490 miles behind us, we pitched camp in a light drizzle.

The following day was again typical of the Scottish Highlands and we quickly moved on to Thurso to do some boat shopping before going to meet the vessel itself at Scrabster, on the north Scottish coast.

At 4.00 p.m. we boarded the `SmyriP and were soon bound for the Faroe Islands. The crossing itself was choppy and most of the party felt queasy, and so it was with great relief that we emerged in Torshaun, the capital of these Danish-owned islands, in the early hours of Tuesday morning. The weather, however, was unkind, though typically Faroese, as it relentlessly poured with rain. Nonetheless, the rain did not totally hide the unique scenery of Faroe — in particular that of the lush green hills, the fast flowing streams, and the tidy houses with grass roofing. And so amidst the rain we became acquainted with the Faroes, touring all around the main island, Streymoy, and venturing farther on to the neighbouring island, Eysturoy.

That evening the weather brightened and we were able to pitch camp near to the road in Skalafjordur. The site soon became a focal point for passing cars and all gave a friendly smile and wave to the party. One local even sold us some cod, which Kevin Clarkson, along with various able assistants, nobly and skilfully prepared and filleted.

The rain returned that night, along with some Faroese bullocks which had earlier been driven away from the area. However, this time the attack was unnoticed and a tent was savagely hoofed, from which a rather dismayed and by that time soggy Geoff Townsend and Tim Raylor bailed out and made quickly for the minibus.

The rain continued into the morning, with the tents absolutely saturated. It was so wet that it was impossible to get up for breakfast, and so a few brave members of the expedition proceeded to serve breakfast in bed to the majority with excellent service!

The situation was desperate. The party needed a stroke of luck, and the good fortune came when a local, seeing our plight, offered us a room and garage. The offer was gratefully accepted and we were soon drying out.

We did not camp again in the Faroes, but stayed in Gotugjogv, enjoying the luxurious hospitality of Mr. Jacob Hansen.

Our adopted host also acted as a guide, showing us several interesting locations in Eysturoy, including a trout farm and several Faroese buildings such as the local school and meeting house.

One of the most fascinating places was Oyndarfjordur with its legendary `moonstones'. The legend runs that in the seventeenth century two French ships came to the Faroes to pillage and to recruit slaves. As these ships were departing, an old witch from the hills forbade this act and turned the ships into two huge rocks, one of which sways in the water, causing a surface displacement of the order of ten or so centimetres. An incredible sight to behold.

After the whole group had been entertained to trifle and home-movies in the Hansens' home, it was with great satisfaction that we left the Faroe Islands and reboarded the `SmyriP on its passage for Iceland.

It was at this stage, however, that the weather on the sea became really vicious, and `Smyril' gave even the best sea travellers sickness problems. Phil Johnson and Bill Barnish must definitely merit a mention for their sporting performances!

Still we battled on to Iceland, arriving in Seydisfjordur on Saturday evening (21st July), and with the diesel cans filled up, we set off in a westerly direction across the island.

The first difficulty to overcome was the roads. When Desmond Bagley had said in his book, 'Running Blind', 'The average Icelandic road makes an English farm-track look like a super highway,' he wasn't joking! Progress was slow, and after travelling a mere thirty miles, we camped just outside Egilsstadir.

What a welcome surprise gereted us when we woke up on Sunday morning. The sun was shining brightly and the air was crystal clear, with views stretching for miles on end. It was quite different from the iron grey skies and bleak mountain bases, so often depicted of northern Iceland.

Making the most of the good weather, we travelled along the 'ring road' and then along a track towards a famous snow-covered mountain, `Herdubrerd', which in English translates as 'broad shoulders', quite befitting the shape of the mountain.

The track also introduced us to some Icelandic larva flows, and whilst most of the party were content with a small piece of larva for a souvenir, John Abbott will always be remembered for the sizeable piece of the country he brought back with him!

Evenings in Iceland are generally somewhat cool. This is because of a cold northerly wind, known as `Hafgola' which blows in from arctic regions, and so extra sweaters were often required as the evenings progressed.

Having accounted for the lava and taken heed of the cold, we spent Sunday night near an extinct volcano crater (Hrossaborg), which had formed a spectacular natural amphitheatre.

The weather was equally good for the next few days and we travelled along the ring road, visiting some marvellous sulphur springs at Namaskard before we reached Myvatn.

Myvatn literally means `midge-pit', but we spent several midge-free hours in the area, primarily to bathe in the hot water pools, which at about 40 °C are incredibly relaxing and refreshing, but also to look at some most unusual lava formations (Dimmuborgir) and to climb up a volcano (Hverfjall).

After Myvatn, we set course for Akureyri, the great north Icelandic metropolis, containing io,000 people and being the third largest Icelandic city. Here we set about buying various commodities, the most popular being woollen goods, which were found to be good value. That evening we dined tastefully in Akureyri and enjoyed some very good food.

Thursday was spent visiting Husavik, which is a major fishing port, and then driving on to the most northerly point of Iceland, which practically brushes the Arctic circle. Here, Mr. Hughes, Kevin Clarkson and Paul Greenwood boldly ventured into the sea, and although it was only a quick dip, it will certainly be a memorable wetting.

Also to be found on the northern coast was an incredible variety of birdlife, carefully monitored by Geoff Townsend. His most amazing observation being that of a Gyr Falcon.

Waterfalls are said to be spectacular in Iceland, and we were by no means let down with our visit to Dettifoss, a very broad fall with a thundering 44 m. drop.

Friday was a day for heading back to Seydisfjordur and we found a good place to camp that evening along the fjord.

The proximity of the sea inspired Robert Bowles and John McGrath to attempt some fishing using a needle and thread. Three rather inedible fish (or rather two fish with one caught twice) were all that resulted.

If the encounter with the Faroese bullocks had not been enough, this final camp was besieged at some unearthly hour by wild horses and sheep, which after a brief encounter with Paul McCarter, Bill Barnish and Robert Bowles, were soon herded away by the rest of the party to pester some other European campers before moving farther down the fjord.

The return boat journey was much more pleasant with the sea almost placid, and after a short stopover in Torshavn, where everyone was wrapped up in festival celebrations, the group was soon back in Scotland, arriving mid-afternoon and then travelling overnight down to York.

So what of Iceland ? I think everyone now realises just how large the country is, while still relishing the variety, scope and beauty of the land. We have seen so much, yet explored so little. I'm sure we shall all return.

Finally, I would like to thank all the members of the group for combining to produce such a successful trip. Special thanks must go to Mr. Daniel and to Mr. Hughes for all the hard work they both put into the trip.

J.A.M.