Faroe Islands Day 4: No Puffins For You!

While I've avoided mentioning it (#toosoon) throughout my posts about the first three days in the Faroe Islands, one of the highlights of our trip was to be slated for day four: I was finally going to get to see PUFFINS. These adorable, derpy birds are absolutely everywhere in guides for the islands. Every tourist lure has a shiny little puffin dangling on the end of it. For MONTHS leading up to our trip, it was my favorite thing to mention. I built up a whole dialogue of hype. "Puffin Watch 2018" I dubbed my quest as, joking on social media for the first several days.

Day four arrived and, spoiler alert: it was the day my puffin dreams went to die. And here was how it came about....

Friday

• After a ridiculously awesome hotel breakfast, we departed for what I labelled our pre-puffin adventure. Map for the morning jaunt can be found here.
• To start the day, I had saved one of the most iconic views. We hopped islands and drove under and ocean and through a mountain to get to the village of Gasadalur to see the Mulafossur Waterfall. For several kilometers of that route, it was apparently field trip day and the one lane (two-way traffic) cliff roads were swarmed with children... Children we almost knocked off said cliff with our car because, like the local sheep, they would not move out of the way. 
• No infant lives were lost, and when we got to our destination: it was just as picturesque as they say. Only a dozen or so people live there, and prior to 2004, you couldn't even reach this area via car. Now that it's accessible: it's a must-see stop! We hiked around for awhile before I got antsy and began our journey south again.

Looking out to Mykines, where my puffins awaited!

• Next up, I really wanted to hike out to see Drangarnir, but since it's such a difficult hike and I knew we'd be going by the gorgeous formation on our ferry ride later, we instead went to Bøur to see it from across the way. Once again we wandered among cute little grass roofed houses, as I quietly jumped for joy that we'd soon be boarding a helicopter to go to the magical puffin island. IE I was so excited that we had to leave, and got to the airport an hour before our flight. 

Eyeing up the dragon rock from the other side.

• And that is when the puffin shit hit the fan...
• As I mentioned previously, there is a fair bit of logistics involved in getting to certain spots. To get to this puffin paradise, the island of Mykines, we were going to helicopter from Vagar airport. Helicopters can only be taken one way (and only fly M-W-F), so we planned to take a ferry back, knowing we'd only have about 2 hours to explore the island, which would be JUST long enough for us to hike to the lighthouse on Mykines and back, allowing even minimal time for all the puffin snuggling/smuggling that I had planned. 
• When we checked in at the airport for our chopper trip, they asked how we planned to get back (since some people forget it's one-way), we explained the ferry we were taking and that we already had tickets. They asked if we knew there was a special fee to hike on Mykines, and we said yes, explaining we'd already purchased that pass as well. We were set. They directed us to watch the helicopter safety video and I ran to the bathroom thirty times as we waited, since I was so excited. A) Neither of us had ever been on a helicopter before and B) it was FINALLY puffin time!
• That's when I began to notice several different groups of people arguing with the desk people, and leaving. So, mere moments before we were to board, I finally got curious and went to the desk to ask what was going on. Fun fact: the ferry back was cancelled. NO announcement was made, there was no indication, and when we called the ferry, they said they were NOT cancelled officially, but had cancelled the last several trips.... the odds were not in our favor. Cue me having a nervous breakdown at the Atlantic Airways counter. 
• Then all the stages of grief kicked in....
• Shock: In which I gestured to the perfect, sunny day outside, I asked why on earth it'd be cancelled. WAVES. Fucking waves. Doesn't matter how beautiful the weather is, the waves can still be jerks and be too rough for a ferry docking on a tiny island with a tiny harbor. There was not the usual rain and storms though, it was perfect out, and we had done everything right. 
• Denial: In which I pleaded with the beau: there was a chance. I mean, the ferry wasn't FOR SURE cancelled. We could risk it - and risk being stuck there and risk missing our flight the next day....
• Anger: In which I yelled at the woman at the counter and she explained that "it's just the way it is" because they're just used to being at the mercy of waves and not having alternative solutions available.
• Bargaining: In which I told the said woman at the counter she would just HAVE to make an exception, and allow us to helicopter back. And in which she told me no, the helicopter back was full because it was carrying the people who'd been stuck their since Wednesday (the day of the last flight) because the ferry had been cancelled every day since.
• Depression: In which I openly sobbed at this poor woman who I was witnessing the full gamut of my breakdown. 
• Lying/Melodrama: Okay, these aren't real stages, but at this point I started telling the beau to just lie to them and convince them to somehow make this happen. Suggestions like, "Tell them you were going to propose on that island, or that I have a terminal illness" came out. I'm not proud, but I don't regret.
• Testing: In which we discussed with a blue haired Instagrammer and her man, who had been trying to get to the island in vain for days. We thought aloud the options with them, but all pointed to too much risk and us likely missing out flight back to Copenhagen, and thus spending an exorbitant amount of money switching flights, after several days of camping (with no equipment / food) on a tiny island. (Not to mention our rental car would end up overdue and our stuff was still back in a hotel in Tórshavn.)
• Acceptance: So... we told them to fly without us, and that we, like the other dozen people who had been counting on that ferry, would not be going to Mykines. There would be NO puffins today.
• Through my tears, I had the beau Google where to find puffins elsewhere. There was one possibility, but we had to hurry. So we dashed to the car and kicked it into high gear. Here's a map of what happened next....
• En route, we booked online for a boat tour in Vestmanna, which lead out to the sea cliffs where many puffins and other birds call home. It was our second chance! We could still see the puffins! We would have just enough time to make the drive and board to catch the last tour of the day, per their website. So when we arrived, the beau ran ahead to get us checked in, while I quickly ran to the restroom. 
• When I came out, I could see him arguing with the woman at the counter, and my heart sank. I knew something was wrong. Fun fact: their website was a lie. They'd decided to leave at a different time today (despite the fact that it LET US BOOK online) and there would be no more boats today. The next one was in the morning - if we tried for it, and the tour ran even a half hour longer than expected, we'd miss our flight... again with the risk. 
• So, I stomped out of the boat house and looked up towards the hills. Cliffs, they'd said. Too difficult to hike to without a guide. Very far. I instructed the beau to drive us to the foot of the mountain.... we were going to climb those damn hills. I was GOING to see my puffins, if it killed me.
• And then we climbed... we climbed and climbed. Til we were at the edge of a cliff. The first cliff of many, with little gorges in between that you'd have to spend hours to hike around. And where were the puffins, you ask? Well. Not on that first cliff. Staring down into the gorge I knew - it just wasn't in the cards. 

Dear Puffins, are you there? It's me, Gina.

• So we left Vestmanna, my puffin hopes dashed, and headed back over the island of Vágar to visit the last iconic location on my list: Sørvágsvatn. It's the largest lake on the islands and feeds into the ocean near Trælanípan, a large cliff area that is only a short hike and towers above the lake. Thanks to this awesome blog, we had the perfect coordinates for parking and details for the hike.

Lake life: only slightly different than lake life in Wisconsin...

• After an emotional roller coaster, the scenic hike along the lake and subsequent dangling off a cliff edge, were just what I needed. It was stunning. We saw more people than normal (since this was an easy hike and close to the airport, it's more visited by tourists probably), and witnessed various photographers go way further to the edge of different areas than we dared. We sat and watched the sun begin to set in the area where lake meets ocean, and it was, dare I say, fucking magical.

Seriously though: lake goals.

• Post-hike, we rushed back to Tórshavn to try and catch dinner somewhere before everything closed. One of the only spots open still (after 10pm) was an Italian restaurant called Toscana. This was one of those meals where we didn't care the cost, we just needed the relaxation of a good meal with a cozy atmosphere. (It was a good thing we didn't care, because it ended up being rather expensive lol) They played nothing but Frank Sinatra music (yas) and we binged on fresh salmon, shellfish, and escargot. Very much worth it. 

It was a day with many very high notes of the trip, and a very low point as well. We missed out on both the helicopter ride and the puffins that we had been talking about for months leading up to the trip, yes, but we also saw some of the most striking views on Vágar. Picture-perfect spots and beautiful walks. A lot of zig-zagging and island hopping during my puffin-conquest, but otherwise just a day of impressive sights. This day, more than any other point in our trip, solidified one fact: when it comes to the Faroes, we'll be back. 

"And they never saw her again..."

For tales of the journey home, pop by my Copenhagen Round 2 post!