We stand on deck as the ferry slices through banks of North Atlantic mist, then suddenly a vast berg of rock looms forward, and another, like Odin’s lost war fleet, anchored somewhere off Valhalla. Arrival by sea in the Faroes is a memorable experience. A few houses huddle by the water, weatherboard walls smartly painted in burgundy or blue, many with a turf roof. The narrow roads look exposed, edging along shorelines or snaking up into the clouds. Cycling here is clearly going to involve real physical effort.
