It is my final full day here in the Faroes Island. I pick a random hike, wake up a little earlier than usual, and drive out of the capital and start heading up, up, up….
No one else is here at the trailhead. I feel as large as God, taking in the stunning landscape before me. God is as small as I as I ready myself for the trail. The weather is picture perfect. I’m literally in heaven as I get going.
I reach the top of mountain, and for a spell I just look outward in all directions, taking it all in. All my anxiety and fear, self loathing and hatred, pain and body aches, all of it just disappears. Have I died? It feels like I have.
Hiking along the ridgeline for a bit, and then the trail just ends. I could go back the way I came, or I could just free style it straight down the mountainside, akin to the sheep that have become my companions during my time here in the Faroes. I decide on the latter….
I slip a time or two, but it only heightens the experience, and the adrenaline rush pushes me to finish. As I get back to my car, I see that the beautiful morning sky is slowly changing, as a storm is blowing in from the North.
