The Faroes were reputedly discovered by the Sixth Century Irish Monk St Brendan who also, according to legend, discovered America in a large leather curragh. Not for him a comfortable cruise and afternoon tea. He named one island the Paradise of Birds and another the Isle of Sheep, which also indicates others had discovered the islands before him, unless these were the legendary aquatic sheep of Atlantis.
The Norse settled the islands in the C9th – C10th and introduced Christianity in 1000 AD. They have been successively ruled by Norway and Denmark, and occupied by Britain in World War II after Germany invaded Denmark. From that point on the Faroese developed a taste for chocolate and the semi-independence that British occupation had allowed. In 1948 this was recognised with the Home Rule Act of the Faroe Islands, which gave them a large degree of self-rule within the kingdom of Denmark.
One Faroese boasted to me that they were as large as France but with just 1% of its land, the rest consisting of ocean. Ninety percent of its exports consist of fish, and they keep Europe well out of their fishing grounds. In itself, this illustrates the degree of autonomy the Faroes enjoy; Denmark is part of the EU but not the Faroe Islands. They know full well they would lose all their fish if they were.
Our first port of call was Kirkjubør, a tiny settlement but with some significant remains.
Saint Olav’s Church in Kirkjubør on the island of Stremoy is C12th and the oldest church in the Faroes.
Next to it are the C14th ruins of St Magnus Cathedral abandoned and left to decay after the Reformation.
Kirkjubøargarøur or Yard of the Church and also known as King’s Farm dates back to the C11th and is possibly the oldest occupied wooden house in the world. It began as the Bishop’s residence and seminary, but since 1550 has been inhabited by the same family for seventeen generations.
The wood itself is a source of fascination since the Faroes are virtually treeless. One legend has it that it was built from driftwood, which to my mind is a bit of a stretch.
This table is special. A ship from Dundee was shipwrecked. All drowned but for one sailor who clung to this particular piece of timber for a night and day, eventually being washed up at Kirkjubør. Suffering from acute hypothermia, he was saved by the body heat of a local farmer who lay on top of him. (The case for the defence rests, M’Lud). The wood was salvaged along with the man and turned into this table. According to tradition, that same sailor returned many years later and the first thing he did was to hug the table in gratitude. Had to be prised away.
