Kalsoy: The Island at the End of the Road

I caught the first bus of the day.

It was early, the light was still low, and the road wound through a series of narrow mountain tunnels cut straight through the rock — single-lane, barely lit, the kind of tunnels where you hold your breath a little even in a vehicle. At the far end of the island, the driver told me the only bus back wasn't until late afternoon. I had the whole day.

Kalsoy is one of the most remote places I have ever been to. A thin sliver of an island in the northern Faroe Islands, it feels like somewhere the world forgot to finish. And yet — somehow, inexplicably — there was a tiny Thai restaurant. I still think about that.

The Walk to the Lighthouse

A fairly long walk takes you to Kallur lighthouse, perched at the northern tip of the island above cliffs that drop straight into the North Atlantic. The views are extraordinary — the kind that make you stop mid-stride and just stand there for a moment.

This is also, in a loose sense, the final resting place of James Bond. The last scene of No Time to Die was filmed here — or rather, kinda filmed here. The grave of 007 sits at the edge of the world, overlooking the sea. It is a strange and quietly moving thing to stand in front of, even if you know it is fiction.

I had the rest of the day to myself after that. Hours of it.

The Tunnel

I made a decision that, in hindsight, I probably should not have made.

Between the village I was in and the next one along the island runs a narrow road tunnel — over a kilometre long, unlit, and very much in active use by lorries carrying aggregate for a new path being built to the lighthouse. I decided to walk through it.

It was one of the scariest things I have ever done.

Pitch black. No pavement. The sound of a lorry coming from the far end gives you maybe ten seconds of warning before the headlights fill the tunnel and the whole thing shakes. Each time, I pressed myself flat against the rock wall and waited. The vehicles passed close enough that I could feel the displaced air.

I do not recommend it. But I made it through.

The Seal Women

On the other side of the tunnel, I was welcomed by Kópakonan — the Seal Women.

The legend goes that seals shed their skins once a year and walk among humans as women for a single night. A man, seeing one of them, was so taken that he stole her skin and kept her for himself. She could never return to the sea. The statue stands at the water's edge, looking out — and there is something in her expression that stays with you.

The Long Wait

Then came the waiting.

I had several hours at a bus shelter, alone, with no real certainty the bus would stop at this particular village. I kept calling the request number. No answer. The afternoon stretched out. The wind came in off the water.

Eventually, the bus came.

I got on. I sat down. I looked out of the window as the island disappeared behind the tunnels, and I thought: that was one of the best days I have had in a long time.

That is what solo travel does, sometimes. It puts you somewhere completely outside your comfort zone — a pitch-black tunnel, a bus shelter at the edge of the world, a statue of a woman who lost the sea — and it turns out that is exactly where you needed to be.

— Louis