The slow boat to Iceland

I´m quite excited to be back aboard the Norrona, it has come from Hanstholm, stopped in Bergen, Lerwick and now here in Torshavn on the Faroes (Torshavn means "Thor´s Harbour" just in case we forget that we are in Nordicsville, culturally the whole area that I am exploring Iceland, Greenland and the Faroes is known as West Norden.)

I managed to get my bike on the boat without paying the hefty excess and parked it next to 10 other fully laden touring bicycles, all with multicoloured panniers adorning their frames. I´ve not seen fellow touring bikers since I started this trip so I am a bit shocked and somewhat annoyed, as I was getting used to the idea that I was the only one mad enough to cycle up here this early in the season.

As I tie up the bike, a memory from childhood returns to me. I am listening to the Shipping News with my dad late one night and I hear for the first time the countries of Iceland and the Faroes, as shipping zones for the weather forecast. South East Iceland and the Faroes are usually the last 2 to be reported and always seemed to be at the high end of the Beaufort Scale with stormy seas. I put a few extra turns on my rope, ensuring my trusty steed has a safe bed for the night.

I take my bag and go in search of my couchette in the bowels of the boat. As I descend deeper and deeper below the water line, I can hear and smell the engines. The door to my cabin is like those swing doors to a saloon in a Western movie, in side there are 9 bunk beds stacked to the roof in sets of three. I lie on mine and find that I cannot turn over on my side as the bed above me is too close. Also there are 3 people already asleep in their bunks at 6pm and the stink of cheap Vodka and beer is already strong. It is a 3 day voyage from Denmark and maybe these pour souls have had to drown their sorrows from being stuck down here every night. I am not happy about the sleeping arrangements and go to see if I can upgrade or at least pitch my tent on deck.

After a few beers myself (at over five quid a piece!) and a hearty meal in the restaurant, I make it down to my berth collect my stuff and head back up to the upper decks in search of somewhere more roomy to sleep.

I am now in the lounge, all is quiet and I have found a nest in the children's play pen in amongst the a load of plastic balls. You know those cages that kids jump around in, filled with thousands of multicoloured small plastic balls. It is so comfortable in here it is incredible. I had to crawl through a rubber castle gate small enough for a 5 year old, across a rope bridge, through the main castle, over a draw bridge and then descend a small slide (which I think I broke!) to get into the ocean of balls.

I had a fabulous nights sleep, glad I didn´t need a pee though as there was a jungle assault course to get over to get out.

The fog horn sounded at 8am, we had an hour before docking in Iceland. I crawled out of my Ball Heaven, much to the amusement of the other travellers eating their breakfast in the lounge, and went to untether my steed.

Iceland here I come.