I woke to the tent being really buffetted in the wind, and odd squalls of rain hammering down, but everything inside the tent looked fine. I’d pitched the outer tent low to stop wind getting under, and left the inner loose to reduce the chance of it touching the outer. So I laid in my sleeping bag listening to the noise (I have a new Alpkit Pipedream – I’m impressed, extra long, warm and packs up small), but eventually decided to get up. The facilities at the site are superb, all individual bathrooms and a nice kitchen, dining area and lounge – still empty except for one person who looked like he may have slept in there. I went back to the tent for porridge and coffee, although there is a kitchen – I now have too much meths so will need to cook as much as possible (until it fits in one bottle). The porch on the tent (Luxe Sil Hexpeak V4a) is big enough to cook in especially in dodgy weather (but make sure you have a big part of the door open!).

A few more tents surrounded me since last night and I must have been one of the first people off the ferry. The camper vans were parked mirror to mirror. A few people were starting to move about as I started packing up. In the rain I can drop the inner tent and can pack everything in the dry under the flysheet, with just six pegs and pole to drop the wet flysheet and the last to pack and put on the bike.

The weather was getting worse, gusty winds and periodic rain showers, but I only needed to find the bus station. The first place I stopped must have been the stop for the school bus, with about 10 small boys having a dance off, with one calling a style, and one being eliminated each round – even the Floss has reached here, but robot dance was the best. As entertaining as this was, I was clearly in the wrong place and the tourist information across the road directed me to the coach station. He also seemed keen for me to know it was OK to cycle through the tunnels (that I was trying to avoid by taking the bus, but I remained unconvinced). The bus station is right by the port where the ferry came in last night. I bought a ticket for both me and the bike to Skalabotnur for 60 Faroese Krona (£7 – same value as Danish, but using Faroe printed notes and Danish coins).

It was no problem getting the bike under the coach, all seemed very normal to the driver. The bus journey showed how windy and rainy it was, but the scenery was superb. Waterfalls being blown upwards, spray being blown of the fjords, it was quite wild. The two tunnels looked dangerous to me, with dim lighting, rock sides and just a single two way tunnel. I got dropped off at a remote bus stop out side the town, next to a petrol station. It was still raining but luckily there was a bus shelter to reload the bike. To delay my the inevitable departure further, the petrol station needed a visit. It was typical fare, a big packet of crisps, 3 bananas, 2 bottles of water and a whole packet of mint club bars. As it was still raining I had a coffee and a nice toasted sandwich, to the most sublime view (through a window).

The weather wasn’t going to improve any time soon so it was impossible to delay any more. The distances seemed manageable even in the rain, as I only had 20 km to lunch at Gjogv, and another 13km to the campsite.

Initially, along the main road it wasn’t too bad, once you are wet you are wet, and the light traffic was very good giving me loads of room. However, a few blasts of headwind, were almost enough to stop me dead – and proved a taster of things to come! That said the ride to Funningur was really nice, a switchback of a road with waterfalls pouring down, the wind was whipping the sea up into mini tornadoes, and no traffic at all.

Ironically, at Funningur the fun stopped! The road kicked uphill through a number of hairpins. Initially it was OK, with only a few gusts of wind and I could keep pedalling pretty easy. On one hairpin turn the wind really picked up and I could only cycle from passing place to passing place, and then recovering before the next onslaught of both gradient, wind and rain. Eventually, cycling became impossible and I had to push, at some points even pushing was impossible. Just keeping the bike on the ground need all my weight. It seems that the panniers and the centre of gravity conspired to create something that was impossible to handle in the wind. I knew there was a turn-off to the town with the campsite, as there was no way I’d go down into Gjogv and come back up here, and I couldn’t camp down there. Eventually, I reached the turn-off, and despite significant wishful thinking that it would be downhill, the road still climbed and the wind was getting fiercer. At this point I had a really strange experience, it seemed that my wobbly “sea legs”, the constant wind, being soaking, pretty cold and probably a lack of food, created a strange dizzying effect, that was soon remedied with a banana. At the same time the wind dropped for a bit, and I made one whole leg of the the climb in relative comfort. However at the next hairpin, I was hit with full force, even walking with the bike I had to keep the brakes on otherwise it would have been blown away. I did wonder a few times if I could keep this up, but just at the right moment the summit appeared, and what looked like a bus shelter! It wasn’t a bus shelter, it was some derelict building, but was open, dry and out of the wind – it may have been a refuge. I started on the crisps, a few clubs and a banana – and was ready to go (before I got too cold, it would have been so easy to stay!). I also checked out the location of the Eiði campsite, and was disappointed to see it was about 1km out of town, and right on the coast!

I managed to cycle down into Eiði, slowly as the gusts made the bike very inconsistent, and soon got into the town. I was greeted by a bus reversing up the narrow road, and the cause soon became clear – there was a funeral in the church and the whole area was double and triple parked. I found another bus shelter, and watched as all the congregation left, and I contemplated the last kilometre to the site, and the thought of putting a tent up. Having kept the bike vertical for the whole time, I was blown off it about 100 metres short of the campsite, where the road crosses the end of the lake, it was a complete funnel for the wind – and concentrated all the wind onto the campsite – not a good omen. The site turned out to be an AstroTurf sports pitch, not good for tents! I parked up under the canopy of the clubhouse, there was one soaked and partially collapsed tent behind the building, taking the full onslaught of the wind. I didn’t fancy pitching there but there was little choice. It was only 2pm, and had loads of time, so I sat in the kitchen while I pondered and ate. The toilets were in the home/away football changing rooms, which were heated and had clothes lines. It said to pay in the box upstairs. After sitting in a cramped kitchen downstairs, I went upstairs and found the honesty box, together with a very comfortable living space, and fellow campers. A couple from Denmark (he was originally from Doncaster), and a young guy from Germany – who’s tent I had seen (and had now taken down). It was pretty clear to me that I wasn’t going to put my tent up (I had one attempt fighting the wind and fabric – and then my glasses got blown off, luckily after a mild panic I found them and gave in).

We all chilled out for the afternoon, I got some good hints on where to go in Iceland, and deep discussions around whether Scottish sea monsters were real – obviously they are.

I cooked a basic dinner, as I hadn’t been shopping since Hirtshals, and waited to see who would suggest what/where for sleeping (a Finnish couple with backpacks came in and started to dry everything off), so there were four of us vying for one sofa, as the Danes had a camper van. There were plenty of good options, all better than camping.

Big question is tomorrow, the weather forecast doesn’t look better until Wednesday, I could cycle out (all low level), or bus – let’s see.