The talent group in Famará

Machine-translated from Faroese and not yet reviewed. Read the original.

Perhaps the headline should have read “The talent group in Porkeri” or “The talent group at Jóansøka”, but ever since Jóhan í Kollafirði became Jóhan í Famará, Famará has become the Faroe Islands’ cult place no. 1, and when we visited the farm, the choice of headline was obvious. More about that later.

Now, a little under two weeks before departing for VU-spelen and the biggest challenge of the year, the talent group went on its last training camp. It was also the best-attended training camp so far. The two Hvirlan sprinters, Rúni Jacobsen and Tummas Napoleon Arge, came along for the first time. There were 21 of us heading south on the Smyril on Friday evening. We had hired the school in Porkeri, where the facilities were excellent for cooking, sleeping and training alike.

Nothing in particular was on the programme on Friday evening. It was already late when we arrived, and the rest of the evening was spent on free play in the school’s sports hall. The next morning was the Jóansøka Run, in which seven of our group were taking part. The others were to walk from Porkeri to Vágur, where the race was held around Vatnið.

The running results were good. Einar and Regin finished 2nd and 3rd among the men. Bjørk won the women’s race. Sára won Girls 17, Katharina won Girls 13, Teitur won Boys 17, and Debes, who was along as a leader, finished 3rd among the veterans. The full results from the Jóansøka Run will follow here on the site later.

Then it was back to the school for a big cold buffet with hot meatballs, eggs and more. The food was digested down by the rowing area, but at 17:30 it was serious again. Circuit training in the sports hall. “Gutti’s” sound system was running at full blast, and so was everyone else – nobody held back (well, perhaps some of the leaders, who are nonetheless still dying of muscle soreness). The lads got so hot that they saw no other option than to throw themselves into the sea, just to get some decent cooling down after the session.

Helgi, Regin, Øssur, Teitur, Steingrímur, Tórur, Tummas Nap. and Rúni try to flex as best they can after a cold round in the sea.

I’ve got arms of steel, but has anyone seen my javelin?

Sára, Karin and Katharina just got their toes wet.

Karin, Katharina, Sára and Marita.

Then it was hot showers, hot chicken wings with hot potato wedges, and the Euros on the big screen. Debes, who was along as a leader for the first time, is a fellow who loves his food, and he made sure we also got dessert to go with the football match between Spain and France.

Hans, Helgi and Teitur were very handy with the vegetable knives.

No fruit salad without vanilla custard. With glowing eyes Bjørk slices open the vanilla pods, while Elsa whisks ferociously.

It tasted good and went down well. Afterwards some went for a trip to the festival grounds in Vágur, while others went to the hall and yet others took it easy. Bedtime was at midnight, but there was no peace until after 1:00. And sleep turned out to be broken. At half past three, hard rock blared from the speakers into the dormitories, while the din of pans and pot lids made the Icelandic protest marches look like a funeral. This was a rude awakening with a flourish.

Heavy with sleep and bewildered, they were driven out of the door in the middle of the night and squeezed into the cars. The route led to the old boathouses in Vágur. Someone had spotted the life jackets in the car, and now everyone thought they were going out on Scorpion – the Suðuroy folk’s fast rubber boat. But not so. When the boathouse doors opened, there stood a 108-year-old pilot-whaling boat – the 10-man boat Sildberin. So it was time to haul, launch and crew. The first 10 rowed the boat out along the fjord to the boat harbour on the south side of the fjord. The others were to walk around the fjord, where they would then swap over.

Hans and Regin sat on the thwart.

Perhaps the rowing was not the prettiest the people of Suðuroy have ever seen. At any rate, someone must have thought there were drunk men out on the fjord in a stolen boat, because soon two police cars could be seen, and the men in black were hanging halfway out of the windows with their binoculars. Gutti managed, however, to explain to them that all was in order and that the cox was one of the finest seamen.

We managed to swap crews, but the boat was taking on a lot of water. The cox, who was also the photographer, had to bail as best he could, and so got no picture of the second crew. That perhaps doesn’t matter much, since the rowing there was rather so-so. For a moment I was afraid the police would come back when they saw the commotion. Despite the very low tide, hauling the boat back into the boathouse went well. Half a cocoa “Sunkist” carton each, and then off on foot into the hills. What now?

On foot it went, straight up into the valley….

Upwards and upwards. When would this end? Where would we end up? Once right at the top, you could see far west out to sea. A large gorge with a headland also emerged from the fog. And down on the flat ground, some red houses could be seen, surrounded by a cowshed, a drying shed and outbuildings. Further down, someone noticed a familiar sign. Something they knew from YouTube. Yes indeed, this is Famará. Famará. Where the entertaining Jóhan í Famará (formerly Jóhan í Kollafirði) makes his programmes, which can be heard on ÚF every Friday. And the many popular clips that are also on YouTube.

Gutti and Debes in front of the farm in Famará. The picture shows all the buildings belonging to the farm.

Would Jóhan be at home? Would we be standing laughing for hours on this blessed morning? No. Jóhan í Famará was not in Famará. He was at a wedding north of the fjord. But the evening before we had arranged with the young man on the farm that we could come and have breakfast at their place. And so we did. Rúni, as the man was called, was very friendly and was good at telling us about the farm and the animals. It was really interesting. And the animals were not like other animals. I sat down quietly in the farmyard for a moment. The dog Prince burrowed his way under my arm. A young gander stood on my knee pecking at my laces while the hens walked across my legs. No, these animals were not afraid of people!

Bjørk tries to make contact with the dog Prince, while Øssur tries to get in touch with the hens. Neither is having much luck, even though the support from the others looks considerable.

After breakfast we went to fetch the other two cars in Vágur, and then came back for the whole group. But first a group photo had to be taken. Rúni was kind enough to take it.

Rúni, Tumas Nap, Teitur Gog Gog, Helgi, Tórur, Hans, Bjørk, Gutti, Regin Doglover, Hallur, Øssur, Debes, Marita, Karin, Marnar, Sára, Elsa, Katharina, Steingrímur, Einar and Tinna

The last stretch of road down to Famará is in such bad shape that we left the cars a few hundred metres higher up. On the way up to the cars, a shout goes up. Our good friend Rúni is missing his dog. Prince has become so fond of us that he has followed us all the way. There is nothing for Rúni to do but come all the way up to fetch his dog.

Strong bonds of friendship were formed in Famará. These two became almost too good friends. Øssur the dog whisperer in action.

Back at base, most were very tired and got into their sleeping bags. Some, however, played in the sports hall for a while first. At 13:00 everyone slowly started to get up, and at 14:00 the first were already out on a long run. The others didn’t get off so lightly, though.

The sports hall was very handy – both for play and for training. Here, the warm-up is on the programme.

Debes cracked the whip first in the hall, where they ran max sprints with the wall as a brake. Then it was outside for short sprints on the slope by the school, and finally onto the field for strength runs and core exercises.

The slope outside the school was well suited to hill sprints. Here it is Tummas Napoleon who comes flying up it.

After training it was a matter of getting into the shower as fast as possible. The Smyril doesn’t wait and time was tight. With only three cars, Helgi had to drive to Krambatangi twice. But everything went well and everyone arrived in time. Hunger was setting in again, and the plan was that we would all eat the dish of the day together on board. But there was no dish of the day. Put simply, there was only grilled chicken with chips, or hot dogs.

Magni Mohr was once on a 3-2 programme where he loudly criticised the menu on board the Smyril, which many sports people travel on. These sports people are usually in a hurry and therefore want to eat on board. Surely it must somehow be possible to have a better menu than the current one, which, to put it mildly, is exceptionally poor. Forgive me this heartfelt grumble.

Anyway. The Smyril sailed into Tórshavn harbour, and a good training camp had come to an end. All that remains is to fine-tune form over the last few days before leaving for Gothenburg. Thank you to all of you who made this weekend unforgettable.

Debes was along as a leader for the first time. A nice, sociable and pleasant lad, an excellent cook who loves his food, and a capable coach. A real catch for the talent group – hopefully he’ll do another stint.