Fyrst í mai var Closed for Maintenance. Tað er Visit Faroe Islands, sum skipar fyri saman við kommunum og kunningarstovum kring landið.
Í Vestmanna var uppgávan at gera eina gøtu frá ovaru brúgv um Fossá og niðan til byrgingina hjá Ólavi á Heygum, sum var byrjanin til vatnorku í Føroyum. Nógv bygdafólk og ferðafólk hava stóra gleði av Fossá, og ikki minst børnini sum meir ella minni búgva í ánni alt summarið.
Átakið, har sjálvbodnir útlendingar og føroyingar koma saman at arbeiđa og bøta um ymisk viðurskifti úti í nátturuni, verður hildið á hvørjum ári. Í Vestmanna vóru tey sjálvbodnu kallað tað gráa toymið, og ein av luttakarunum, Jamie Anderson úr Bretlandi, gjørdi eina yrking um dagarnar í Vestmanna.
Yrkingin kann lesast niðanfyri myndirnar.
The Ballad of The Great Greys.
Through the mist they came
A mix of names.
Their hats all grey.
Fearless, our leader Friða marched us up the hill.
Her Spade dug into the ground she announced.
From here the path shall grow.
We gathered round, individuals, tools in hand.
Fed by those whose sheltered us
Kept us warm in this wild and green land.
Grey cliffs, Black Sand.
Kristina fed us cod and tales old.
Of beasts and myths and Storms that beat these mighty cliff’s
Nils with a face of oak, creased by smiles
Told stories of shipwrecked sailors
Cold and Bold
The weather to be feared, winds fierce and Shifty
As we reached for the factor 50
Dressed in wool,
watched by the sheep who gave it
we dig.
The waterfalls and water pools sing as we grabbed the tools.
Burning orange against the blue we launch the good ship Grey
The boulders, nipped our fingers as we loaded her full.
Ready for the voyage
Across the pool she went
water, mixed with wool.
The push and pull
As the piles of boulders grew.
This path, to this sacred place
A site dipped in Stories
The man who wanted to make lighting from water started here
the townsfolk laugh at Chief Hydro
As he Spoke of turning water
Into power.
But still he built his tower of Rocks and turbines
Now we honour this strine to him
with a path fit for a king
besides the long house where now, the blades Spin
Making the light bulbs Burn.
And these pools.
So important for the young warriors
This path will help them.
As they cone to learn the skills and joys of water.
We chance upon a group of them.
Black clad, they use our unfinished path to reach the training pools.
Their laughter and double Somersault’s into the blue makes the sweat on our foreheads cool.
And we smile to see the value in our work. We clink Mugs filled with beer
and the stream keeps Singing
as we rest in the Sun
filled with waffles and stories, us path warriors laugh as we work.
Bound closer by blisters
Friða leads us on
The evenings filled with Song
As we learn about each other
Swap tales of different places
Faces lit with laughter.
Burnt red by the wind, the Sun and the akavit.
Now a team
Tight Faroese knit.
The path, guided by Ruth is done
and its been trodden well
Sweaty warriors, we smell
of Work
and kindness
of hospitality
of fresh fish
and baked rolls
finished goals
Evening strolls
And happy Souls
This myth however does not end like rest
Those Faroese tales that end in death or dread
Eaten children, lost loves, sunken Ships
to the monster fed
This tales ends well
despite the smell
of happy faces
new learned places
Paths now made to historic and community
Spaces
We did not meet the beasts or monsters
only kindness, warmth and new found friendships.
The Great Grey clan is now forged in Stone.
As we each turn our eyes back home.
We all know that on the side of that stream
Is the path that was forged by the Great GreyTeam
