I won the Faroe Islands volunteer tourism lottery — here's how I got on

And, after my number finally came up, I had the opportunity to travel north to participate in what you could call a hybrid holiday, for the times we live in.

One of the most dynamic tourism initiatives to emerge in recent times in my book, the Closed For Maintenance campaign launched five years ago as a strategy for the Faroe Islands to swap out the issue of over-tourism with regenerative tourism. Much like its neighbour Iceland, the Faroes had metamorphosed from a niche destination as little as a decade ago to a trending travel spot in the Instagram era.

As the travel consumer’s search for the ever-more aesthetic getaway increased, the Faroes’ rugged appeal was clear: landscapes where waterfalls whoosh over cliff faces and sea stacks burst out of the Atlantic with cinematic majesty and where Tolkien-like villages of traditional grass-roofed homes offer the ultimate Airbnb goals.

This growing popularity put a strain on the Faroes’ delicate terrain and the country was eager not to make the same mistakes as Iceland, where a surge to that country’s star attractions had diluted their appeal and sustainability.

The upshot? The Faroes began mitigating the impact of tourist behaviour, from introducing a ban on flying drones at some of its top content creation hotspots to installing contactless payment turnstiles along some of the country’s most popular walks. This is a country which felt nature merited a paywall. As a step further, Closed For Maintenance aimed to reimagine tourist behaviour by inviting travellers to the Faroes to reverse the footprint, literally, of those who went before them.

I had attempted to win one of the campaign’s 80 volunteer spots two years previously — but without success. About 6,000 hopefuls from 100 countries enter the draw annually. It’s a long but not entirely remote shot. However, 2024’s lottery marked a different selection process in that, for the first time, 30 of the 80 winners would be cherry-picked based on relevant work experience; the remainder to be selected at random.

I noted in the short online application that I had some trail maintenance know-how from previous volunteering trips and, while I’m not sure if that was a factor, a few weeks later, I received the inbox news I’d been waiting for: “You’ve been selected,” in a dream subject line.

Once chosen, I had 48 hours to book my flight to the Faroe Islands. Flights are the only expense applicants are required to pony up for the experience. However, a 25% voucher is offered for the country’s national carrier Atlantic Airways (they fly via the likes of Edinburgh or Copenhagen).

So a few hundred euro and four months later, I took off to the Faroes last May, where the country’s ethereal coastlines and stubbornly snow-dusted peaks revealed themselves through the clouds. This may be a tiny country but the drama unfolds before you land.

Touching down at the country’s Vágar airport, a flurry of activity awaited our fleet of arrivals, from a merry troop of welcome representatives, bedecked in Faroese sweaters, to a Swiss news crew who had flown in to cover the story.

First up, our group is bussed to the nearby village of Bøur, where we pull up a pew in the village church for a welcome orientation from our hosts, Visit Faroe Islands. Then, there’s the matter of work permit distribution (the Faroes are an autonomous territory of the Kingdom of Denmark so, like Greenland, are not in the EU), followed by a delicious fish soup lunch and a visit to a pop-up used Faroese sweater market.

Closed For Maintenance projects are dispersed in eight locations across the archipelago and vary from restoring wetlands in order to increase carbon storage to fencing protected habitats from grazing sheep.

Groups are split by colour and I’m designated to the brown team (with the beanie hat to prove it), which meant I’d one final cathartic journey to make. I am ferried off to Nólsoy, a bright island (population of 230) known for being an artsy retreat from the big town life of the capital Tórshavn (population of 24,000) — it’s all relative in the Faroes. Islander Anja Hartmann Wardum, our project leader, welcomes us at the pier and, together with my six international and six Faroese comrades, we would be rehabilitating the island’s main hiking trail towards its scenic lighthouse.

For three days, we work on our project, set along a lofty mountain trail backdropped by breathtaking coastal views spanning across the sound. Our two foremen, locals Nicolaj and Svein, are charismatic, bearded gents with a background in carpentry, boat-building, and amateur dramatics. They’re never short of a local legend, a shot of herbal liquor, or a dry Faroese joke as we work. “Did you hear it’s going to be 19 degrees this weekend?” is a personal favourite. “Ten on Saturday on nine on Sunday.”

The labour itself is tasked to all experience levels, from clearing water gullies to basic masonry. I was content to be a materials gopher, seeking the most perfect or imperfect rocks across the hillsides to reinforce the trail and walls — a task not dissimilar to tile shopping but in the most spectacular, open-air setting. Indeed, in those moments of soaking in the surroundings, it’s only natural to feel a familiarity with the Faroese terrain; these boggy, boreal grasslands, tightly sheared by mountain sheep, are redolent of the coasts of Mayo or Donegal. As the crow flies the Faroes are, in fact, as close to Tory Island as they are to London, so it’s little wonder they feel a little like home.

Off the clock, island life in Nólsoy is idyllic, serene, and blissfully chilled; the whirr of an electric Volvo or two about the only disruption to the languid soundtrack. It’s seriously fun too thanks to our quickly bonded team. We all share a small house in the village, and personal boundaries are swiftly upended from sharing bathrooms, bedrooms, and that workspace on a mountain ridge together.

Days typically start (and end) with a bracing sea plunge, while evenings offer a chance to kick back, sauna, and relax. One evening is fish and chips night at Maggie’s, Nólsoy’s landmark cafe-bar where owner and national musical legend Terji Rasmussen performs a series of national classics between pulling pints. The next, we enjoy the Faroese custom of heimablídni (home hospitality), where local Maud Wang Hansen hosts us for a long table of delicious Faroese cooking, even if the traditional whale blubber is a hard no. 

Following three days of back-testing but rewarding graft, our trail target was reached, our trail mission was complete, and it was time to bid farvæl to Nólsoy. However, no good volunteerism deed goes unrewarded in the Faroes and our efforts would culminate with a goodbye bash in Tórshavn hosted by Visit Faroe Islands. 

So here, in one of the city’s craft breweries, all groups, from red to rust and blue to brown, regathered to deliver their project reports before celebrating with beer, barbecues, and music. The highlight was joining our hosts for a Faroese long dance where scores of locals in native dress chanted and side-stepped through countless rousing stanzas of a traditional seafaring ballad.

Perhaps this, I pondered, is the sense of belonging American tourists feel in Johnnie Fox’s pub during a rendition of Riverdance. I couldn’t help but feel an emotional connection with this not-too-distant land, as I stood arm-in-arm with my comrades, now friends, as they danced and sang their hearts out in their native, mellifluous tongue. 

No doubt, I’d be back again to this soulful home from home. Perhaps to admire my trail handiwork or to head back to visit Nølsoy’s Lighthouse. We were so busy working, we didn’t make it to the end of the trail. Maybe that’s the hallmark of the best tourism experience of all.

escape notes

The next Closed For Maintenance lottery opens from January 16 to 18, 2025, with the next campaign taking place from May 1 to 3.

See visitfaroeislands.com for more.