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Today I had a lie-in, and had only just finished breakfast when I had a knock at the door from my landlady (who lives upstairs). She told me that there were whales in the fjord. In the Faroes, this means “grindadráp” – pilot whale killing – is imminent. It’s much the most controversial activity here so I immediately headed out to witness it. Although from the apartment I could see a few leaping around in the water, by the time I got to the far side there were about 50 carcasses in the pink stained shallows of the black gravel beach. There was quite a crowd of locals of all ages watching (see extra - which does show some blood and carcases). Whilst I respect traditions, the meat is eaten, and there's no conservation argument against killing pilot whales - the Faroese take less than a thousand each year, and there are 800,000 in the North Atlantic - I found that the scale indicated an element of sadism.

Afterwards, I recycled 15 cans and bottles at the alcohol shop, exchanging the ticket from the machine for 30 krone (£3.50) in cash at the till. I'd already spotted a "17 ns hálvmaraton" marker on the street, and when I got back I discovered that the Klaksvík half marathon would start at 14:00. Curious mainly about the course - since there's only about 16km of main road between tunnels here - I went down to the start. At registration I asked, and was told that they run four 5.25km laps. I knew that I couldn't enter on the day - not that I am in condition to run a half marathon at my natural running pace - but was invited to join the informal one-lap event. "You can walk at the back". That was never going to happen, and after I let the race come under the start banner, I joined it and worked my way through the field until I found runners at my pace. I could feel the fatigue of yesterday in my legs, and I got very warm - even if it was only 11°C - so was glad to stop after one lap. Indeed, I'd have been bored silly if I'd continued, as the "lap" was out 1km on one side of the fjord and back, then out 1.5km on the other side and back.  

Back in the apartment, I cooled off, showered, and had a chat with A and daughter L. Then I cooked and ate, before leaving for the Klaksvíkar Ítróttarfelag (KÍ) vs 07 Vestur Sørvágur game (see extra - where Vestur's centre-back 24 is as big as he looks!). As I arrived, I was hailed in Faroese, and asked if I'd been running today: it was the race photographer. Hence I had a good chat about the race, KÍ, and the Faroes. In the game, KÍ were already on top when, after 20 minutes, a Vestur player objected to being yellow-carded, grabbed the referee's arm to remonstrate, so was sent off. In such cases, the team with 10 men often plays purely defensively, and KÍ systematically failed to break through for almost an hour. The goal finally came when a speculative shot by a defender from outside the penalty area took a big deflection. A second followed 15 minutes later when another long-range shot was headed by (or hit the head of) Páll Klettskarð, and flew into the net. The local fans seemed satisfied at last, and KÍ move to second in the league, level on points with Havnar Bóltfelag, who have a game in hand.

My Faroese vocabulary now registers that "mál" is both "finish" and "goal", as it's on the start/finish banner of the race, and is flashed up on the scoreboard (as "máál" - I presume to be gooal!) when KÍ score.