A.D. 1979, twenty years old, I made my first trip abroad on my own. From Esbjerg in Denmark I took the ship M/S England to Torshavn on the Faroe Islands in the Atlantic Ocean between Scotland and Iceland. I spent some days in the Northernmost village of Vidareidi. Fog, fog , fog every day. One afternoon I decided to climb the mountain of Villingadalsfjall, 844 m above sea-level. As the mountain was at the end of the island I could orientate myself despite the fog. On my way up I met some German tourists on their way down. “Don’t go all the way up. You will not see anything from the top.” I continued though and reached the top. They were right. You couldn’t see anything and it was all silent. A strange feeling. Then suddenly most of the clouds sank , and you could see other mountains and Islands! I lifted my Minolta SRT-101b with a Tokina 135 mm and took this picure, a snapshot really. If I was aware of the bird or not I cannot remember, but I will never take a photo like this again. Look at the bird and the position of the wings and its flying direction!