Imagine you live on one of the most remote spots in Europe. You tend your sheep farm, as your parents before you. Then, one slippery winter day you slide off the steep road leading away from the wind blown bay where you manage to make a living.
You are paralysed waist down, after a miraculous survival. Your insurance company refuse to pay up. Everybody expect you to succumb, move to town, get the social services and benefits where the system wants you. So that is what you do, 'cause your name is not Ástþór Skúlason. He is a stayer. The toughest man I have ever met.
|The farm Melanes has the exceptional view of Europes longest bird cliff, towards Latrabjarg.|
|Àsthor slaugthering a ram.|
|No wonder it is called Raudisandir - Red Sands.|