During this trip, I traveled to northern Norway, where the Lofoten Islands lie—a stunning and still somewhat hidden gem for those visiting the country. Few places in the world boast such breathtaking landscapes: majestic beaches, rugged mountains rising dramatically from the sea, friendly people, and colorful houses. With the kind of beautiful summer weather I had, I could hardly imagine a better place to spend my time.
To get to the Lofoten Islands, I had to take a ferry known as the „post ship.“ This line, the Hurtigruten, connects southern Norway with the far north. Originally used for transporting mail, goods, and food, it has become an important part of Norway’s tourism and is well worth experiencing. It’s also a practical way to explore the coastal regions. For me, it was simply a means to travel from Bodø to the Lofoten Islands.
The crossing was pleasantly calm, and I managed to avoid seasickness. From the moment we arrived at the small fishing village, I was able to enjoy every second.
On the way to the youth hostel, I noticed wooden racks scattered throughout the town. Thanks to several documentaries I had seen, I recognized them easily—they’re used for drying fish, turning them into stockfish, a well-known local delicacy.
The hostel was only a short walk away. Much to my delight, it was housed in one of the old fishing cabins, which gave it a warm, rustic charm. I was excited to check in and make myself at home.
It was the time of the midnight sun, which meant it never really got dark. There was daylight around the clock, which led to some strange sleeping patterns among the guests. Most people got up around noon and stayed active until the early hours of the morning. As a newcomer, I found this a bit odd at first.
One of the favorite pastimes at the hostel was fishing in the harbor and preparing the catch for dinner.
I decided to join one of these fishing trips—even though I had never fished before. To my great surprise, I actually caught something, even though I had no bait on the hook. It turned out to be a delicious and completely free meal.
Although I enjoyed my time at the hostel, I wanted to explore more of the Lofoten Islands. So I took a bus to a more remote area at the far end of the archipelago.
When I arrived, I found out the local hotel and campground had recently burned down. Luckily, the owner allowed me to pitch my tent anywhere on his land.
I chose a spot near the beach, although I was slightly worried about the strong winds. I trusted the quality of my tent, drove the stakes deep into the sandy ground, and hoped for the best. Thankfully, the tent held up well in the stormy weather.
I was lucky with the weather during my stay—plenty of sunshine, and the clouds cleared away early each morning. The region revealed itself in all its glory. One of the highlights was watching the midnight sun. From my tent, I had a perfect view of the sea, right where the sun would just touch the horizon before starting to rise again.
One night, I got up just before midnight to witness this natural wonder. As the sun approached the horizon, it suddenly began to rise again. It was truly magical—except for the icy wind that forced me back into my tent rather quickly.
Over the following days, I explored the nearby area and grew more and more enchanted with the stunning landscape. It was with a bit of a heavy heart that I decided to return to the hostel where my Lofoten adventure had begun.
While the bus ride there had been easy and comfortable, the return trip turned out to be more difficult—there were no buses running that day. I had no choice but to walk the entire way back.
I packed my things, shouldered my backpack, and set off. Early on, I was in for a surprise: I reached a bay where the sea cut deep into the land. Across the water, I could see the road I needed to continue on. Although the bay was only about 100 meters wide, I had to follow the road that wound all the way around it—no shortcuts. This detour alone made me realize why the journey that day would end up being nearly 30 kilometers long.
When I finally made it back to the hostel, it was full of new guests, most of whom had only recently arrived. They were still keeping a normal day-night routine and didn’t yet know how easy and rewarding it was to fish in the harbor.
A girl from South Africa got so excited about it that she wanted to try it right away. We climbed into one of the boats, rowed out into the harbor, dropped our lines—and caught absolutely nothing. I must admit, it was pretty frustrating.
Back at the hostel, we shared our misfortune with the others. A young guy from Belgium overheard us and suggested we rent a longline and row out to sea at high tide for better luck.
I asked the girl if she wanted to try again. She agreed, and we made plans to head out later that evening.
Around midnight, as the tide peaked, we set off. But we were immediately faced with a problem—the water had risen so high that the dock was completely submerged. Climbing into the boat without getting soaked turned into quite the balancing act.
We managed to row smoothly inside the harbor. But as soon as we reached the exit, the sea turned rough. We had to hold on tight just to stay in the boat.
We rowed to a point about 50 meters from the harbor. The girl began fishing while I kept rowing to keep us from drifting. But we were both so focused—she on fishing, me on rowing—that we didn’t notice we were slowly being pulled out to sea.
By the time we realized what was happening, the harbor was out of sight. We panicked and stopped fishing immediately. We looked around, trying to spot land, but it was barely visible. It dawned on us that we were in real trouble.
I wasn’t strong enough to row against the current alone, so she joined me. Each of us grabbed an oar and we started paddling together. But instead of getting closer to land, we drifted farther away.
I knew how dangerous the situation was but tried to stay calm—for her sake. She was clearly panicking, and I didn’t want to make it worse.
While we fought the waves, I wracked my brain for a way out. The only real option was to keep trying to row toward land, though I honestly didn’t have much hope. We were definitely stuck.
Then, in the distance, I saw a light. A fishing boat—coming closer. Soon it was within shouting distance. It turned out to be the hostel owner, who had anticipated something like this might happen.
Apparently, they had been watching us from the shore and realized early on that we were drifting into trouble. So he had jumped into his boat and come to rescue us.
Even though we were now safe and being towed back, our rescuer still wanted to show us what we had gotten ourselves into. He steered us right through the choppy water, and I felt like I was riding a wild horse trying to throw me off. But I didn’t care—I was just incredibly relieved.
Back on solid ground, I briefly considered kissing the earth beneath my feet, but the thought passed as quickly as it came.
That night and the following day, we got plenty of teasing from the other guests. Luckily, it was all in good humor, and I took it as such.
Even today, I sometimes wonder: if no one had come to get us, where would we have ended up? Greenland, maybe?