I got to introduce my wife to the Norway I love and complete the set: exploring in both the Arctic and Antarctic circles. We came during the midnight sun, whose light never left during our four nights in Northern Norway—north of Alaska.
I’m not a beach guy. The mountains own my soul. But I enjoy rocky waterfronts, and I keep finding more places where the mountains plunge with the sun into the sea. After only 10 hours in Norway’s Lofoten Islands, I already had made beautiful memories.
Lofoten Van Life paints each of their vans a different color and gives each of them a name. I’m standing in front of the vinyl lettering with our van’s name: Willy. As you can imagine, there were a lot of “That’s what she said” exclamations and other double entendres during our journeys from Svolvær to Å and all of our jaunts in between. Piloting this craft in the Arctic Circle made us laugh often and smile even more often.
Crystal said I made one of her dreams come true on the day we switched our Audi A3 out for this sitcom-episode-waiting-to-happen. The bigger upgrade was switching from my iTunes playlists to her Spotify ones after she exclaimed, “It’s amazing how utterly different our tastes of music are!” Chivalrous, I spared her from the recesses of my podcasts.
The sun set and rose during our four hours in Eggum. We got to the kayaking outfitters early, because I leave lots of time above what the GPS suggests for our diesel 1980’s Volkswagen Westfalia. Crystal brought—fabulous!—fashion to Lofoten. These boots, ladies, are what my wife wore for three hours of Arctic Circle kayaking.
I wanted a manual-transmission Audi and an automatic camper van. Fate chose a delectable plot twist. “Switch!” I wondered why a company (1) with seven colorful camping vans (2) in an social media culture that glorifies van life (3) on one of the most exclusive destinations in the world didn’t have pictures from Instagram influencers. This is why. I’d pay to see those yoga pants models try to get this bucking bronco from the parking lot to and through the roundabout. It took some significant practice for this stick-shift snob. After 32 years of driving manual transmissions (starting with a Nissan 510 when I was nine), I think this was my first experience where odd numbered gears were on the bottom.
Driving this beast has been my biggest adventure in Lofoten. We’ve traversed hours of one- and two-lane roads in the mountains and along the shore in a cranky Volkswagen Westfalia. The diesel engine with 235,000 miles on its odometer works fine; but the clutch barely grabs (even all the way to the floor), and the shifter throw is ten inches. First gear practically refuses to be used. Second gear resists but concedes after inappropriate levels of force. And this is the good van. (The red one we ordered was in the shop.) The contrast from a silky-smooth Audi to this piece of automotive history made us laugh. We embraced the adventure of it, and Crystal graciously didn’t remind me that I couldn’t use all of the words I used behind that wheel around Jesus.
Our kayaking guide joked at the start of our three-hour sea kayaking tour that these were called divorce kayaks. But we paddled through cold rain and North Sea gusts without an argument. Crystal gets wife points for embracing discomfort and battling exhaustion to explore islands 200km north of the Arctic Circle. It snowed on the mountains behind us while we were off-shore. Our guide said the wave conditions on the open water portion (not here behind one of the islands) were the highest on which they will take customers.
If you’ve surfed the Pacific, the Lofoten Islands offer you a similar surfing experience. If you don’t need coaching, they rent boards of multiple lengths, shapes, and volumes. I highly recommend Lofoten Surfsenter. Shannon is a fantastic coach. I got up on my first wave. I successfully rode both waves I attempted. And my buddies can tell you, I’m not a natural at this. (I skipped the second hour of the private lesson, exhausted after three hours of kayaking the day prior, 90 minutes of snorkeling that morning, and still not sleeping well in a land of 24-hour sunshine.
Neither Crystal nor I expected me to stand up on my first wave. So, she caught me at the end of the run. I need to tell you I was filled with wonder at this moment. For someone who hasn’t long boarded since a solitary lesson in Dominican Republic 15 years ago and who struggles to wakesurf without the rope, I felt surprise then elation. I’m so clumsy. I lack athletic prowess. But there I was, feet in the right position, weight properly distributed—riding a force of nature. I’d love to tell you this is because I’m awesome, but I think it was just a moment where God granted me a gift so I could be filled with wonder
Proof I was surfing real waves. That’s my South African instructor, Shannon, riding toward me with the pink jersey over his wetsuit. Lofoten Surfsenteris the northernmost surf school on the planet, snuggled with a mountain on either side, a farm field behind it, and a beach out front. I got to meet they who first surfed this cove—before there were any surf schools here. You’d think this would be cold, but the wetsuits keep you plenty warm. Even your face.
Shaka! I’ve kayaked on rivers banked with snow. Now I’ve surfed next to mountains with fresh Confectioner’s sugar on them. I love that we live at a moment in human history where all of this is possible, where the corners of the earth are easily reachable. We can now roam and play where millennia of humankind could only imagine.
This was my favorite underwater photo from my snorkeling trip. The water was so clear. I was amazed my phone could get a shot this vivid through its plastic case. Between you and me, kelp freaks me out. Weird, I know. But it can be stunningly beautiful.
In our last half hour of the snorkeling tour, we skimmed along walls where the rocky islands plunged under the surface. This was my favorite find on one such wall.
This is about as good of proof that I have that I took these pictures. You’d think this would be a frigid experience, but it wasn’t. In fact, the outfitter said they typically cap the tours to 60-70 minutes so that nobody gets cold. I was very much comfortable, though. I lost track of time, and the boat captain said we were down there 90 minutes. I had no idea. When the intern guide and I returned to the boat, the captain seemed puzzled. “You aren’t cold!?” I probably would’ve been, but we filled our mittens with hot water before splashing overboard. Under the dry suit was a thermal suit, my sweatshirt, and my surfing clothes—and 20 more pounds of fat than I was carrying a couple years ago.
These little guys swam around me at several parts of my snorkeling tour. I can’t imagine being animals that small in water this cold. Apparently, these are in the cod family, even though they don’t grow much bigger than this. Their big brothers are why the Lofoten Islands were originally settled. The Vikings found the warmer jet stream water and calmer winters as a good launching spot. Also, the island is home to lush, incredibly-flat fields.
Wonder leads me to worship, which leads me to gratitude. I feel incredibly fortunate for the gift of being in the right place at the right time—in human history, not just these serendipitous moment on vacation. Was it worth traveling 22 hours each way to stay in a land of ‘round-the-clock sunshine six time zones off our internal clock? If you asked me that when I was standing on the back deck of our AirBnB looking at this moment, the answer would be a resounding yes.
Hamnøy, like many places in the Lofoten Islands, made me exclaim, “Wow! Look at that!” Poor Crystal endured me pulling over, disconnecting the phone from our vehicle, jumping out, and snapping pictures that didn’t do the scenery justice. I endured not being able to pull over at some of the most epic roadside views of my life.
This picture of Flakstad Beach illustrates our 3.5 days in the Lofoten Islands. We often saw rain and blue-sky sunshine at the same time. Showers and clouds would blow through about every couple hours it seemed. They brought with them unseasonably cold winds. The forecast up until the morning we left Virginia showed highs in the 50’s and 60’s. Instead, we encountered snow and highs in the 40’s. This looks incredibly beautiful for just above freezing, doesn’t it?
It’s wild to stand on white sandy beaches and see mountains with snow on them on Memorial Day weeked. We didn’t have a beach at our cabin, but we luxuriated in that Caribbean collection of blue water in the foreground. The water was so clear when right up on it. Cold, too.
Crystal and I loved Nusfjord so much, we carved time out to visit it twice. It’s secluded. I don’t think there was ever more than a dozen cars’ worth of people there. This shot was from a rock just up from the parking lot.
Here’s the drone view of Nusfjord, our favorite village on the Lofoten Islands. Twice, my Spark drone went AWOL and flew out to sea. Thankfully, it eventually came back to me both times. Whew! But isn’t this place just magical!?
We sat here and just luxuriated in hot cocoa, watching the seagulls flutter and dive in the harbor. I wish we had enough time here to write and paint. Who couldn’t be creative in a place like this?
This is Reine (pronounced “RAY•nuh”). Most pictures of this place are far more epic—taken from atop Reinebringen, the mountain behind me as I took this picture. Neither of us had the energy (or the time) for a hike like that. Instead, I pulled over on a bridge for this shot before were ate lunch at a tiny restaurant in the harbor to the right.
Crystal liked Ramberg Beach better than Flakstad Beach. I liked that it’s boardwalk wasn’t filled with loud noises, sticky surfaces, and sweat-inducing heat. We came out of season. Apparently, this beach is lined with tents from the end of June through August. In Norway, everyone is allowed to camp in any public/undeveloped space.
As we drove away from the tiny surfing hamlet of Unstad, I looked back over my shoulder and apologized to Crystal. “Sorry. I’ve got to get this shot.”
On my way home from the the 2.5-hour trip to return our van, I was greeted by this roadside view.
This is another shot off our cabin’s deck but a much different vibe than the others I’ve posted. I love how weather can change the feel of a scene. I wish I could take more than a week off from my business at a time. I wish our vacations could be longer. I wish I could sit in moments like this for hours instead of minutes. That said, I am oh so grateful for these moments, even if they are tiring to chase—even if I have to work 17-hour shifts just to be able to leave. I work to have more moments like this, more opportunities for transcendence and catharsis, more pictures that in future years will transport me away from the daily grind.
This is the shortest town name in the world. Å surrounds the southern terminus of E10, the scenic 1- to 2-lane “highway” that connects many of the islands in the archipelago.
We never felt snow alight on us, but it sure was beautiful to watch it powder the peaks along the highway—adding texture to the crags and slopes.
I’m not sure what this gate was meant to keep out. It had no latch. It obliged with ease. Maybe the sheep just assume it doesn’t move—like how large elephants assume they can’t pull on their flimsy stakes because of attempts as babies. I wonder how many gates in my life I failed to try because I assumed I couldn’t open them. Maybe I associated them with past failures. But there’s beauty to be found behind opened gates. I, for one, need to try more things I’m not certain won’t fail.
I loved the location of our AirBnB cabin. Ours is the second from the end in the duplex in the foreground, though I think we were the only occupants of the whole group while we were there. Fiskerkona (“fisherman’s wife” in Norwegian) is tucked on a tiny peninsula in Vestvågøy less than 10 minutes from the airport, less than half an hour from the nearest beach, and within 42 miles/75 minutes of both ends of E10, the highway that connects many of the islands. I shot this with my drone—the last time I flew it in Norway.
We visited Norway’s Lofoten Islands between their two tourist seasons and loved having the place practically to ourselves. Our cabin was second in from the end unit in the foreground. If Ikea made whole cabins, we’re living in one.
Crystal and I both thought, “I could live here.” This was the downstairs living area, where we drank our fair share of hot cocoa. This place had heated floors and a sauna, though we never tried the latter. For those wary of staying in an AirBnB, I offer this counterpoint.
This picture of Eggum’s harbor is not remarkable other than when I took it: 1:37am Sunday morning—at sunrise. We had just finished a three-hour “midnight sun” kayaking trip.
These beautiful flowers grew wild along the road all over the Lofoten Islands. They grew between shoreline boulders and on steep banks, unaware of how much they stood out from the rocky slopes around them. They are beauty for beauty’s sake, designed to give those who see them hope and respite. At least what they were meant to say to me.
Up until this trip, when I thought, “Arctic Circle,” this is not what came to mind.
Despite 21 years together and 19 years of marriage, I was utterly shocked that Crystal would want to go to the Arctic Circle with me. Thankfully, there’s unlimited inspiration for her art there, and we get to extend hot cocoa season past Memorial Day.
