These European Islands Have 24 Hours of Daylight in Summer—and Sit Just Above the Arctic Circle

Travel + Leisure

6 days ago

At some point on my second night in Norway, I stop checking my watch. Not out of laziness or an act of rebellion, but simply because it has stopped mattering.
It's 11 p.m. I am standing on Reinebringen, one of Norway's most famous peaks, gazing out across the fjord below. Golden light spills across the water, casting lengthy shadows and catching the wings of gulls circling beneath. In this moment, I feel something rare: a quiet, expansive joy I haven't found in any other place I've traveled. This is my first encounter with friluftsliv . View from Offersoykammen hiking trails in Lofoten, Nordland, Norway.
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Friluftsliv— loosely meaning 'open-air life'—is a Norwegian concept rooted in finding meaning and joy in being outdoors. First coined by playwright Henrik Ibsen in 1859, it's contagious: 77 percent of Norwegians get outdoors at least once a week, and a quarter do so daily. This is perhaps one reason why Norwegians are some of the happiest folks in the world.
Few places offer a better setting for exploring friluftsliv than the Lofoten Islands. North of the Arctic Circle, the seven main islands stretch across more than 100 miles of wild, pristine landscape. Mountains rise suddenly and everywhere, reflected perfectly in the still fjords and inlets beneath, as if replicating the Game of Thrones intro. They inescapably frame every village and road. The beaches, though, come as a surprise.
Haukland is a perfect example and a regular entrant on lists of the best beaches in Europe: sugar-white sand, royal blue water so clear it looks tropical—until you dip your toes in and realize you're at 68 degrees north—and a silence broken only by the waves and breeze.
A dog walker passes us with a cheery wave. 'Welcome to the Caribbean,' he says with a grin, barely breaking stride as we stand open-mouthed at the sweep of white sand and turquoise surf. His dog doesn't pause, either. Clearly, it's heard this line before.
For beginners, it's easiest to embrace friluftsliv on Lofoten between mid-May and mid-July, when the sun never sets but lingers on the horizon like a guest reluctant to leave the party. Locals make the most of it—kayakers get out on the water before breakfast and colleagues share office gossip on after-dinner hikes. Even the Norwegian royal family is frequently spotted on Lofoten's hiking trails. 'We were slightly nervous about overtaking them' a local guide tells us. 'I mean, is curtseying a requirement halfway up a mountain?'
In such lofty company, our challenge becomes how to fully embrace friluftsliv during our five days on Lofoten. The simple answer is to take advantage of the freedom of a world unruled by clocks and get outside at all hours of day and night. We start our day hiking Offersøykammen, our local hill; 10 hours later, we set out to climb Reinebringen, Lofoten's best-known trail. The 1,972 stone steps, installed by Sherpas to combat erosion, are brutal, but the summit view is breathtaking, in the most literal sense.
Both hikes offer relatively short (one- to 1.5-hour) ascents, steep drops, and full panoramas revealed only in the final steps. The sun hovers low on the horizon, softly illuminating distant ridgelines, while the sheer cliffs expose the villages below: churches, football pitches, and harbors, all teeming with friluftsliv -infused Norwegians. The author kayaking with Lofoten Arctic Adventures.
Travelers are catching on to the unlimited potential of 24-hour daylight and tour providers are adapting fast. Lofoten Arctic Adventures is the first tour company to offer midnight-sun kayaking on the islands. Our booking is rescheduled to mid-afternoon due to stormy weather, but in a land ungoverned by time, it hardly matters.
Run by a Belgian-Czech couple, Hannelore and Jan, the tour is rich with water-bound history, from edible seaweed clinging to the rocks (surprisingly spinachy) to the social hierarchy of house colors. The iconic red rorbuer (fishermen's cabins) seen all over Lofoten once housed the thousands of fishermen who flocked here each winter for cod season. The cabins' deep red hue is down to a mix of iron oxide and fish blood.
Wealthier residents marked their homes with costlier whites or yellows, a tradition that has continued for the past century. When interlopers deviate from these colors, it makes the newspapers.
To Hannelore, friluftsliv means the freedom to be outside every day—on foot, on the water, wherever the light leads. They run family hikes, camping trips, and kayaking tours, and say the shift in people is almost always the same. 'Once they stop checking their watches, they start smiling more' she tells me. 'It's like their hearts have slowed down.'
Jan nods, adding, 'Even the kids eventually stop asking what time it is. The parents usually thank us for that.'
After multiple activities and nursing sore calves, we decide to indulge friluftsliv in a less active way. We join a RIB safari from Svolvær harbor in search of sea eagles, racing across mirrored fjords in a black inflatable boat that feels more spy novel than sightseeing. The eagles, with a wing span approaching eight feet, can spot fish from a great height and swoop in, talons outstretched, to pick up their dinner. They circle above the cliffs, unbothered and precise, leaving everybody feeling thoroughly insignificant. Oldenvatnet lake seen from the Mount Hoven skylift.
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On our final evening, we take another late-night hike, choosing the over 1,200-foot Hoven, which towers above Lofoten Links, a contender for most scenic golf course in the world. The steady trail upwards is empty and, at the summit, we stand alone. Midnight comes and goes without fanfare—no darkness, no noise, just the soft crunch of boots on stone, the slow drift of gulls, and perhaps the odd sea eagle in gold-edged flight.
On another trip, this hour would have found me on a subway platform or nursing a beer in a dim bar. But here, somewhere between the sea and the sky, I've stumbled into a rare kind of freedom—the kind that doesn't care what time it is or where you're supposed to be. A plane from Widerøe airlines in the sky.
Reaching Lofoten is easiest by air or sea. The appealing town of Bodø (a 1.5-hour flight from Oslo) is the most convenient mainland base.
Air: Widerøe operates eight daily flights from Bodø to Svolvær (Lofoten's largest town), and a similar number to Leknes, a smaller central town. Flights also run once daily from Oslo and Tromsø to Svolvær. All routes take around 30 minutes.
Sea: Car ferries run up to four times daily (just over three hours) between Bodø and Moskenes at the southern tip of the archipelago. Book in advance or arrive at least two hours before departure for a walk-up fare. The views as you approach Lofoten are nothing short of spectacular. Foot passenger-only ferries also depart daily from Bodø to Svolvær (about 3.5 hours).
Car: A private car is by far the best way to explore. While rentals are available in Leknes and Svolvær, it's usually much cheaper to hire in Bodø and bring the vehicle over on the ferry.
Bus: Public buses are run by Reis Nordland. Download the app and view timetables. Just don't expect them to follow the midnight sun.
Svolvær has the widest range of accommodations on Lofoten. Scandic Svolvær on the harbor offers simple rooms with stellar views and breakfast included. Thon Hotel nearby gains high praise for its waterside restaurant and floating sauna.
Accommodations are cheaper outside Svolvær. We stayed in this delightful Airbnb close to Leknes in the center of the archipelago. It was quiet and comfortable, and within an hour's drive of all sun-chasing activities.
Modernized rorbuer have become a popular self-catering accommodations. Fjord-side Lofoten Rorbu Lodge, about 10 minutes from Leknes, is an excellent choice for larger groups, accommodating up to eight travelers.