Lofoten bothy
Sometimes, you’ve got to go that extra mile to find the thing you’re looking for. A trip to the Arctic Circle, anyone?
Trail treks to an awesome Arctic Circle retreat
My wife called it my ‘mid-life crisis moment’, but my plan to visit a bothy at the top of the world had been born out of passion and wanderlust rather than desperation and boredom – although, admittedly, she is right about me going bald. It all started when I watched a film called North of the Sun. Two eco-battling surfers spent an entire winter living on a magical beach on the Norwegian archipelago of Lofoten. The pair built a basic but amazing bothy using only what washed up on the beach – and the kicker was that this Nordic nook was only accessible via a breath-taking mountain hike.
When I asked the farmer we were staying with in Lofoten about Kvalvika beach, my question was met with surprise and then a wry smile. After the shock subsided, Johan realised we knew the secret of the mystical bothy – and he then offered up one piece of advice that was delivered more like an order: “Wear sturdy boots.” His warning would prove to be wise.
Kvalvika, often called Whale Beach, is a small bay of white sands and turquoise waves on the northern side of the Lofoten archipelago. It’s a location that only offers up its secret to those prepared to sweat for it. The walk isn’t the hardest in the world, but it isn’t a simple stroll either. Don’t worry if you take your time getting there, though, because waiting at the end of this adventure is the gold at the end of the rainbow – the bothy built from what the ocean gave back.
GOODBYE TO THE RAT RACE
Before I even started the trail with my walking buddy Al, there’d been considerable effort – not only in the research to plan the best route, but also to get to Lofoten in the first place. We waved goodbye to the stress and antisocial bustle of Stansted and arrived in Oslo, where the security staff smile rather than scowl. Another flight took us to the northern town of Boda and – again – more smiles, less corporate branding. After a third flight of the day (a 20 minute skip in a tiny propeller-powered plane) we touched down at what passes for Leknes airport on Lofoten:
essentially one small hall and two smiling staff. Leaving the flat fens of my Lincolnshire home and touching down amid the peaks and snow of Lofoten the same day is enough to confuse and twist the senses. This amazing archipelago is a hillwalkers Nirvana. The golden beaches lead straight into tall, jagged summits, and there are hundreds of trails to walk for every level of ability. You could spend a year here without seeing (and walking) all that is on offer and as a photographer it made me punch-drunk, filling up memory cards by the dozen. What makes Lofoten really special is the sheer number of peaks that are crammed onto the tiny islands – the highest of which is 3,809ft tall – and the fact that many of the mountains are still relatively unexplored.
With the car parked up, the hike to Kvalvika beach first took us through farmland, before a moderate rise up a well-marked trail, where a steady traverse was needed to cross over a small waterfall and onto the first plateau. This offered me a chance to catch my breath next to a tarn, its pure water still iced from the Arctic winter. As the climb continued, marked trails came and went like a dodgy mobile signal, although occasional dabs of red paint confirmed we were still heading the right direction. The first scramble only involved a 7m ascent, but it was a reality check that paradise can bite back – and I really didn’t want to suffer the embarrassment (or pay for) an emergency helicopter ride home. “Keep three points of contact. Now move, come on move!” I yelled to myself. Johan’s advice about the boots was already paying off. Now at a height of around 500m, grass turned to snow. Although the sun was shining hard, I kept having to remind myself that I was at 68 degrees north and well inside the Arctic Circle. On the drive over to the start point I’d stopped to take photos and had heard the other-worldly roar of an avalanche – a noise that hits a hillwalker in the solar plexus. Back on the mountain another distant roar brought on a wobble. A seed of doubt crept into my mind and I stopped in my tracks, wondering if I had the skills to take on such a walk in a location I’d never visited before and if I was in good enough shape to get to the route’s end. One too many tackles on the football pitch and far too many beers at full time had robbed me of flexibility, and in the steeper stretches I found myself using my camera tripod as a makeshift walking pole to help bear the load. I took a couple of deep breaths as the cool wind blew off the snowy plateau ahead of me, and this calmed my nerves as I hitched up the rucksack and got moving once more.
DOWN TO THE BEACH
A fork in the path appeared and gave me two choices: follow the last stretch of incline up to the summit of Ryten, the peak that looks down on Kvalvika, or head down to the beach via a steep but manageable descent.
With energy flagging and curiosity about the bothy boiling over, we prioritised the descent to the beach. Walking further, a glimmer of bright turquoise sea caught my eye and the sheer drop of the surrounding mountains, more Lord of the Rings than northern Europe, came into full view. And there – in all its glory – was the most untouched beach I’d ever seen. My pace instantly quickened and I began taking risks to speed up my descent. I wanted to be on that beach so bad. I slipped, but somehow got back up – and suddenly I was at sea-level, with the textured ripples of sand beneath my feet. I set up the tripod, but found myself strangely reluctant to slip back into photographer mode, instead just breathing in the air and telling myself “Enjoy the experience; next week you’ll be back in an airless office meeting room.” Warm soup was taken, and then it was time to explore the accommodation – the driftwood bothy built in between two huge boulders. I pulled open the door to the bothy, a circular creation that looked like it had belonged to Frodo in a previous life, and stepped inside the small shelter. Adventurers who had already visited this amazing place had left prayer flags to decorate the interior, and the odd provision for future inhabitants. All very basic; but who needs luxury when you can set up a roll mat and sleeping bag, and relax after racking up the miles? And, to crown the experience, stepping out of the bothy when the light faded, the clouds began to take on a green tinge and then... glow. For the first time in my life I was treated to nature’s greatest light show – the Aurora Borealis – and I stood in amazement till I lost all sense of time (long enough for frost to form on my tripod) as the lights danced in the sky above one of the world’s great secrets.
Next morning, after retracing the route to the car, the sun warmed my back and I pulled off the layers till I was down to a T-shirt, adrenaline still coursing through my veins at the adventure accomplished and a big tick against one of my bucket-list locations. I scrolled through the photos on my camera to make sure I hadn’t just dreamt about Kvalvika beach. One of hillwalking’s best-kept secrets? Maybe not for much longer. A magical adventure? Yes... for sure!