Our RIB slices through Trollfjorden towards Svolvær, the scenic capital of the Lofoten Islands. Twelve of us instinctively lean left—as if we have some control over the heeling boat. The narrow fjord’s steep-sided, jagged mountains rise dramatically from the sea. The water swirling beneath me is a shade of blue I’ve never seen. Overhead, the sea eagles we met earlier turn back towards Raftsundet strait, realizing their midday snack is officially over. The trolls remain hidden.
As we get closer to the harbor, a stench hits me like a rogue wave. I look around. My face isn’t the only one scrunching in disgust. Our guide is watching. Is he smirking? The Brit behind me is the first to bite. “What’s that awful smell?” he asks. “Ahhhh,” Emil smiles and exhales slowly, deliberately. “That, my friend, is the smell… of money.”
Twelve heads turn in unison, baffled.
Where Are The Lofoten Islands?
I found the Lofoten Islands through my usual source of inspiration—Instagram. Those algorithms are eerily spot on, drawing me into little tiles of mesmerizing mountainscapes and fjords. I needed to know exactly where this magical place was and how soon I could get there.
The Lofoten Islands are in Northern Norway, I discovered, just inside the Arctic Circle.
Of course they are.
Factually speaking, the Lofoten Islands are an archipelago of seven main islands bisected by glacial fjords. By the numbers, they are about 100 miles long, over 3 billion years old, and have roughly 25,000 residents. The Midnight Sun reigns from late May to mid-July. Intriguing facts, Wikipedia, but I don’t need them to inspire my trip—Instagram beat you to it.
The Scandinavia Travel Boom
Scandinavia is on the cusp of a travel boom, partially as a reaction to the wildfires and raging heat from which the rest of Europe suffers. Some travelers are looking for more temperate climes. Others are seeking roads, or in this case, fjords less traveled—a response to overtourism plaguing countries like Italy, Spain, and Greece.
Nordic countries saw a surge in tourism last year, with Finland, Denmark, Sweden, and Norway reporting a record-breaking number of visitors. In Norway alone, nearly 17 million hotel nights were booked—a 3% increase from the previous year. Those numbers are expected to rise as more intrepid travelers view Scandinavia as the antidote to mainland Europe’s woes. But, the Lofoten Islands are remote even by Scandinavian standards.
It’s worth noting the emphasis on destinations yet to grace the covers of Travel+Leisure and Condé Nast Traveler. Travelers want bragging rights, to get to destinations first. If Scandinavia is the next travel hot spot, I want to get there first, too. I book my flights and ferries. Thank you, Meta. I’m on my way.
The Fish That Put Lofoten On The Map
“That smell is stockfish,” Emil continues. “Stockfish is Norway’s most important export—and has been for centuries. To us, the smell of drying cod is considered the smell of money.”
The Tørrfisk industry dates back to the Viking era. Tørrfisk (aka stockfish, or dried cod) was so lucrative that it lured over 30,000 fishermen to northern Norway each winter. Fishermen who endured the Arctic’s extreme and harrowing conditions to provide for their families back home.
Once caught, the codfish, with their wiry whiskers and mouths agape, are placed on large pyramid-shaped wooden racks called fiskjehell. Norwegian winters are windy and well below freezing, thus creating a natural preservation system for the fish to dry without rotting.
Fiskjehells are still used in the Lofoten Islands and can be seen (and detected sight unseen) in many seaside villages—a monument to the dedicated fishermen who endured Lofoten’s long, dark winters.
Stockfish’s Place on the Global Table
The smell of stockfish also reminds us of Lofoten’s importance in commercial fishing. Of all the European nations that import dried cod from Norway, Italy is the largest. Stockfish is the central ingredient in their famous dish, Stoccafisso Accomodato (stockfish stew). It’s also a staple of Nigerian cuisine, often used for stews and soups.
Stockfish adorns the menus of Lofoten restaurants, from fine dining at the Kitchen at the End of the World to Svinøya Rorbuer’s humble restaurant, Børsen. Travelers can experience the fish that built Lofoten with dishes like Tørrfisk Royal, cod stew with carrots, egg, butter, and bacon, and stockfish filleted with baked leeks, wild mushrooms, and kale.
The curious Brit quips, “I don’t see any fish, only empty racks.” Emil is ready. “The fish hang for three to four months,” he explains. “By May, about six million tons of cod hang in hjells, ready to be shipped. But, even when the racks are empty, the smell lingers.” Satisfied, the Brit settles.
The Fisherman’s Wife
Emil cuts the motor, and the silence is welcome. We’ve been careening around the fjord, feeding sea eagles and troll-hunting for hours. That’s when I see her. Standing poised and strong against the wind on a rocky promontory, she clutches a shawl around her neck with one hand and waves longingly with the other.
“That’s Fiskerkona,” Emil says, reading my mind. “The Fisherman’s Wife. She represents the resilience of the women left behind to raise families during their husband’s long absences. Many would never see their spouses again.” This poignant statue quiets the group—even the inquisitive Brit.
Turning Tradition into Luxury
Thousands of fishermen traveled north each winter to hunt for Norway’s prized fish. They lived in rorbuer, traditional stilted, wooden huts. In Norwegian, ‘ror’ means row, and ‘bu’ means small house. Up to 12 fishermen shared each rorbu. Rorbuer were sheltered from the elements and divided into two parts, one for sleeping and one for gear. The ceilings were low, and the windows were small and inefficient. They had basic kitchenettes and uncomfortable beds. But, they provided what mattered most—direct and immediate access to their fishing boats.
These seaside cabins, many restored to their original red and yellow colors, have been retrofitted as tourist accommodations. Some, however, are retrofitted better than others. Rorbuer are an integral part of Lofoten’s history, giving visitors a chance to imagine life within the same four walls as Nordic fishermen, albeit in some cases, on 600-thread-count sheets, with rain showers and Nespresso machines.
Turning tradition into luxury is hard work. Not as hard as fishing for cod in the Arctic, but hard nonetheless. Although updated with modern conveniences and creature comforts, some rorbuer lack the sophisticated amenities often associated with high-end luxury. Others have found an idyllic balance, elevating the rorbu by adding soft, plush duvets, Bluetooth speakers, and bespoke toiletries while keeping the cabins’ historical integrity intact.
That said, rorbuer accommodations are in such high demand that some were fully booked as early as February for this coming summer. These rorbuer create a source of income beyond stockfish—attracting the kind of money that looks, feels, and smells like actual money.
The End Of The Road in the Lofoten Islands
The Nusfjord Arctic Resort is tucked away at the end of a road in a secluded valley that hovers over the sea. A Small Luxury Hotel of the World, Nusfjord has managed to preserve the look and feel of a typical fishing village so vividly that I could swear I traveled through time.
Many of Nusfjord’s rorbuer are several hundred years old. During the day, tourists come from near and far to explore the grounds, the general store, the bakery, the smithy, the boatshed, and the cod liver refinery.
They dine at the property’s on-site restaurant, Karoline, and gaze at the mountain views. They order pizza from a small wooden shack, grab a cold beer, and sit among the protected Black-Legged Kittiwakes (Krykka) that nest on the cliffs and windowsills. From 9am-5pm, Nusfjord swells with tourism.
But come 5:01pm, the property is reserved for guests only. Cue a mass exodus akin to heading west on Montauk Highway after Labor Day Weekend. It’s then that lucky Nusfjord guests peek out from their rorbu windows, making sure the coast is clear. They shuffle out in fuzzy slippers and fluffy robes one by one en route to the sauna.
Lofoten Island’s Endless Days
We’re getting closer to Svolvær’s docks. Our sea eagle safari will soon end. This high-speed RIB excursion has been a highlight of my trip. Not only because I saw so many of the promised eagles but also because of Emil’s insights into Lofoten’s history.
I look back at the scenery Instagram inspired me to come so far to admire. Hiking peaks like Reinebringen and Djevelporten provide an eagle-eye view of the islands that change with the sun, mist, and fog—each stunning in its own way. The mountains appear hand-painted and are set against layered clouds in a sky that never gets dark. Summer in Lofoten is an ongoing study in beauty. I could spend a lifetime of summers here and never tire of it.
The Set-Jetting Travel Trend
The Lofoten Islands aren’t the only Norwegian destination benefiting from a boost in tourism. Anyone who followed the black comedy Succession will recall the episode in which Shiv and Roman Roy visit Mattson’s homeland. The Roys stay at Juvet Landscape Hotel, a property entirely immersed in nature.
Juvet is located on the west coast of mainland Norway. It’s a great example of ‘set-jetting,’ the travel trend best described as wealthy Americans spending gobs of money in places like Thailand and Dubrovnik courtesy of TV shows like The White Lotus and Game of Thrones. These days, Juvet is as hard to get into as the Vatican on Easter Sunday. Damn you, Roman.
Achingly cinematic and designed with the environment as the star, Juvet’s seven minimalistic rooms include airy Birdhouses, glass-walled Landscape rooms, and the writer’s aerie, Scrivener’s Room. At Juvet, luxury is at its most understated, and the only tension lies in the ever-changing scenery.
Past, Meet Present
“Come back to Lofoten,” Emil calls out as we disembark. My heart sinks. The possibility of coming back seems unlikely. Who goes to the Arctic Circle twice? Hmmm. Maybe I do.
The sun is high in the sky. Since it won’t fully set, we have endless hours ahead of us to explore and relax. I peel off my dry suit and take off my goggles and hat. It’s 36 degrees, and I’m freezing. I think of the fishermen. I wouldn’t have made it past Fiskerkona.
Although Lofoten’s fishing industry remains deeply rooted in history, some things have changed. The boats have been modernized with GPS and sonar radar for tracking schools of fish. Safety has improved with the addition of anti-slip surfaces and hydraulic winches. The fishermen sleep in heated cabins and have cell phones to call their wives (whether they consider that an improvement is unclear.)
I turn towards Trollfjorden—contemplating those elusive trolls. I no longer detect the intrusive fishy smell. How quickly humans adapt—even to an unpleasant odor like dehydrated fish. Though surely not unpleasant to the residents of the Lofoten Islands—where the scent of dried cod symbolizes history, prosperity, and a tourist industry’s moment in the sun.
