Alone in Lofoten: A solo trip that satisfies the soul

The Lofoten Islands are a 1,200-square-kilometre archipelago of glacial fjords, sharp peaks and secluded beaches nestled in the Norwegian Sea.Christina Palassio/Handout

It’s midnight and I’m pedalling alone down the road into Å – pronounced like the “ough” in “though” – along a craggy shoreline that almost glows in the soft, dewy light. The smell is of cod and the sea, and the sounds are of the rolling tide and men’s voices chatting in Norwegian. It feels like someone’s cranked the intensity knob on the landscape by 25 per cent.

The village of Å is perched on the southern tip of the Lofoten Islands, a 1,200-square-kilometre archipelago of glacial fjords, sharp peaks and secluded beaches nestled in the Norwegian Sea. At the 68th parallel, Lofoten is further north than Iqaluit, but the Gulf Stream turns the islands lush in summer and keeps temperatures around 0 C in winter.

I flew into the main city of Svolvaer on a turboprop a few days ago with two years of pandemic restlessness in my bones, my excitement rocketing as the landscape unfurled into view. Within an hour of landing, I was already heading back into the sky, this time on foot, climbing Fløya mountain’s 505 Djeveltrappa, or Devil’s Stairs, for a bird’s eye view of Svolvaer and its surroundings. Even my fear of heights couldn’t slow me down.

The view from Reinebringen gives stunning 360-degree looks of the archipelago.Christina Palassio/Handout

At the top, I sat on a rock a few metres away from three Spanish tourists goofing around with a selfie stick, a couple of ultramarathoners on a break from training and a hiker sitting on her own. Below us, colourful harbour buildings splayed out across the crystalline Norwegian Sea waters, surrounded on three sides by snow-capped peaks. After endless days in my Toronto condo with alternating views of the tower opposite mine or the screen in front of me, I could hardly believe the view. I settled into a solemn and solitary moment of just being there. Long inhale.

I’m a profligate solo traveller. Multiweek bike excursions, city hops, road trips, and group tours – I’ve done them solo and loved them all. Part of it is logistical: I tend towards active trips that require an adventure mindset and a couple weeks’ vacation time, which can be harder to coordinate a group around.

When I travel with family and friends, our trips are shaped by the experiences and companionship we share. I love stepping outside myself and seeing a place through someone else’s eyes. And I love the shared jokes, meals, and memories. My solo trips, on the other hand, are about experiencing as much as possible, and opening myself up to state of discovery and calm that’s harder to access with others around, and that leaves me more open to the place I’m in. In a unique and spectacular place like Lofoten, that feels like a particular gift, and I feel grateful to be there on my own.

You can go sea eagle spotting in the narrow and foreboding Trollfjord.Christina Palassio/Handout

Tourism operators and travel websites have been reporting a rise in solo travellers in recent years. A 2022 survey by MMGY Global Travel found that one in four Americans were considering a solo trip. And the tour operator G Adventures says they’ve seen a rise in solo bookings this year, especially among Canadian women. The reasons vary: people want to pursue an interest their partner or friends don’t share, they’re tacking on a few days’ vacation after a work trip, they need some space or a challenge.

Setting out solo can be intimidating: planning this trip, I worried about feeling isolated so far north. But the fear evaporated when I arrived. In spite of its location, Lofoten is a thriving four-season destination for adventurous travellers who come in for the abundance of activities, from hiking, climbing, and paddling to cycling and skiing. Think Iceland but greener and with a lower volume of tourists. Instead of feeling alone, I feel right in my element.

I’d originally planned to spend most of my time cycling from Å in the south to Fiskebøl in the north, but the more I learned how much there is to do, the more varied my itinerary became. Over the first few days, I climb Fløya, go sea eagle spotting in the narrow and foreboding Trollfjord, bike out to the quaint town of Henningsvaer for a taste of bacalao at the charming Kaffe Klantreen, kayak into the majestic Reine Fjord, relax in a floating sauna and learn about the 11,000 plus year Viking presence on the islands at the fascinating Viking Museum. It’s hard to believe that such a small and remote place can have so many unique and spectacular attractions.

The harbour in the main city of Svolvaer.Christina Palassio/Handout

The 24-hour sunlight makes everything seem possible: I want to try Arctic surfing at Unstad beach, visit the world’s most northern football pitch in Henningsvaer, ride the world’s northernmost mountain bike pump track in Harstad. I start looking at the cost of pushing back my flight. Flexibility – or the illusion of it – is another bonus of solo travel.

After a few days around Svolvaer, I head south to do some hiking. The views along the winding E10 are enough to make you drive your car right off the road. Limpid, turquoise waters on the right, towering cliffs on the left. Here’s a moment when having a co-pilot would be handy.

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As I drive, I pass cars parked on the shoulder, far from any signed route or lot. Slowly, I learn to look up. There are the drivers, hiking up the mountain face along hard-to-spot trails. My admiration for Norwegians’ appreciation of nature deepens.

My own hikes start with the famous Kvalvika Beach trail, which starts with a long preamble along an elevated boardwalk that brings you to a rocky climb up Ryten mountain. Forty kilometre an hour winds whip the few of us who’ve braved the blustery weather, and there are moments when I feel like I might get whisked right off the cliff. I scan my fellow hikers’ faces for signs of concern, but everyone is taking the weather in stride. When you travel solo, you learn to look for comfort in strangers, to acknowledge your triggers, and to know when you need a pep talk and when you need to quit. I keep climbing, and soon Kvalvika’s turquoise waters come into view.

The famous Kvalvika Beach trail starts with a long preamble along an elevated boardwalk that brings you to a rocky climb up Ryten mountain.Christina Palassio/Handout

The following evening, I shove aside my fear of heights and start Lofoten’s must-do hike: an ascent of Reinebringen’s 1,607 sherpa stairs for 360-degree views of the archipelago. I start out confidently but get shakier as the distance between me and the ground grows. Luckily I catch up to a Bavarian couple about midway up, and they distract me with travel stories as we climb. I’m way more likely to strike up a conversation with strangers when I travel solo, and I’m grateful for all the unexpected experiences I’ve had as a result, from cozy campfire cookouts to impromptu walking tours to hitching rides on the back of fast-moving pelotons. Each interaction has expanded my appreciation of what it means to be in a place.

Before I know it, we’re at the top of Reinebringen. I’m absolutely terrified and totally chuffed that I made it. Long inhale. My hands shake as I pull out my phone and spin around to take a video for my nieces. Long exhale. I can’t wait to watch them grow up and fill their lives with exhilaration and joy.

Arriving in Å a few hours later, the sun still high in the sky, I check into my rorbu, a rustic fisherman’s cabin mounted on stilts just off the shore. I’m thinking I’ll have a late dinner and then hop on my bike for a midnight sun ride. Anna, the reception clerk, asks me how many keys I need. One, I answer. Her eyes light up. “Solo travelling,” she says with a smile. “Lucky you!”