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Into the Arctic Circle

by Paul Gallagher

Having been to Iceland the other location that was on my radar and, not too far away, was Lofoten which is an archipelago off the north-west coast of Norway. There is only one main road, the E10 that extends the full length of this land mass which consists of 1,227 square kilometres and it shares the same latitude as Alaska and Greenland, so it can get cold in the winter but the summer months are surprisingly mild due to the Gulf Stream.

We decided to travel in March as I wanted to see the place in its full winter glory and challenge myself to photographing in such tricky weather. The purpose of the journey was a reconnaissance trip so I could later return with Aspect2i workshop groups and teach photography out there. The journey there was not an easy one as we had to travel on very specific dates, there and back. No matter which way you approach travelling to Lofoten there is actually no easy route to choose from - after all it is a peninsula in the Arctic Circle! We flew from Heathrow to Oslo, changed planes and flew to Bodo, and took our last flight from there to Leknes. Yes that's six flights to get there and back!

We arrived rather tired in Leknes and collected our hire car from the airport. This was the first time I realised that the Nordic people are so well equipped for their winter conditions. We only needed a small car and when we were checking it over before I signed the documents I noticed that the tyres where steel studded. I was informed that this little run-around would not leave the road in a hurry and I soon found that out. It is worth pointing out at this stage that during my stay in Lofoten I only actually saw a tarmac road surface for approximately two miles of road travelled. The road surfaces are literally ice roads that are constantly snow-ploughed and marked with tall red poles so you don't wander off into the drifts.

Our base was Ballstad, which is a small fishing harbour on the northeastern coast. I checked into my room, freshened up, then I was on my way with camera in hand. Firstly, all I can say is that this environment is stunning and also full of surprises because, as you travel round, the road mostly follows the coast and every turn of a corner shows a new view and amazing fjords. Although the main road is the E10 there are lots of other little side roads that lead to fishing harbours and remote fjords where you often find fish racks of cod drying ready for export which is a tradition which has been carried out on this peninsular for over 1,000 years. These fish racks alone became a great source of photography as they can cover acres of land in the middle of nowhere with their complex criss-cross of wooden poles.

Although it was very cold I was so glad I had travelled here in the winter months. The light was fleeting and the sky could be filled with heavily laden clouds which could suddenly engulf you in a full blizzard of driving winds. The fjords where astonishing places in which to work. As you stood here in silence on the water's edge you could hear the ice cracking and moving as the tides moved in and out during the day. There was one particular morning when we headed deep onto the south of the islands when I noticed huge cracks in the ice on the fjord below the road. It was a fine morning and the sun was out with a deep blue sky and I just had to park the car and find a way down to explore the photographic opportunities. As I reached the edge of the frozen fjord, the cracks in the ice where actually much further away than I had envisaged which meant that if I was to get close enough to set up my camera I would be forced to walk out onto the ice. I should explain at this stage that the ice forms over night as the temperatures plummet and at certain times this happens when the tide is at it's highest during the night. As the sea level lowers during the retreating tide the following morning, the ice on the surface of the fjord rests on the boulder fields below and so the ice cracks.

I was left with a pretty difficult predicament. Do I take the risk of walking onto the ice sheet to reach the cracks and risk going under, or do I compromise and stay on solid ground and make do with what I had? It is my belief that I had come here to make good images and to challenge myself, and I also believe that if you do not take risks then life gets boring!

I soon donned my salopettes and ice spikes on my boots and walked out onto the ice sheet.

As I carefully made my way out I heard Michael, my fellow photographer who travelling with me shout, "You must be mad!" With my heart pounding I placed every foot slowly and I could feel the large sheets of ice flexing and I could hear them cracking. After about five minutes I placed my camera bag down right on the edge of the thinnest ice and gingerly set up several compositions that I had seen from the safety of the car.

Having made the exposures I was delighted and then realised I had to make my return journey back to the water's edge. I made it back, and with a huge sigh of relief, flopped myself down onto the soft snow and Michael then said he had taken a picture of me out there on the ice. It was worth every moment and the resulting images are ones I will cherish for years.

Although not to the same extent, this process of exploring the ice and fjords and working on the water's edge continued throughout the week.

The farther south you head down the peninsula, the steeper the mountains get, and they almost come soaring out of the water in front of you. The most dramatic locations for this were at Ramberg and Reine. The best coastal location was, by far, Flakstad as there are small coastal roads leading to tiny hamlets with fish racks and little harbours, and the geology and rocks on the edge of the fjords could have easily enticed me to stay there for days on end. I experienced some of the best evening light here as the storms cleared to give soft blue skies and a warm orange glow from the sun on the distant mountains.

The depth of the snow can be very unpredictable and this I discovered one very windy and bitterly cold afternoon at Flakstad. We parked at the roadside and waited for a blizzard to pass then we decided to head down to the edge of the fjord. Little did I realise that in places it was up to my chest and I was quite literally having to dig myself out of what was a boulder field below covered in a winter's season of accumulated snow. It took us 30 minutes to navigate 500 metres and when we arrived at our chosen spot we were exhausted and very cold. A quick check of the air temperature showed minus 8 and that was without the wind chill factor!

One day we ventured up into the northern end of the peninsular around the Bostad area and it had been snowing heavily all morning. The coverage of snow had turned the landscape entirely white apart from the trees that appeared on the hillsides. The landscape was completely silent and without the roadside poles it would have been almost impossible to judge the direction in which to steer the car. We spent hours exploring this very different landscape. Compared with the steep-sided mountains and fjords this required a minimalist approach.

Lofoten is a place that overwhelmed me at times, made me shiver with the cold and forced me to run for cover during the blizzards. If I am to be honest, it offered more photographic reward than Iceland and it will certainly be a place I return to over and over again. I am now running two workshops there next year and I am looking forward to that time already and sharing my experiences with other photographers. The journey home was as expected, and when I arrived home I was tired but I had a feeling that I had been on a real adventure, a real trip into the wilderness, into the Arctic Circle.



Updated 27/04/2026 16:44:22 Last Modified: Monday, 27 April 2026