Beyond the cottage windows the world is white and still. Snow-covered mountains tumble to the sea. A single otter scuttles along the frozen river and disappears into the twilight. It’s 2pm but the light’s fading, colouring the scene an eerie blue.
It’s the lure of the Arctic winter that has brought me to northern Norway in January – the strangeness of an icy world with long dark days and, of course, the possibility of seeing the northern lights. But rather than joining an organised (and pricey) aurora borealis trip with a tour operator, I’m here on a DIY long weekend with friends, renting a house in the tiny fishing village of Oldervik, an hour’s drive north-east of Tromsø.
Our hire car comes with snow tyres and soon we’re following the wide coast road out of town. Norway is known for its astronomical prices so we’ve stashed food staples in our cases, raided duty free and stopped at a supermarket en route to top up. Non-drivers and those looking to save cash can take a bus to Oldervik: it runs three times a day from Tromsø (£7 each way).
The village sits on Ullsfjorden, in a deep valley between two mountains, with our base – the cute four-bedroom, red-roofed River House – on the banks of the Oldervikelva river. On our first day we shovel away the snow from the doorway then layer up and crunch down to the harbour where fishermen are prepping to set out to sea.
“Come back in 24 hours,” they say. “We’ll have fish for you then.”
There’s little light pollution here, but the night is cloudy – not promising for aurora-spotting – so we retreat to the cosiness of home. The all-engulfing silence makes sleep easy, the gentle thud of snow occasionally falling from the roof the only sound.
With no itinerary and no sun to wake us, days play out in a time-warp cocoon. We’re more than 200 miles north of the Arctic Circle, so the sun never appears above the horizon, but there’s a window of half-light from 10am till 2pm that we use to hike north between the water and the mountains, passing picture-book cabins and a tiny school. The weather here is influenced by the Gulf Stream, so temperatures don’t plummet to way below freezing like they do further inland, hovering around zero by day. Across the sea the Lyngen Alps soar jaggedly into the frigid sky. There are no shops or restaurants in Oldervik (nor within an hour’s drive), and although 300 people live in the village, there is no one about today; it’s just us making fresh tracks in the snow.
Adrenaline-pumping activities, from dog sledding and reindeer adventures that take you deep into the wilderness, are easy to arrange from Tromsø – as are northern lights excursions, which chase any patches of clear sky throughout the night. And from Oldervik visitors can hike high into the mountains or ski cross-country along the frozen river and stay overnight in a network of huts.
But the stark beauty of the landscape and the sense of life being lived in slow motion, make us just want to stop for a while. We cook, chat, read and stare, hypnotised, at the whiteness. When we do venture out, we use snowshoes to climb through the woods in deep snow, past a little cemetery lit up in the half-light. Another day we hike south along the fjord – the moon out above the peaks in a pink-orange sky – and pass a man digging a path through the snow to reach his “summer house”.
A blizzard sets in that evening, the boats are back in the harbour, and down at the fish factory production is in full flow, a slick operation of cleaning, gutting and packing the sought-after skrei, Norway’s seasonal migrating cod. We choose one for dinner and watch as local fisherman Lars prepares it in moments. “I’m the fastest filleter in the north,” he says.
At Oldervik, it’s possible to catch the aurora borealis any time from September to April, though mid-November to mid-January, when the sun never appears, is best. The visitors’ book has dozens of thrilled accounts of them appearing every night outside the front door or a little further along the valley (Sarah, the house owner, recommends staying at least four nights in case of bad weather). With overcast skies we’ve not been in luck so far but on our last night, at the first sign of clouds clearing, we bundle into the car and haven’t driven far when, with much excitement, we spot a strange glowing arc straddling the road like a milky rainbow. The stars are now out in force against the blackest of skies, flanked by white mountains, the sliver of moon aglow.
And then it begins: shafts of greeny-white light dance as if from spotlights on the ground, a UFO-shaped light beams tendrils to earth. To the naked eye the lights are not the vibrant greens and blues cameras capture on long exposures (nor the total black on my iPhone snaps) but it’s a mesmerising, otherworldly show nonetheless. The temperature has plummeted to -10C but we lie on the ground and watch, never wanting it to end.
We leave for Tromsø the next day happy – and in the muted daylight see what we’d missed on the way in. Incredible views of water, mountains and snow – and eagles soaring overhead.
Tromsø is a small, pretty town, yet after our disconnect from the world, it seems busy. The modern cathedral is striking, the cafes chic and welcoming, the art gallery intriguing. But it’s the stillness of the vast, empty white wilderness beyond that gets under the skin – and the memory of that majestic lightshow will be forever etched in our minds.
• River House sleeps six in four bedrooms from £600 a week or £450 for four nights. Sister property Solli (sleeps four, £630 per week, min stay four nights), right on the water, is on Airbnb
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