Introduction: A Poetic Island at the Edge of the World
At the southernmost tip of the Lofoten Islands in northern Norway, well within the Arctic Circle, lies a small island called Moskenes. With a population of barely 1,000 souls, this island is renowned for its dramatic peaks, deep fjords, and the wild waves of the North Sea that create breathtaking landscapes.
The name “Moskenes” derives from Old Norse, meaning “moss headland,” and true to its name, the entire island is carpeted in emerald green. The midnight sun of summer, the polar nights of winter, and the aurora borealis that dances across the sky from spring through autumn give this island an ethereal beauty that seems almost otherworldly.
Fishing sustains the island’s economy, particularly cod and salmon. It’s famous for producing traditional dried cod called “stockfish,” and in winter, wooden drying racks known as “flake” stand like sentinels across the landscape, draped with fish curing in the Arctic air.
Small villages dot the island, where traditional red-roofed fishermen’s cabins called “rorbuer” line the shores of secluded inlets like scenes from a postcard. Far from modern conveniences, time flows differently here, and the people live in harmony with nature’s rhythms.
I decided to visit this island because I wanted to escape the noise of daily life and discover what true silence really means.
Day 1: Arrival Through the Mist
At the end of June, I flew from Bergen to Leknes on a domestic flight, then took a bus to Moskenes Island. The E10 highway stretched endlessly northward, crossing bridge after bridge into the Lofoten archipelago. The scenery from the window grew increasingly wild, with the striking contrast of blue sea and razor-sharp peaks leaving a lasting impression.
Around 11 AM, I finally arrived in Moskenes village. Mist hung heavy in the air, hiding the famous mountains behind veils of cloud, but this only added to the mystical atmosphere. At my accommodation, a small guesthouse called “Vidna House,” the proprietress Astrid welcomed me warmly.
“It’s foggy today, but I’m sure it will clear by tomorrow morning,” she said with a gentle smile. Her English carried a charming Norwegian accent, and her warm manner immediately put me at ease. The room was simple but spotlessly clean, with a window overlooking the mist-shrouded inlet.
I decided to explore the village in the afternoon. This small community of about 300 people was scattered with wooden houses painted in red, yellow, and blue. Every home was well-maintained, with colorful flowers adorning the windowsills. At the village center stood a small church, its white walls and green roof particularly beautiful against the misty backdrop.
On my way to the harbor, I passed a local man who looked like a fisherman. He raised his hand in casual greeting, and I returned the gesture. We didn’t exchange words, but his natural friendliness seemed to embody the warmth of the island’s people.
The harbor was filled with colorful fishing boats, surrounded by crying seagulls. Though the mist obscured distant views, the sound of waves, bird calls, and the occasional boat engine created a pleasant rhythm in the silence.
For dinner, I went to the village’s only restaurant, “Fiskerokken.” The menu was simple, focusing on fresh fish dishes. I ordered the local grilled cod. The thick fillet was remarkably firm, with its simple preparation of lemon and dill enhancing the fish’s natural flavor. The side dishes of potatoes and carrots were sweet and delicious, showcasing the quality of local ingredients.
The other diners appeared to be locals, their quiet Norwegian conversations occasionally punctuated by laughter that spoke of this small community’s strong bonds.
Even past 9 PM, the sky remained bright. During late June at this latitude, the midnight sun continues its eternal dance. Returning to the guesthouse, I found Astrid having tea by the fireplace.
“Would you care to join me for tea?” she invited, and I gladly accepted. She told me she was born and raised on the island, and after marriage, never left, choosing instead to run the guesthouse with her husband.
“We don’t have the conveniences of city life, but here we have a peace you can’t find anywhere else,” she said. “I started this business because I wanted people to experience the joy of living in harmony with nature.”
Listening to her words while gazing into the flames, I felt a deep tranquility that urban life couldn’t offer. It wasn’t merely the absence of sound, but a profound peace rising from somewhere deep within.
Around 11 PM, twilight finally began to deepen, though true darkness never came. Looking out the window, I could see the mist clearing slightly, with mountain silhouettes faintly visible in the distance. Tomorrow promised to be clear.
Day 2: The Symphony of Mountain and Sea
I woke at 6 AM to find the sky brilliantly clear. Yesterday’s mist had vanished as if it were a dream, revealing Moskenes Island in all its glory. The imposing peaks, including the 1,029-meter Moskenesøya, stood majestically in the morning light, radiating an almost sacred dignity.
Breakfast was refreshingly Nordic in its simplicity: dense rye bread with butter, smoked salmon, and local cheese, accompanied by coffee, yogurt, and berry jam. Everything was intensely flavorful, with the smoked salmon perfectly seasoned.
After breakfast, Astrid suggested, “The weather’s lovely today – why don’t you walk to Å village?” Å village sits at the southwestern tip of the island, a tiny fishing hamlet called “one of the world’s most beautiful villages.”
Around 9 AM, I laced up my hiking boots and set off. The 6-kilometer journey from Moskenes to Å follows mountain trails through breathtaking scenery. Along the way, I encountered a flock of sheep. The friendly animals didn’t flee when they saw me; instead, they approached with curious interest. Their thick wool was surprisingly soft to the touch.
I spotted a fisherman in the distance, an elderly local quietly casting his line. When I passed, he turned and smiled, saying something in Norwegian. Though I couldn’t understand the words, his expression clearly conveyed welcome.
After about two hours, I reached Å village. This small community facing a protected inlet was like stepping into a storybook. Traditional red-roofed rorbuer lined the waterfront, with towering peaks rising dramatically behind them. The buildings were constructed using ancient techniques, some assembled entirely without nails.
The village houses a small museum dedicated to the fishing history of the Lofoten Islands. Examining the old fishing equipment and model boats, I was moved by the wisdom and courage of people who had lived in this harsh environment. The reality of having to fish even in winter storms to survive, yet still loving the sea, spoke to an incredible strength of spirit.
For lunch, I tried fiskesuppa (fish soup) at a small village café. The hearty soup, filled with large chunks of cod, salmon, and shrimp, concentrated all the flavors of the sea and warmed me to my core. Creamy yet not heavy, with subtle vegetable sweetness, it was a gentle, comforting dish.
I spent the afternoon exploring the village surroundings. Walking along the inlet, I was captivated by the mountains reflected in the water and had to stop to take in the beauty. The water was incredibly clear, revealing schools of small fish swimming below. Seals occasionally surface here, though I wasn’t fortunate enough to spot any that day.
Climbing to higher ground, I could survey the entire Lofoten archipelago. The countless islands floating in the blue sea, each crowned with mountains, created a natural masterpiece. Wind caressed my cheeks while birdsong echoed around me. In that moment, I felt completely transported from reality into another world.
On the evening return to Moskenes village, I met a local woman. She was a shepherdess, moving her flock with the help of a border collie. When I asked to take her photograph, she graciously agreed. Her name was Ingrid, and she had been doing this work for over thirty years.
“The sheep are like family to me,” she explained. “Each one has its own personality, and I’ve named them all. City people might not understand, but I find great joy in working with animals in nature.”
Her words reminded me of something I’d forgotten in urban life. In our modern society’s pursuit of efficiency and convenience, perhaps we’re losing sight of what truly matters.
That evening at the guesthouse dining room, Astrid prepared a home-cooked meal: roasted lamb, mashed potatoes, and seasonal vegetable salad. Though simple, every dish was prepared with love and warmth. The lamb was perfectly seasoned with herbs, without any gamey flavor – absolutely delicious.
After dinner, Astrid showed me old photographs of Moskenes Island, sharing fascinating stories about life fifty years ago and her grandparents’ days as fishermen.
“Island life is never easy, but here we have a richness you can’t find in cities,” she said. “Not material wealth, but spiritual richness. Living in harmony with nature brings a kind of peace to the heart.”
That night, stepping outside, I was amazed to see faint aurora-like lights dancing across the sky. Though unusual for this time of year, pale green curtains of light swept across the heavens in breathtaking beauty. In that moment, I knew this journey had become something truly special.
Day 3: Morning of Farewell and Landscapes Etched in Memory
My final morning dawned partly cloudy. However, sunlight streaming through gaps in the clouds illuminated the sea surface, creating beautiful golden reflections. Knowing I would have to leave the island that afternoon filled me with melancholy.
After breakfast, I decided to walk through the village one last time. Small details I’d previously missed now caught my attention: tiny flower pots on windowsills, laundry swaying in the breeze, a cat sunbathing – all these everyday scenes felt precious and dear.
At the harbor, fishermen were preparing for the day’s catch. I approached an elderly man mending nets, and he spoke to me in broken English. His name was Olav, and he had been fishing these waters for over fifty years.
“The sea is harsh, but it’s also generous,” he said. “If you respect the sea and never forget to be grateful, the sea will provide for you.”
His hands were weathered from years of labor, but his expression held deep satisfaction. This was the face of someone who took pride in his work and lived in harmony with nature.
During my final morning, I visited a small church on the island’s north side. Built in the 12th century, the stone structure was simple yet emanated a solemn atmosphere. Inside, stained glass windows cast beautiful patterns of light across the floor.
Sitting quietly before the altar, my heart was enveloped in complete silence. Regardless of religious beliefs, this place seemed to hold something sacred. Over many centuries, countless people had offered prayers here. Perhaps their accumulated devotion had imbued this space with special power.
For lunch, Astrid prepared a special packed meal for me to enjoy by the seashore. She provided sandwiches, fruit, and a thermos of warm soup. Eating while listening to the waves felt more delicious than any meal at a luxury restaurant.
After eating, I walked along the coast, reflecting on these three days and two nights. Though my stay was brief, the people I met, the landscapes I witnessed, and the emotions I felt will never be forgotten. Particularly, the way the islanders lived in harmony with nature profoundly influenced my values.
Around 2 PM, as bus time approached, Astrid came to see me off. “Please come back anytime,” she said. “This island will always welcome you.” Her warm words touched my heart deeply.
Boarding the bus, I tried to burn every scene into memory: Moskenes Island’s mountains, the blue sea, the small fishing villages, and the warm-hearted people. Everything felt precious and beloved.
As we traveled south on the E10, I quietly savored the journey’s afterglow. I had learned much on this island: nature’s beauty, the richness of simple living, warm human connections, and the importance of facing oneself in silence.
Though busy urban life awaits my return, the peace I found on this island and my newfound respect for nature will surely remain in my heart. By occasionally remembering this experience, perhaps I can maintain inner tranquility even in daily life.
Conclusion: What Was Genuinely Felt in an Imaginary Journey
This travel account is born of imagination, a journey never actually experienced. Yet while writing these words, I truly felt as though I had visited Moskenes Island and lived through these various experiences.
Riding on the wings of imagination, I landed on a small Arctic Circle island. The mist-shrouded arrival day, the brilliantly clear second day with its stunning scenery, and the quiet emotions of the farewell morning – all were genuinely experienced within my heart.
Particularly memorable were the encounters with island residents. Astrid’s warmth at the guesthouse, shepherdess Ingrid’s love for nature, fisherman Olav’s respect for the sea – through conversations with them, I rediscovered important values often forgotten in modern society.
Moreover, experiencing northern Norway’s harsh yet beautiful nature provided deep reflection on the relationship between humans and the natural world. Like the people of Moskenes Island, I came to understand the meaning of living in harmony with nature.
Though this imaginary journey involved no physical travel, as a journey of the heart it was thoroughly valuable. Even experiences created through imagination can offer emotions and insights that are far from fictional. Perhaps precisely because this was an imaginary world freed from daily constraints, I could encounter pure feelings and realizations.
Should I ever have the opportunity to actually visit Norway’s Lofoten Islands, I would love to compare the experience with this imaginary journey. Surely the real experience will show aspects different from imagination, but the sensitivity cultivated through this mental journey will make any future travel richer.
Travel doesn’t necessarily require physical movement. With imagination as our wings, we can journey anywhere, anytime. And the experiences and emotions gained from such imaginative travel hold value equal to any real journey.
