Lofoten 2025, second trip: Impressions.

Sailing Adventure in the North Sea: Exploring the Lofoten islands in the middle of white nights

This is report about [Sailing impressions] Sailing on Lofoten, so you can read and have picture fr yourself, how it looks like on breathtaking Lofoten islands. And of course JOIN!

The second week of our sailing adventure unfolded very differently from the first. The report about the first week you can find Lofoten 2025, first trip: Impressions..

The weather grew livelier—colder air, shifting winds, and more frequent changes at sea. Our crew was also larger, with some new faces on board, which added a touch of chaos but also a great deal of energy. Boredom was never an option.

This time, the purpose of the journey went beyond exploration. The main goal was training: giving some crew members the chance to step into the role of co-skipper. Day by day, they learned to navigate safely, make nautical decisions with confidence, keep a close watch on the weather, and plan ahead for what lay beyond the horizon.

What follows is a day-by-day account of that second week—a week of practice, discovery, and plenty of unforgettable moments at sea.

Crew Change in Harstad

The second trip began with nothing more dramatic than a crew change. After the first crew left the yacht, I had a few quiet hours to myself. I slipped into one of Harstad’s cozy cafés, where the scent of fresh cinnamon buns and coffee filled the air. This small Arctic town has no shortage of warm, welcoming bakeries, and it felt like the perfect place to pause between voyages—watching locals go about their day, savoring a cappuccino, and letting the anticipation of the next adventure build.
By the afternoon, the yacht was ready, and the new crew began arriving one by one. Wasting no time, I introduced the co-skippers to their first responsibility: provisioning. After a quick orientation—where everything was stored, how to organize supplies—they set off and returned with the week’s food and drinks, completing their first task as a team.
The evening passed in good spirits. We shared a meal on board, went over safety instructions, and finished the day with laughter around the table, playing games and preparing ourselves for the days to come.
Fuel, Maneuvers, and the First Catch

The next morning began with a practical task: refueling the yacht. The previous crew had been unable to top up the tank, as the petrol station was out of service at the time. Fortunately, after a few phone calls, the issue was resolved and the pumps were running again.
Before beginning the week’s training, I wanted to demonstrate something essential—how to maneuver and park the yacht in a tight space. It’s an exercise that demands more than just handling the helm; one must read the wind, measure the available space, and constantly think ahead: What if this happens? What if that goes wrong? It was the perfect opportunity for the new co-skippers to start observing and learning.
While we were busy at the fuel dock, our passionate fishermen couldn’t resist the call of the sea. He leapt onto the pier, dropped a hook into the water, and within a single minute had a fish wriggling on the line. A true professional’s touch—and a promising sign for the days ahead.
First Lessons: Mastering the Yacht Under Engine

My very first task with the new crew was to train the co-skippers in handling the yacht. To become confident sailors, they needed to practice anchoring maneuvers, steer precisely, give commands, and learn what it feels like to be fully in control.
So we dedicated the next couple of hours to drills on the water. We steered circles, figure-eights, and tight turns, testing how the yacht responded to every move. We approached the pier both bow-first and stern-first, practicing slow approaches and controlled reversals. These exercises may appear simple from the outside, but they form the foundation of safe seamanship: understanding how a yacht behaves in a crosswind, how quickly it gathers speed, and how it responds to the helm when space is tight.
To my surprise and delight, our Delphia 47 turned out to be remarkably agile for her size. She responded smoothly under engine, giving the crew confidence that, with practice, they could maneuver her even in the trickiest of harbors.
And here in the Arctic, that skill is more than just convenience—it is survival. Harbors are often narrow, fjords can funnel sudden gusts, and weather can shift in minutes. In such conditions, there is no room for hesitation. Mastering the yacht under engine gives a sailor the calm assurance that, no matter what the wind or tide may bring, they can always bring the boat safely home.
Taking the Helm: First Steps in Navigation

After the basics of maneuvering were complete, it was time to move to the next level of training. The co-skippers now had to do more than simply steer—they were in charge of navigating. With charts spread out and the course plotted, they set the heading and guided us forward, eyes sharp on the water.

This meant watching the navigational marks, reading buoys and beacons, and making sure the yacht stayed clear of shallows and hazards. They had to issue clear commands to the crew, keep track of our progress, and adjust the course when needed. It was no longer just about handling the wheel; it was about responsibility—leading the boat and the people on board with confidence.

For some, it was their first time in command, and you could see how concentration turned into quiet satisfaction once they realized the yacht obeyed their decisions. These were the first small steps from sailor to skipper, and each mile made the transformation a little more real.
Finding the Rhythm of Command

After their first bridge passage and the wide crossing of Andfjorden, our trainees began to settle into the rhythm of command. The initial nervousness gave way to concentration, and from concentration slowly grew confidence. They were no longer just steering—they were beginning to think like skippers.
With the weather forecast in mind, they studied the chart, considered wind direction and swell, and weighed the options. Their decision was sound: to seek shelter behind the island of Halmøya, where a quiet bay promised protection from wind and waves. Approaching carefully, they coordinated the crew, gave commands with growing clarity, and executed the anchoring maneuver.
As the chain rattled out and the anchor dug into the seabed, the yacht came to rest in stillness. Around us stretched the rugged beauty of Halmøya—low green slopes meeting dark stone, seabirds wheeling overhead, and the calm surface of the bay reflecting the pale Arctic sky. It was the perfect reward for a day of learning: a haven chosen by their own decision, a quiet anchorage earned through seamanship.
Fishing Lessons at Anchor

With a fisherman among us, no stop was ever just a stop—and anchoring behind Halmøya was no exception. Hardly had the anchor chain settled on the seabed when the dinghy was lowered, lines were rigged, and hooks splashed into the water. For him, fishing wasn’t just a pastime but a passion, and he never missed a chance to share it.
Soon a few curious crewmates gathered around, eager to learn. He showed them how to bait the hook, how to feel the faintest tug on the line, and how patience is often the best skill a fisherman can have. Yet as the minutes passed, it became clear: luck has a way of favoring professionals. While our seasoned fisherman hauled in his catch with practiced ease, the novices ended the evening with empty lines.
Still, no one was disappointed. Laughter, splashing, and the simple joy of trying turned the small bay into a lively classroom. The fish might not have bitten for everyone, but the memory of that playful evening became just as valuable as any catch.
A Perfect End to the Day

As always, the best way to close a day at sea is with good food and a shared bottle of wine. This evening was no exception. While some of the crew were busy casting lines from the dinghy, others stayed aboard, chopping, stirring, and preparing dinner. By the time the fishermen returned, the galley was filled with the aroma of a warm meal, and the table was set.

We gathered together in the cockpit, the bay lying calm around us, glasses raised and laughter filling the evening air. After hours of training, navigating, and fishing, it was the simplest pleasures—good company, hearty food, and a little wine—that made the day feel complete.
Commanding the Way to Raftsund

As the journey continued, our co-skippers grew more and more confident. The following day the yacht was fully under their command—the responsibility of navigation, timing, and decision-making resting squarely on their shoulders. Their task was a demanding one: to guide us safely, and above all in good time, through Raftsund and into Trollfjorden. Missing the right moment there can be costly, as the tidal currents can turn narrow passages into unpleasant challenges.
Throughout the day they worked with focus—plotting our course, checking navigational marks, and double-checking again. It was a good lesson in reality when two expected green buoys were missing, likely removed for maintenance. Undeterred, they adjusted, trusted the charts, and pressed on.
In the end, their effort paid off. We arrived at the entrance to Raftsund an hour before slack water—perfect timing for a smooth and safe passage. It was a proud moment for the trainees: a day of real responsibility, handled with skill and calm determination.
A Close Encounter in Raftsund

As so often happens at sea, the meeting with a giant comes at the most unlikely place. And so it was here—in the narrowest stretch of Raftsund—that we suddenly found ourselves bow to bow with a mighty Hurtigruten vessel, the Richard With.
True to seafaring custom, they hailed us over VHF to coordinate the passage. I confirmed that we would keep well to the side, staying clear of the channel’s center to give the liner safe room to pass. Moments later, the great steel hull slid by, towering above us, its wake rippling through the confined waters.
It was a textbook encounter: courteous, calm, and without incident. Still, the memory of standing in our small yacht while the Hurtigruten passed so close will remain with the crew—a reminder of how even in the remote Arctic fjords, the sea is never truly empty.
Into the Realm of Trollfjorden

One of the great waypoints of our journey was the legendary Trollfjorden, a place every sailor in Lofoten dreams of visiting at least once. Our plan was bold—we wanted to drop anchor there and spend the night in the shadow of its cliffs. But as soon as we entered, it became clear why Trollfjorden is more often admired than inhabited.
The fjord narrows dramatically, hemmed in by sheer vertical walls that seem to close above your mast. Dark rock looms overhead, streaked with waterfalls, while the water below feels deep and secretive, like something hidden from the sun. Gusts of squally wind rushed down from the cliffs, swirling unpredictably and snatching at sails and rigging. The atmosphere was overwhelming: raw, cold, and awe-inspiring.
We were stunned by its beauty—by the sheer scale of stone and shadow, by the sense that trolls themselves might be watching from the cliffs. Yet it was not a place to linger. The yacht pitched restlessly at anchor, the gusts biting, the chill sinking through our clothes. Frozen but impressed, we finally admitted defeat and chose to leave in search of calmer waters.
Trollfjorden had given us its gift: a glimpse of wild, untamed majesty. And, true to its name, it also chased us away.
Anchoring in the Rain at Kvitnes

After our brief but unforgettable visit to Trollfjorden, we decided to leave the narrow Raftsund behind and look for a quieter, more picturesque bay to anchor in—especially with a front of bad weather moving in. As we approached Kvitnes, the first heavy shower caught us, turning the sky into a grey curtain of rain. We dropped anchor quickly, soaked to the bone.

In the rush, however, we made a small but unforgettable mistake. While lowering the dinghy, we let it slip, and in no time it was drifting past us, carried away by wind and current. For a moment we stood frozen, then scrambled to raise the anchor and give chase. Luckily, we managed to recover it before it reached the rocky shore—a valuable lesson learned with a dash of excitement.

The forecast promised poor weather for the next 24 hours, so we accepted our fate. The crew settled in, playing board games, sharing stories, and resting while the rain drummed steadily on the deck. Between cups of tea and laughter, we also discussed our plans for the upcoming hike near Svolvær, waiting for clearer skies to return.
Rain, Wind, and Laughter at Anchor

Over the Arctic Circle, the days are long—but this one seemed endless as the rain kept pouring and the wind kept howling without pause. With the world outside grey and wet, we turned inward and made the yacht our refuge.
Most of the day was spent around the saloon table, caught up in board games that tested both wit and imagination. The challenge was simple yet maddening: to guess the logic of the other players while trying to mislead them in return. What wild and inventive ideas came to light! Laughter filled the cabin, mixing with the sound of rain drumming on the deck, and even the gloomy weather could not dampen our spirits.
From Rain to Sunshine in Svolvær

The next day the skies finally cleared, and with them came our chance to move on. We made a short hop across to Svolvær, often called the “capital of Lofoten.” Nestled among dramatic peaks, the town has long been the center of the cod-fishing trade and today is also known for its galleries, cozy cafés, and lively harbor life. It’s a place where the rugged heritage of fishermen meets the creative spirit of artists who are drawn to Lofoten’s light and landscape.

The leg itself was brief, but since we could not depart until late afternoon, time was too tight to attempt the famous Devil’s Gate hike. Instead, we wandered through the town and discovered a “mini” version of the Svolvær Gate—just the right size for us to imagine climbing, unlike the real one that towers impossibly high above the landscape.

Back in the marina, we struck up a conversation with our neighbors on the pier, who had just returned from a fishing trip. Generous and smiling, they promised to share some of their catch with us. Our own fisherman—usually so reliable—had been completely distracted by the beauty of the mountains and the endless horizon, leaving his line mostly idle. In the end, we didn’t get the fish that evening—only the promise of it. But in Lofoten, even a promise carries its own kind of charm.
Climbing Toward the Devil’s Gate

The following day was dedicated to a long-awaited hike: the famous Devil’s Gate near Svolvær. The ascent began with a staircase of 600 stone steps, crafted by skilled Sherpas from the Himalayas—a remarkable achievement, though no less steep for their careful work. Step by step, we gained height, the impressive formation of Svolværgeita (“the Svolvær Goat”) rising to our right. From below, we could see tiny figures of climbers tackling its dramatic horns, a reminder of the daring spirit this landscape inspires.

Beyond the stairs, the path itself was not difficult—just a 1.5 km trail hopping from stone to stone, the rocks providing excellent grip. Soon we reached the highlight: the Devil’s Gate itself, a massive boulder wedged improbably between two cliffs, forming a natural bridge. Of course, the reward for the climb was not only the view, but the thrill of walking across that stone suspended in the void. A photo was mandatory, and I did not miss the chance.
A Fisherman’s Reward

When we returned from the hike, a surprise awaited us at the pier. Our neighbor, true to his word, stood ready—not with a token gift, but with a magnificent catch: a gleaming cod weighing nearly five kilos. Even better, it was already cleaned and prepared, ready for the grill.

The timing could not have been more perfect. After hours of climbing and walking, to be greeted with such generosity felt like the highlight of the day. The mountains had given us their views, but the sea, through the hands of a fisherman, gave us its feast.
Stockfish, Souvenirs, and the Road to Strønstad

After our hike, it was time to cast off and slowly begin the journey back. Before leaving Svolvær, we made a short run into the town center to pick up the most iconic souvenir of Lofoten—stockfish. For over a thousand years, this simple yet precious food, dried only by the Arctic wind and sun, has been the lifeline of the islands. Already in Viking times it was exported across Europe, carried on ships as a durable and nutritious supply. Today, stockfish remains one of Norway’s proudest culinary exports, and Lofoten is its undisputed heartland. To our luck, we found a seller with this centuries-old delicacy, and we packed some away as both a gift and a memory. We even managed to send a handful of postcards, carrying a piece of our adventure back to family and friends.

Satisfied with our errands, we set course toward Henningsvær. Known as the “Venice of Lofoten,” the village lies scattered across several small islands, its harbor always lively. We didn’t stop this time, but passing through its channels offered us a glimpse of its unique charm—colorful houses clinging to rocks, boats swaying at the quays, and the dramatic mountains towering in the background.

From there we turned into the channel separating Austvågøya and Nordheia, steering deeper into quieter waters. By evening, we found peace at anchor in the wide, calm bay of Strønstad, where the stillness of the night wrapped up a long and satisfying day.
A Gentle Farewell to Lofoten

The next morning greeted us with a wide, calm bay under a clear blue sky. Before setting course back to Harstad, the crew went ashore for a short walk, happily filling their hands and mouths with ripe blueberries that dotted the hillsides. I, however, chose a different farewell—diving once more into the crisp waters of the Norwegian Sea, knowing it might be another year before I would swim here again.

The return journey unfolded slowly and peacefully. We made a brief intermediate stop in Risøyhamn, raised the sails for a short stretch, but soon had to bring them down as another front began to move in. The wind reminded us that in these latitudes, calm never lasts for long.

Looking back, this voyage was a rich tapestry of events, adventures, spectacles, and—above all—learning. Our co-skippers trained hard and grew with every mile; the crew discovered new skills and new strengths. And the Lofoten themselves? They revealed their countless faces: the smooth, green hills of the north, the towering, rocky walls of the south, and the narrow passages in between, each as breathtaking as the last.

We left the islands filled with respect, gratitude, and a longing to return—for once you sail Lofoten, they remain in your heart forever.