Chasing Waves in the Arctic: A Surf Journey to Lofoten Islands - DRYTIDE Waterproof Backpacks, Duffels and Dry Bags

This is the surf in the frigid waters of northern Norway. It's not always like this, there is another face to surfing here, even more comon - next slide.

There are plenty of empty beaches where you can park right next to the sea. Just be sure to leave the spot exactly as you found it.

In spring, most of the storm clouds rolling in bring snow. Eventually, we found ourselves preferring snow to rain. But let’s start at the beginning—with the drive.

No matter where you’re from, northern Norway is far. Just driving from the southernmost to the northernmost point of the country covers 2,300 km—and that’s taking the shorter route through Sweden and Finland. Driving the whole way through Norway? Even longer.

Our drive was around 3,600 km one way. The first 2,000 km through Europe were fairly uneventful, but once we reached Finland, the landscape began to change. The first thing you notice is why it’s called the land of a thousand lakes. The second? As you head north, most of those lakes are frozen solid—a lingering reminder of the cold winter, even as temperatures begin to rise in the south.

The farther north you go, the more you feel you're approaching the Arctic Circle and the land known as Lapland—scattered houses, snowmobiles, powerful LED light bars on cars, ice hole fishing, and fewer and fewer trees. That’s me filling up the van at the last gas station before Norway, in Abisko.

The mountains between Sweden and Norway were buried under two meters of snow. Up here in the north, ski season doesn’t really start until the end of February—before that, it’s simply too dark and cold.

Passing the sign marking the Arctic Circle felt pretty special—it really hits home that you're venturing far north on the globe. Another highlight was passing Riksgränsen, a famous ski resort up north. When I was a young snowboarder, I used to drool over late-season sunset shots from this place.

One ridiculous Norwegian speeding fine later, we arrived in the biggest town on the islands. But we didn't stop for long...

The surf forecast for our arrival day looked promising, so we headed straight to the beach. At first, it looked flat—but as we got closer, this was one of the first waves we saw.

A small, quiet village rests on an almost perfectly flat plain—framed on both sides by mountains that rise sharply from the ground.

Spring is the season when temperatures are just right for drying cod, so you'll see them hanging everywhere—sometimes whole bodies, sometimes just the heads. The dried heads are exported to Africa, where they’re used to make soup.

After our first surf and a warm meal, we took an evening walk around the bay. The low sun bathed everything in golden light.

To end the day, it looked promising for a chance to see the northern lights. The days were already quite long—this photo was taken at 12:30 a.m. But it was probably too bright, and a bit too cloudy, so no luck this time.

Next day morning greeted us with a surprise. It was snowing!

We weren’t exactly sure what to expect from the weather in April. The forecast showed temperatures above freezing, so the snowfall definitely caught us by surprise.

But since the snow wasn’t deep, we got used to it quickly. In fact, it made everything more interesting—and the landscape even more beautiful. As for surfing, it didn’t really change how cold it felt out there anyway.

Surfing in the falling snow was a truly special experience. By the end of the trip, after getting a taste of cold spring rain, we all agreed—snow is definitely better.

So, how cold is it to surf here in April? This is when the sea is at its coldest—4.5°C. But with a 6mm wetsuit, 7mm gloves, and mittens (all brand new), it actually wasn’t that bad at all.

When there are plenty of waves and no wind, I actually felt a bit too warm. But if you have to sit and wait for a long time between sets, that’s when the cold starts to creep in.

We got into a rhythm of surfing and exploring the islands. This shot was taken along a hiking trail on the wild coast, where, if you're very lucky, you might spot a seal.

4.5°C water might sound cold, but it’s actually a result of a warm sea current flowing past Norway. Without it, the sea here would be frozen.

Air temperatures ranged from -1°C to +8°C, but the wind made it feel much colder. So, when I was standing outside taking photos, I threw on a jacket and some gloves over my wetsuit.

We made two trips to the southern part of the islands. This shot was from a quick stop in the south.

The islands are all about fishing so it's not surprising that their traditional meals are seafood. Fish soup and two fish burgers.

Life here in the past must have been incredibly tough—cold, dark winters, a wild sea, and an inhospitable landscape. People had to be tough as nails to survive.

Taumatawhakatangihangakoauauotamateaturipukakapiki-maungahoronukupokaiwhenuakitanatahu (New Zealand) holds the world record for the longest place name on the planet. And then there’s this town at the southern end of the islands—got to love Scandinavian minimalism.

A is the last village on the main chain of islands. Beyond it lies a rugged, mountainous coastline, followed by two smaller, more distant islands—Værøy and Røst only reachable by ferry.

That's us, along with our dog.

The landscape is blanketed in a carpet of moss, unusual grasses, lichen, and tiny shrubs. At this time, it was also very wet—what looked like dry land often ended with your foot sinking deep into water hidden under this natural carpet.

Drying cod, this time the whole fish bodies.

After a few days, the right point finally woke up and started working.

This surf spot is well protected from the wind, nestled between the mountains, but every now and then, strong offshore gusts made the session tricky.

A scene from the southern part of the islands.

This has to be one of the most photographed spots here, and it's easy to see why. The traditional red houses, perched on beams above the rocky shore, sit beneath the almost-black granite mountains.

Everyone asks if the weather was bad—but it was just classic April weather. One hour it’s cloudy with precipitation, the next it’s bluebird skies and sunshine. Kind of like home, just more extreme—and the precipitation was usually snow.

After one of the stronger snowstorms, a blanket of snow covered the islands. Usually, it melts almost as soon as the snowfall stops—but this time, it stuck around for about a day.

Here is the before after photo. Yesterday evening (left) and this morning (right).

There are 8 major bridges and 2 main tunnels—one of which runs under the sea—connecting the islands. But if you counted every single bridge and tunnel, there must be hundreds.

This is another incredibly popular photo spot. A red house on a white sand beach with turquoise sea in the background—it looks like someone dropped a Norwegian cabin in the middle of the Maldives. Well... not in this photo, haha.

I always dreamed of having a surf photo beneath snow-covered mountains. Now I’ve got a whole gallery full of them.

This is the traditional fishing village of Nusfjord. These days it mostly caters to tourists—but in April, it was completely empty.

Locals also dry cod for personal use, often hanging them under the roof overhangs.

A fishing hut that likely hasn’t been converted into accommodation yet.

This birds are an endangered relative of seagulls, so they made special stands for them to nest.

Beyond the village, there's nothing but wild coast. It’s another perfect spot to see a seal, so we decided to check it out.

The hills around the sea are littered with shells and crab remains—this is where the birds bring their catch to feast.

The sea around the islands is home to some huge visitors as well—whales in winter and orcas in summer.

On the second day of right point action, we ended with an incredible sunset session bathed in deep golden light. They call April the photographer’s month here—the sun’s position brings out stunning colors almost all day long.

A perfect beachbreak wall.

During our first days driving through the Lofoten Islands, we couldn’t stop saying how beautiful everything was. Around every corner, a new breathtaking scene revealed itself. After a few days, you start to get a little used to all the stunning nature and charming villages—but it still remains pretty incredible.

After a few days of surfing in the freezing waters of the Norwegian Sea, it was time to hit the sauna—and this might just be the best view sauna ever.

To cool down, we even took a quick dip in the sea.

Chasing down a section on the right.

Before the trip, I tossed my squid fishing rods into the van—the only ones I had. Not ideal for Norwegian fish, but better than nothing. I picked up a couple of jigs from a regular grocery store and headed out for some late-night fishing.

On my third try, I caught this tasty Atlantic cod. 'Wow, fishing here is easy!' I thought. But that was it—no more luck for the rest of the trip.

There were no massive swells during our trip, but the surf was consistent—and we managed to surf every day.

Since the waves were mostly on the smaller side, we shared the biggest board we brought—a 6'3" high-volume shape from Saqua Shapes, Portugal.

The sea close to shore is filled with bull kelp. I’m not used to seeing this, so I was always super impressed by the shapes and colors of the kelp washed up on the beach.

I was a bit nervous about our old van making the 8,000 km trip, but apart from a cracked windshield, we didn’t have any issues.

The afternoon was mostly rainy and dark, with small waves. It was slowly starting to feel like time to head back home.

Driving back through Lapland, we had numerous encounters with northern reindeer. Some are owned by farmers, equipped with transceivers, but roam freely in nature.

This interesting 'sculpture' is actually a map of the mountains surrounding the lake in Abisko National Park.

Another strange art installation on the way home is 'The Silent People'—a thousand wooden statues dressed in clothes, located somewhere in the middle of Finland near the Russian border.

The last surf check of the trip was on the Baltic Sea. We were a day late for the bigger waves, and with lots of driving ahead, we just took a walk on the beach before moving on. This was one of the most memorable surf trips of my life.

SURFING LOFOTEN ISLANDS TRIP FACTS: 3,650 km and 46 hours of driving each way turned into three days of driving in each direction. 8,000 km in total, with our northernmost point sitting about 230 km above the Arctic Circle. The trip spanned 17 days in April and May. We surfed in the coldest sea of the year (4.5°C), with daily air temperatures ranging from -2°C to +8°C. We hit four snowstorms, scored 11 surf sessions across one right point, one left point, and one beach break. One Atlantic cod was caught, one windshield cracked, one muffler dropped, 30 kg of propane burned, and we went “Wow!” at the landscape approximately 1,000 times. We also picked up one speeding ticket, spotted 12 white rabbits, 2 foxes, 2 white ermines, and 9 reindeer. Gear included 7 mm mittens and booties, 6 mm wetsuits, and we had 0 northern lights sightings.

Our surf trip sparked a lot of curiosity among friends following us on Instagram, so instead of writing a traditional blog post, I’m answering the most common questions we received.

Why go surfing in the Arctic Circle?

Adventure, plain and simple. We’d never been to Scandinavia—let alone that far north—and I always dreamed of getting a surf shot with snow in the background. While the Lofoten Islands have grown in popularity over the past 10–15 years, they’re still a bit off the beaten path when it comes to surfing. Also, flights to Indo were expensive, and since we were road-tripping, we could bring our dog.

Driving up there by car really adds to the experience. You get to witness the landscape gradually transform as you head north. It becomes more and more arctic—the vegetation thins out, frozen lakes appear in Finland, then the first patches of snow. Forests begin to fade, the snow cover thickens, and the scenery grows lonelier, with only a few scattered houses. Snowmobiles become more common, along with pickup trucks fitted with massive LED bars for winter driving. Eventually, the landscape turns completely barren, blanketed in a thick layer of snow.

How cold is it to surf in 4.5°C water?

I can confirm firsthand that neoprene is a good insulation material haha. Everyone (including us) was wondering how brutal it would be. I knew what the temperatures would be like, but it’s hard to imagine how it would feel without experiencing it. I’d previously surfed in 7°C water and 0°C air in the northern Adriatic, wearing a 5 mm suit and thin gloves/booties, and it was painfully cold.

But we came prepared: brand new 6 mm wetsuits, 7 mm mittens, and 7 mm booties. After the initial shock, I was doing three-hour sessions without feeling cold. On some days, I even overheated and had to dunk my head in the sea to cool off. Best-case scenario? New suit, sunny day, no wind, lots of waves—you’ll actually be hot. But if a few of those factors are missing, the cold creeps in quickly. Also, it’s a real plus if you can change out of the wetsuit inside your warm van and not outside in the parking lot.

Why go in April and not during the warmer summer months?

April marks the tail end of the winter season, this is when the swells are bigger. I read somewhere that winds are also more favorable this time of year. It’s also the time in between the tourist seasons. People come here in winter and in summer, in April it’s empty and deserted. Looking back on the trip, it was also pretty sick that we got some snowstorms that really added to the Arctic feeling. April is also considered “photographer’s month” due to the low-angle sunlight that lasts all day. Honestly, the timing was perfect—and it’s when we had time off.

Why take the “eastern route” instead of going through Germany/Denmark?

It depends on where you are from obviously, but for most of Europeans Norway is pretty far away. But it’s not only that, even once you make it to Norway, the Norway itself is huge! There is 2000km from south to north. The country is mountainous, and its roads snake along fjords and up and down the mountains with almost no highways. The eastern route—Czechia, Poland, the Baltics, Finland, Sweden—is a bit longer in distance but flatter and easier on a 20-year-old van. Plus, I think there are fewer tolls: you need a vignette for Austria and Czechia, but the rest is free for cars and vans. The Tallinn–Helsinki ferry also only takes two hours and there are plenty of ferries going back and forth throughout the day. Also: Finland is stunning.

Did you modify the van for Arctic travel?

Only minor changes. Our all-season tires were nearly new—good enough for this time of year. Heating was the real issue. It’s not a problem to heat up the van if you have a heater, it’s how much and how fast that heat escapes as soon as you turn it off. Our van is semi-insulated, so to improve efficiency I added:

Thick thermal curtains between the bed and rear doors
Insulation pads for both roof windows
New covers for the front cockpit windows

We used just under 30 kg of propane over 17 days. Temps mostly hovered between 1°C and 6°C—manageable. When temperatures drop below zero or below -5C, propane use spikes (I know from a skiing trip). You can refill propane bottles in Svolvær or use Norwegian exchange bottles (if you have the right connectors). A diesel heater would’ve been ideal, so we wouldn’t have to drive around for propane.

Is it as beautiful as it looks?

F**k yes.

The mountains are wild black granite, still blanketed in snow, rising sharply from soft meadows covered in grass, moss, lichen, and cushiony tundra plants. It’s like walking on a plush carpet—except there’s often water underneath. Rivers, lakes, waterfalls are everywhere. Add white sand beaches, turquoise sea, charming red Norwegian houses, and Arctic sunlight… it’s a dream.

Was the weather terrible the whole time?

Not at all, but it changed constantly. One moment you’re in a snowstorm; drive through a tunnel, and you pop out into bright sunshine. We had 3–4 full-sun days, 2 overcast ones, and everything else was mixed. The wind comes and goes, but the main surf spot is well protected. We took a lot of snow photos—it just looked so surreal to be surrounded by snow while on a surf trip.

How was the surf in Lofoten islands?

Consistent and fun. The beach break works even on tiny swells, especially on low tide, offering waist-high clean walls. The two points (left and right) need more swell but offer quality waves when on. The left worked I think two days out of 11, the right worked 3 days out of 11, the rest it was the beachbreak. We didn’t score any all-time epic swells, but it was fun every day. With no crowds, even with smaller waves you get your surf fix.

How many people surf there?

Not many—it’s 4°C water haha! Surfing Lofoten Islands is definitely on the radar for many surfers—people have seen epic photos of the waves firing up there. But let’s be honest, it’s still freezing and not exactly inviting. In my opinion, there are three main things that attract crowds to surf spots—besides good waves: warm weather, affordability, and easy access. And this Arctic location is none of those. So…on small days, you might see 2–4 people (a “crowd” here). Surf schools pop up occasionally. On better days, locals show up. With long daylight hours, you can wait out a crowd. We started one session at 8:00 PM alone; an hour later two more people arrived. When all 4 ended the session around 10:20 PM, one more surfer had arrived for a quick very late evening session. Summer reportedly gets extremely busy, so cold water has its perks.

Is it expensive?

Yes—but it also depends on what you do. Norway is the most expensive, followed by Finland; Sweden is the cheapest. Fuel up in Sweden. Grocery prices vary: if you are careful about what you buy expect things to be 30% more than elsewhere in Europe, if you just grab and buy then you pay up to 60% more. Eating out 2-4x more expensive, buying alcohol 2–3x more expensive.

Btw, we tried some local seafood: cod burger—solid, pulled salmon burger—great, fish soup—absolutely amazing and of course, cinnamon buns – very good.

What’s with all the drying fish heads?

At first, I thought they were some kind of Norwegian delicacy. Not quite—dried cod heads are exported to Africa, where they’re used in their traditional soups. Dried cod meat mostly goes to Europe. In April, temperatures are finally warm enough to dry fish (too cold before, and it just freezes). You’ll see drying racks everywhere. Fresh cod is also excellent—I got lucky and caught one and we cooked it the next day.

Would you go again?

Already making plans haha.