Vesterålen – Lofotens’ underestimated brothers

After a good night’s rest at Midnattsol Camping in Bleik, at northern Norway’s longest beach, I was ready for the Vesterålen. Often overlooked or being mistaken for the Lofoten, Vesterålen are an archipelago adjoining the Lofoten from the north. Compared to the  Lofotens’ sharp-edged mountain peaks and craggy cliffs, the Vesterålen with their round-shaped mountains, rolling hills, and lush meadows seem much friendlier and inviting.

I was following the national tourist route on the beautiful west-coast of Andøya, with pure-white sand beaches, green pastures and the open sea up to Greenland on my right. After two days of mountain passes and many ups and downs, I was enjoying the relatively flat roads. However, I did not benefit much from those for the first twenty kilometers, as the wind was blowing strongly from the south, and I was hardly any faster than going uphill. Luckily the wind did change as forecasted around noon, and for the next two days I enjoyed a gentle push from the back.

I was making good progress the next two days, covering over 160km in two days. After a short wet intermezzo, I was blessed with sunshine and comparably warm temperatures. I actually dared cycling without a woolen hat!

When crossing the enormous bridge at Sortland, the Hurtigruten ship Midnattsol was just approaching and passing underneath. It had been a spectacular sight – taken straight out of a travel magazine.

I followed the Hurtigruten ship on its journey along the south-east coast of Langøya to Stokmarknes. All the while I enjoyed marvelous views of Møysalen’s rugged mountain range. While the ship turned east to enter the narrow passage of Raftsundet, I pressed on to reach the afternoon ferry in Melbu to take me across to the Lofoten.

When arriving at Fiskebøl, Lofoten, the temperature suddenly seemed to have dropped a few degrees. The jagged mountains were covered in snow again, the road just narrowly passing underneath their towering peaks. When reaching Sildpollnes campsite on a small peninsula, I was in for surprise, as it actually turned out to be an exclusive caravan camper site. But the owner took pity on me and allowed me to put up my tent between the mobile homes. The campsite seemed crowded, with caravans standing side by side, hardly leaving room to open the car doors without scratching off their neighbour’s finish. I had been assigned a tiny bit of green pasture besides a merrily bubbling creek – easily the best spot on the whole camp site. I later learned, that there was a reunion of some sorts, with a big party coming up the other night. Luckily for me, I would be long gone by then.