Northern Norway by Self-Built Van: Lemmijoki and Silfar Canyon

The van trip continues. Right now, I’m typing on my computer in a small village in Northern Norway, surrounded by snow-capped mountains. We got stuck here just over a week ago when the van broke down and barely managed to crawl into the yard of a small repair shop. I’ll share more about that later, but for now, we’re enjoying our stay in a cabin at the local nature center while we wait for the van to remain in the repair shop for another week.

It seems my writings are turning out to be quite lengthy. There are many photos and stories, but I enjoy sharing what happens during the journey and describing all the incredible nature and beauty I get to witness here.

So grab a cup of coffee, find a comfortable spot, and come along with me as we travel along the mountain roads and blue fjords of Northern Norway.

The Finnish border is left behind after making some food purchases at the village store in Nuorgam. Ahead unfolds the Norwegian countryside, with beautifully maintained log houses and mountain streams flowing down from the still snow-capped peaks behind some slushy rain. This marks the beginning of our journey through Norway, which would continue throughout all of Northern Norway.

We drive along the fjords named after various natural features along the Arctic Ocean coast. On the other side of the bright, cold water, we can see the road we’ll be taking in half an hour in the opposite direction. There aren’t many other roads. Charming, colorful little villages cling to the slopes of the mountains, precisely at the spots where the foundations of the houses just fit.

On a small flat patch of land by the fjord, someone has let the sheep out for their spring outing. We watch their joyful frolicking across the little pasture during our lunch break. They, too, have beautiful scenery to enjoy and a reason to be happy.

Winter hasn’t quite left this place yet. The sun shines with a spring warmth, but the snowbanks on the shoulders of the road are over a meter high. The road rises higher as we drive along the mountain plateau, where flat snow valleys stretch from horizon to horizon. Nothing else is visible for tens, if not hundreds, of kilometers.

We drive through the days, stopping only for a small lunch break and at night. After a week, it becomes tiring, but we continue nonetheless. The weather is still poor—rainy, snowy, and cold. It quickly becomes clear that May in Northern Norway isn’t very spring-like, although it is incredibly beautiful. After more than six months of winter, my mind craves warmth and the golden light of summer.

Short day walks and windy breaks by the sea clear my mind and help me keep going.

At Lemmijoki, known as Lakselv in Norway, we stop for a longer moment to get some fresh air. One of Norway’s main roads, the E6, runs through the village. Along the way, there’s a rest area and a marked hiking trail with a viewpoint to Silfar Canyon, which we hadn’t heard of before. Apparently, not many others had either, as the road beside the canyon is deserted and the path leading to the canyon is very snowy and untrodden.

In May, many hiking trails and paths in Northern Norway are inaccessible due to the soft, melting snow, including the path to Silfar Canyon. However, we stubbornly set out to wade through the snow in our rubber boots, which inevitably become soaked in the depths of the snow that reaches nearly to our thighs.

"We’ll go just over that ridge," we decide to continue, taking small steps, as the sound of rushing water echoes from behind the numerous snowy ridges. At times, the sun has managed to melt the edges of the slopes, making our steps light and quick on the soft willow mounds.

Soon, the source of the noise becomes clear. The canyon opens up with a dizzyingly steep cliff face plunging down for tens of meters. Somewhere below, a torrent of brilliantly turquoise water rushes and churns along the rock walls it has carved over time.

Looking down is dizzying, even for someone who isn’t afraid of heights. The soft mound that seems inviting beneath my feet turns out to be a ledge, its underside already crumbling into a whirlpool below. Something pulls the eyes downward into the canyon—perhaps its breathtaking height, or maybe the magically clear and rushing water.

The path winds right along the edge of the canyon. Apparently, Norwegians aren’t fond of safety cables or railings. We peek over the edge as much as feels safe. It is breathtakingly beautiful!

As we look down, our already wet rubber boots become even wetter, and we know we won’t get them dry for many days in the cold van. Let it be.

Wading through the snow and chasing the seemingly impossible warmth of spring brings renewed hope when I spot the first coltsfoot peeking through the wet, snowy ground. Spring will prevail yet.

For the night, we drive to the edge of Stabbursdalen National Park, also known as Rautusvuoma. The plan was to go hiking there the next day, but we can't even reach the national park parking lot by car. Deep, wet snow covers the road leading in. Someone has even left their four-wheel drive on the thawed ground and continued on foot. It wouldn’t be wise to venture there with the van, even though we have to give up our visit to the national park.

Instead, we set up to cook dinner next to the national park as the sun makes another pass over the mountains. We’re already quite tired, but we double-check that camping in unmarked areas within national parks in Norway is prohibited. Neither by car nor otherwise. Our journey must continue a little longer.

We continue driving aimlessly along the main road. Looking at the map, there aren’t many other places to detour. Somewhere at the back of Porsangerfjord, we find a decent-sized pull-off—a nighttime salvation for van travelers. Exhausted, we park the car there in the early hours of the morning without thinking much more about it and doze off immediately in the cold van.

In the morning, I wake up to the first warmth I’ve felt during the trip. I open the side door to bright sunshine reflecting off the blue water of the fjord below. I step barefoot onto a rocky ledge, as almost all my shoes and socks are wet from last week’s snowy trek. The breathtaking view of the fjord unfolds before me. The warmth of the sun feels incredibly good.

When I return from my morning sunbathing session to the van, E has started preparing breakfast. From the "kitchen" window, we have a direct view down to the fjord. I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed breakfast in such a beautiful setting.

We decide to take the long-awaited break at this spot. The unhurried morning in the sun and warmth feels wonderful. We spread our wet clothes and shoes on the rocks to dry in the sun and relax for a moment.

The van feels cozy and comfortable, even though it looks like it’s been ransacked by a gang. Sometimes, that’s just how it is at home.

We continue our journey once the human batteries are recharged and the rubber boots have dried on the rocks. How long that took, I can’t say. The sun circles this side of the sky almost every hour of the day, so the time doesn’t matter. There’s no rush. That’s the purpose of this trip.

The journey continues toward the breathtakingly rugged mountains of the Lyngenfjord and the turquoise waters of the fjord. And waterfalls, oh, how magnificent the waterfalls are.

I’ll be back with those soon! Lots of hugs and the warmth of spring. It’s wonderful to have you here with me.

♥ Sanna