The Reality of Living In a Van Alone In the Arctic

Life on the road is a life of extremes. A constant back and forth between the greatest adventures and the mundane. The highest of highs and of course the lows. And in a place like the Arctic, all of those things are intensified. The joy of climbing a mountain at midnight and it's still light. And the many dull grey days, feeling like I'll never see the sun again. I had this dream of driving to the Arctic and experiencing the midnight sun for years. And while I sometimes questioned my choice of coming here, over a summer of warmth and sunshine, this is the kind of place that does not leave you feeling indifferent. So day after day, I sat looking out my window and every time the rain let off, I would quickly pack my things and hike up the nearest north-facing peak, in search of the midnight sun. Trails empty, skies clouded, I questioned my life choices every night, when I eventually scrambled back down to my van to sleep through yet another day by the trailhead. But I guess sometimes you have to spend 90% of your time doing difficult things for that 10% of magic. And I was convinced that if I just kept hiking up these mountains every night, it would pay off eventually. Then at some point, I started nearing the end of the midnight sun, and I still hadn't seen anything but cloud. I've been struggling a little bit, if I'm completely honest with you guys, because I haven't seen the sun since I crossed the Arctic Circle. And I kind of feel like I'm getting seasonal depression, but it's summer, which is super weird. And if you watched my last video, the last time I saw the sun was when I hiked up that glacier before crossing the Arctic Circle, and the sun came out for like half an hour. So I've had like half an hour of sunshine in the last 10 days, and the last proper sunny day was like a couple of weeks ago when I was still in Sweden. So yeah, it's been an adjustment, let's say, and the fact that I'm sleeping in the day and awake at night is not really helping, because when it's as cloudy and gloomy as it is now, it still gets kind of dark during the night, even with the midnight sun. And I just kind of fell into a hole when I arrived here, and I was ready to leave after a couple of days. But it is very beautiful here, even in the gloomy weather, and I'm very stubborn about wanting to experience the midnight sun, because it's a big bucket list item for me. So I'm just going to push through and deal with the weather. I never expected the weather to be good here. I always knew that, you know, the blue sky pictures you see are completely unrealistic, because this is the Arctic after all. But I didn't expect it to be this harsh and this gloomy, and I've been speaking to some locals who told me that this summer is particularly rainy and moody, so maybe I got a bit unlucky as well. I feel like when you travel full-time, you're just bound to get unlucky like that sometimes, so I'm going to make the most of it and explore Lofoten and go on lots of hikes here. I've got a week of midnight sun left, so hopefully I'm going to be able to spot it during my time here. I want to try it though. So I've been wanting to recreate a traditional dish from Lofoten called fiskersuppe, which is essentially arctic fish soup, and I've been really wanting to make a plant-based version of it, and for that I needed king oyster mushrooms, which I found in the supermarket here, and then I read that the best way to recreate the fish taste is with sugar kelp, and I just happened to be parked a few minutes from a seaweed shop here in Lofoten, and I went there and tasted a lot of their seaweed products. They're all locally harvested and produced, which is just so cool, and I managed to get my hands on a bag of sugar kelp, which I'm going to use for this recipe. At that point, I hadn't seen the sun in what felt like years, and when you wild camp full-time in a van that runs off solar, that's not just gloomy, it can be a countdown and eventually force you to drive to an expensive campsite. In those situations, you often have to start rationing and decide between charging your laptop and running your fridge, for example, but luckily I haven't had to do any of that thanks to my Bluetti Elite 200 V2. They're kindly sponsoring this episode, and my van has been running on Bluetti products the entire time I've lived here, and they've given me the capacity to do all the things I want to do, whatever the weather. This power station has two plug sockets, which are connected to extension leads, so I can have all of my devices plugged in permanently, and it also has USB-A and USB-C outlets. Now the very clever thing about this system is the alternator charger. Every time Frodo drives, the engine is topping the battery's backup at about 30% per hour, so every time I drive between hikes, park-ups, and chores, I'm not just getting to places, but also making sure I don't run out of power, even without sunshine. Bluetti have lots of camper van power station promotions on their website right now, and you can get 5% off with my code BLUETTIJESSICA. Trying to cook with local ingredients in a remote place like the Arctic is really interesting, because not many things grow here, and most produce you see at the supermarket is imported. I've been seeing a lot of mushrooms on my walk, so I figured that those paired with root vegetables and cream would be the closest I could get to the authentic recipe, and of course fresh dill, which is very popular here. The best way to use oyster mushrooms as a meat or fish replacement is to cook them without any oil to remove the moisture, and it will give them a pretty convincing texture, while cooking everything else in seaweed will give it a bit of a fishy taste. I thought it would take me ages to cook this meal, but it was actually really easy and quick to prepare, which I was very grateful for. I may have gone a bit overboard on the dill, but we'll see. No, not at all. This is so good. This is exactly the kind of warming and comforting dish I needed in this terrible weather. It's another very gloomy and dreary, drizzly day today, and I think we're now at the point where it's been raining so much that the trails are quite muddy and slippery, so I'm not sure it's safe to go on a hike tonight, and it's not like the sun is about to come out anyway. So I think I'm going to do something I don't normally do, and drive to town and explore town. I don't mind towns, it's just not what I would choose to do with my time normally, but I feel like I haven't seen the sun in such a long time. I need some version of retail therapy. I'm just going to look at some pretty colourful things. I read that there's a very famous chippy in town, and also a famous bakery, so I think I'm going to have some local fish and chips, followed by a vegan cinnamon roll, and maybe that will cheer me up a little bit. My town visit was pretty successful. I do feel a lot better now. I had some really nice chats with small business owners, I went on a nice walk with Heidi. She's soaking wet now, but she had a great time. I had a cinnamon bun, I had a cardamom roll, and an apricot roll. So I had a pretty good sugar rush this afternoon, and I also got myself a little souvenir. I don't usually buy stuff, but look at this really cute mug. I'm going to treasure it, and yeah, I feel very happy. I wasn't going to buy it, but then I was thinking about it all day because it's just so pretty, and then before I left, I went back into the shop and bought it. And most importantly, I checked the weather report, and apparently, allegedly, there is sunshine up north. So I'm going to drive an hour up north and see if the sun is actually there, because that would just be such a nice way to end this day. Although Norway has weather reports for every individual mountain, they're often still completely wrong, as I was about to find out, because shortly after I left on my hike, I was hit with 60 mile wind gusts instead of the 15 that were forecast. The wind was so strong, it nearly blew me off my feet a couple of times, so I had to turn back and call it a day just a mile into my hike. It's one o'clock in the morning now, and we are back from a very windy and very unsuccessful summit attempt. You probably can't hear it through the camera, but the wind is howling outside and the van is shaking. So the gusts must be at least 50 miles or something, and it was freezing outside. I just had a hot shower and I'm feeling a lot better. I'm trying to remain positive, but I'm getting really bored of this weather, and the next couple of days are going to be stormy as well. So tomorrow is probably going to be another town day, and then I'm gonna go out in the night again in a couple of days. It's going to be the last night of midnight sun, so hopefully I'm going to be lucky then. You're very good with the sheepies, aren't you? You're very good with the sheepies. You don't run after them. That's very good. Okay guys, I want to talk about something which some people might find a bit controversial, but I feel like I really want to talk about it, and maybe also have a responsibility to do it. So the last couple of days I was doing a bit more stuff in the daytime and visiting towns, and for the first time I saw the extent of camper van tourism in this area. And I knew it was a bit busy, but nothing prepared me for what I saw. The place was absolutely overrun, and it wasn't even camper vans. Most of the vehicles I saw were really, really large motorhomes, like seven to ten meter motorhomes. Many of them were double the length of my van. And you have to imagine that Lofoten is a chain of small islands with tiny fishing villages, and most of them are on the main road. A lot of people live on the main road. And yeah, every other vehicle seemed to be a large motorhome, and I just felt so sorry for the residents here, because I just can't imagine having so much traffic on my doorstep. You know, the roads were very busy. I had a few potentially dangerous situations while driving, where a motorhome would come towards me and just drive in the middle of the road, and completely unable to stay in their lane on these pretty tiny roads. And then I get into town, and so many residents had to put signs in their driveways for camper vans not to park there, because evidently people had tried to do that before. And still, I saw so many vans parked opposite or near houses, which you're not supposed to do. You're supposed to stay at least like 150 meters away. And disrespecting Leave No Trace, taking up three spots in car parks, which were very busy, and it just makes me really uncomfortable. You know, it makes me really sad to see that. I totally acknowledge that I'm part of the problem, because I live in a van, and I share about my life online. But my intention has always been to inspire people to live a simpler life, with less resources, close to nature, looking after nature, and respecting Leave No Trace. And I feel like there's a part of, I wouldn't even call it van life, but like a travel trend of buying bigger and bigger and bigger RVs, and really spreading out. There's been a few occasions, especially in Scandinavia, where I get to a wild camping spot, and there's a really large motorhome taking up the space that could fit three camper vans. But they've spread out with an awning, with tables and chairs, and not really giving other people an opportunity to enjoy the space, you know. And I see that happening more and more. And I really don't want to imply that I'm better than anyone else because I'm driving a smaller van. Absolutely not. And I used to live in a big van with my partner. We were wild camping full-time, and we did feel like we were in the way sometimes. And that's one of the reasons that we decided to convert to smaller vans, that we can park independently. And I guess I just want to encourage people to think about how much space do I really need, and what impact is that going to have. And some people are going to need more space, especially if they live in their van full-time, and that's absolutely fair. I think it's also important to think about, am I actually able to safely drive a large vehicle? And am I able to park it? How is that going to affect other people again? And yeah, this might be a bit controversial, but I think if you're already driving a large vehicle for whatever reason, and you feel the need to spread out a lot further beyond that vehicle, you should pay for that privilege at a campsite. There, I said it. And I feel like when people act in inconsiderate ways, like blocking spaces for other people, dumping their trash in their chemical toilets, I've seen it all. That's the reason locals are so fed up. And I think it's important to remember that ultimately, locals have the power to ban camper vans from going to places, and parking in places. And if we want to keep enjoying this lifestyle, we're going to have to act respectfully, leave no trace, respect other people's space, and most importantly, respecting locals' place, because they live here, it's their home. And we are lucky to be able to visit their home, but yeah, we just have to act in a way that doesn't make people's lives more difficult. I don't like being in places where I feel like I'm contributing to a problem, you know? So I've made the decision that the kindest thing I can do for nature and the local communities here, is to leave Lofoten and go somewhere with less people and less tourism. It's a bit of a shame, because the weather is supposed to clear up next week, but I have a feeling that it's going to get even busier when that happens. So I think leaving is the right decision. Before leaving, I wanted to attempt one last mountain, because the sun was actually forecast to come out right around midnight at this location. And after making it halfway up the mountain on very muddy terrain, with my feet soaking wet, an icy wind picked up, and my final chance of spotting the midnight sun disappeared in the clouds. So I decided that the safest thing to do was to turn back. But to be honest, I was actually fine with that. I am done. I've only ever had to turn back on a hike three times in my entire life, and I've had to do it twice this week, because the conditions were just so difficult. And the hike I just attempted is supposed to be one of the easier ones on this island, and let me tell you, I was not having a good time. And I consider myself a pretty experienced hiker. I've through-hiked the Scottish Highlands, I hiked pretty much everywhere in the Alps, and yeah, it was very, very muddy and difficult. Heidi wasn't having a good time either, and when your spaniel stops having a good time, that's when you know it's time to turn back. But I am really proud of myself for going out nearly every night and hiking up a mountain. And now that the midnight sun is over, I am finally giving myself permission to leave and go somewhere that's less busy and has better weather. I came here to see the midnight sun, and I never saw it. Day after day of hiking through rain and cloud, the sky never once opened for me. I think a year ago, I would have given up a lot earlier. And while the places we dream about can sometimes disappoint us, I realised that I didn't mind anymore. Because after many a trail and sleepless night, what I found instead of the midnight sun was the version of me that kept climbing anyway, no matter how many times I failed. And to me, that's worth a lot more than a perfect being. Oh my goodness guys, you will not believe what I'm seeing right in front of me.