January 2020: just before the world first heard of a mysterious virus emerging in China, I arrived in Fleinvær, a scattered archipelago of 380 desolate islands in the Norwegian Arctic. It had taken fifty hours on planes, trains and boats to reach this sunless, cold wilderness which felt like the edge of the world. I didn’t know it yet but Coronavirus was about to bring the world to a standstill and it would be nearly half a year before I left. This is the story of my unusual quarantine as Caretaker of The Arctic Hideaway.
What is the Arctic Hideaway?
The Arctic Hideaway is not your typical hotel. It is an experiment in alternative living and a retreat for artists, writers and musicians to escape the busyness of everyday life. It is the vision of Håvard Lund, a professional jazz musician, who boasts a childlike idealism that doesn’t see limitations; when the water pipes froze, his solution was to drink beer and tell the guests it was ‘island life‘.
As the only member of staff on the island, caretaker roles varied from the ordinary aspects of running a hotel such as doing laundry and welcoming guests, to the more unique such as ordering the food which was delivered by boat each fortnight and operating the water-maker which converted seawater to drinking water.
Life on Fleinvær
Fleinvær feels like a raft that’s drifting out to sea from the Norwegian Coast. Most of the islands are bare lumps of rock a few metres above sea level. Some disappear altogether at high tide, others have ramshackle fishing huts and colourful cabins clinging to the thin topsoil.
I lived on Sørvær (South Island) which, at 1.2 kilometres-long and with a lofty 42-metre hill, is one of the biggest islands. A ferry tethered me to the mainland, but it only came if I emailed requesting it, and winter storms often made the narrow channels impassable. There are no roads, cars or shops on Fleinvær, so this boat also delivered my food once a fortnight.
Before arriving at The Arctic Hideaway I had been travelling widely but not deeply, as I rarely stayed in one place longer than a few weeks. Even though my world shrunk to a one-kilometre island, which I walked countless laps of, I still discovered something new and of interest on every lap. It was a reminder of the benefits of travelling slower.
This was especially so as I was lucky enough to watch winter become spring become summer. At this extreme latitude, the change of seasons was particularly pronounced. When I arrived the sun didn’t rise, and when I left it wouldn’t set for another six weeks.
Read about life at the Arctic Hideaway in winter, spring or summer.
The other advantage of travelling slower was to join the community that lived in Fleinvær. ‘There are eight people living in Fleinvær [among 383 islands] this winter,’ I was told as I arrived, ‘and that includes you.’ I had assumed anyone living here must be a bit reclusive, but I was wrong and soon welcomed into this community which included an artist, a trumpet-player, a violinist, a fisherman and a Candy Crush expert.
Read here: Meet my neighbours
