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Typically, on a Wednesday, I’d already be asleep by midnight – and you might assume the same would be true of the three children playing on the beach a few metres away from me. But up here above the Arctic Circle, I am fast discovering, midnight does not necessarily mean bedtime.
It’s early July and I’m in Sommaroy, an old Norwegian fishing village 22 miles west of Tromso. Even in the early hours, the painted wooden houses, steep mountains and bright blue sea are all in crystal-clear view. That’s because it has been about seven weeks since the sun last set. And it’ll be another two before it sets again.
Known, for obvious reasons, as the Midnight Sun, this period of continuous daylight lasts for 69 days on Sommaroy, from May 18 to July 26, allowing locals and visitors to enjoy its white-sand shorelines at all hours of the day and night, should they so choose.
Winter brings the opposite extreme during “polar night”, during which the sun remains below the horizon for several weeks and daylight is reduced to just a few hours of twilight. Gruelling for locals, perhaps, but perfect conditions for visitors hoping to catch a glimpse of the elusive Northern Lights.
This long, disorientating summer helped turn Sommaroy into an international curiosity in 2019, when the island made headlines for trying to become the world’s first “time-free zone”. Residents were said to want freedom from conventional opening hours and rigid routines during the weeks when morning, afternoon and night become difficult to distinguish.
It all sounds very dramatic, but the reality was rather less extreme. The campaign was largely orchestrated by Norway’s tourism authorities, with the much-reported petition attracting limited local support. As one local put it to me: “That was just a stunt. We all still have jobs, of course we need time!”
Yet walking around Sommaroy at midnight, the thinking behind it feels less ridiculous than it sounds. Children are still up playing, a few people are out walking, and I have a strange disinclination to go to bed.
Earlier that day, I had hired a car in Tromso for the drive west. The most direct route takes around an hour and 15 minutes, streaking across the northern side of Kvaloya, an island to the east of Sommaroy. This had been my original plan, until the previous evening, when a local I met in a pub suggested turning the journey into a loop, following the quicker northern road to Sommaroy, then returning along the island’s southern coast. In between promising me “the tastiest Norwegian frozen cod” to carry home on my flight, he assured me this was the best way to see the island.
It was sage advice. The road followed fjords, passed through broad valleys and ran beside verges crowded with tall purple wildflowers and oversized daisies. Not long after leaving Tromso, I had to stop as several reindeer wandered across the road. It was the first time I had seen one up close, and I felt the childlike buzz that comes with spotting a big, wild animal.
They were also a reminder that life here has long been organised around the seasons. Across Troms County, reindeer husbandry remains a traditional livelihood for the Arctic indigenous groups like the Sámi, with herds moved between different grazing areas throughout the year.
My loop did eventually continue onto – and across – Kvaloya, one of Norway’s largest islands. Sea eagles are known to circle above its mountains and coastline during spring and summer, so I kept an eye out as I drove, although none appeared. It wasn’t long before I had to stop my car again so a family of oystercatchers could cross; watching with hitched breath as the adult led three tiny, fluffy chicks in single file into the open road and, eventually, onto the safety of the opposite bank.
The final approach to Sommaroy was across a narrow bridge, with open water on either side and the village gathered ahead. I arrived – ravenous – and headed to Prestvika Café, one of only two options I could see on the map.
The small wooden café sat between a crescent beach and a row of houses. Inside, chalk boards directed me to a table covered with cakes and pastries and two large pots of soup. I helped myself to a creamy broth filled with cod and leeks, added a slice of homemade rye bread, and carried everything outside to eat on a rock beside the beach. I went back for a cinnamon bun and coffee, then returned to the same spot to watch a red-billed Arctic tern dive into the shallows again and again on the hunt for fish. I got talking to Claudia, an employee at Sommaroy Arctic Hotel, and asked her whether the endless daylight ever bothered her. Originally from Poland, she shrugged, unfazed.
“You get used to it,” she said. “Sometimes I go hiking at night. It’s easier after I finish work around 11 or 12. People definitely do more activities outside in the summer. You might get people kayaking, or maybe there’ll be a game of football.”
Sommaroy may be quiet, but I can certainly see why people from other parts of the Continent are drawn to it. It’s long been the case: the name itself means “Summer Island”, dating from a time when most local people lived on neighbouring Hillesoya and brought their cattle here to graze during the warmer months. Sommaroy only began developing into the area’s main fishing village around the turn of the 20th century, when motorised boats created the need for an improved harbour.
Today, Hillesoya is also known for its hiking. A short but steep route climbs Hillesoytoppen, from the summit of which walkers can look back towards Sommaroy and across the water to the islands of sprawling Senja and unpopulated Haja, which rises from the inky water like a huge rocky scone, thought (by some) to have inspired the angular shape of Tromso’s stunning Arctic Cathedral.
I chose to skip the summit and head, instead, for Lyngoya Beach – where I met a couple searching for shells at the water’s edge – then slipped beyond a row of wooden houses and followed a rough path onto the grassy slopes above the shore. The ground was soft and damp beneath my feet as I picked my way over the uneven land towards the water, eventually reaching a clear view back across to Sommaroy.
By the time I returned to the beach, “nighttime” was approaching. The couple were still collecting shells, now with a couple of beers in hand and a blanket laid out close by. Sommaroy never did abolish time – but with no sunset to send you home, it’s easy to see why the idea travelled so far.
Essentials
SAS and Norwegian both fly from London to Tromso: direct in winter, and connecting via Oslo in summer (returns from £79).
To reach Sommaroy from Tromso, hire a car or take the dedicated summer tourist shuttle (the Arctic Route, booked via Best Arctic, which also runs tours) or a local public bus.
Sommaroy Arctic Hotel has standard double rooms from £124. Activities can also be booked at the hotel.
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