Chasing the Northern Lights in Lofoten
Arctic Light & the Aurora
Uttakleiv Beach, Hamnøy, and a Night Under the Northern Lights
Welcome to Lofoten — a place where the light is as unpredictable as it is beautiful. From a sunset at Uttakleiv Beach to a night under the Northern Lights at Hamnøy, this was one of those days that reminds you why you do this.
It was freezing cold. The sun was deceptive — bright and golden, but the wind cutting across the beach was bitter. I'd forgotten my gloves again. Classic Neil.
We were standing on a beach in Lofoten, the snow crunching beneath our boots, watching a tractor trundle across the sand in the distance. The destination: Uttakleiv Beach. The objective: photograph the sunset.
And what a sunset it was.
The Photographer's Dilemma
There's a famous shot at Uttakleiv — the "Dragon's Eye" they call it. It's the photograph everyone comes here to capture, and for good reason. It's beautiful. But that's the thing about popular locations: everyone takes the same picture.
So I made a decision. Instead of joining the crowd, I found my own spot. Low to the water, looking for a different angle.
The light was moving fast. Clouds were creeping in behind the mountains, threatening to kill the colour. There was no time to hesitate. I set up my tripod at the water's edge, composed the shot, and waited for the right moment.
Golden light, slow shutter speed, and the motion of the sea — this is what I came for.
That image — the one with the golden light catching the sides of the rocks, the slow shutter speed dragging the water into motion, the epic mountain backdrop — that's why photography means so much to me. It's not just about capturing a scene. It's about translating a feeling into pixels.
I'm thrilled with how it turned out. The light, the motion, the water — everything came together. That picture electrified my creativity. It reminded me why I do this.
Exploring the Beach
After a few shots, I wandered down the beach with Orla, hand in hand, looking for new foregrounds. The sun was moving fast behind the clouds, so we had to be quick. We found a nice set of rocks that worked as leading lines, set up, and rattled off loads of pictures.
The light was fading rapidly. By the time we'd found the composition, we were about twenty seconds too late to catch any light on the mountain peak. But that's the thing about photography — sometimes you win, sometimes you learn.
And the lesson here was valuable: location scouting pays off. Walking further down the beach allowed us to explore the scene deeper, to see what others were missing. The popular spot is popular for a reason, but the real magic often happens when you move away from the crowd.
Brendan bravely standing on the rocks — and almost falling into the water.
We got a good laugh watching Brendan stand on the rocks for a photograph — he almost fell into the water. Clambering across the rocks, photographing him as he teetered on the edge, was one of those moments you cherish. Not just for the image, but for the memory.
Exploring new compositions — the real joy of landscape photography.
Even without the golden light we'd hoped for, it was still a gorgeous scene. We waited a bit longer, hoping the clouds would break and bring out some colour in the sky. They didn't. But the exercise of exploring the beach, finding new compositions, and working with what we had — that was the real value of the evening.
The Northern Lights
Back at the lodge, word spread around the campfire: the aurora was happening. The forecast was good, but there was one problem — the cloud cover was heavy. It wasn't due to clear up until midnight.
So we waited.
It was now eight o'clock. We had a few hours to kill. We chilled out, had some dinner, and waited for the clouds to clear. It was going to be a long night. But hopefully, it would be worth it.
And it was.
The aurora sweeping across the sky — no two frames are ever the same.
I've been super lucky to have seen the Northern Lights a good handful of times now. But it never ceases to amaze me. The display that night was absolutely incredible. Green ribbons sweeping across the sky, hints of blue and purple, moving so fast that no two frames were the same.
I almost captured a perfect heart shape in the aurora. A split second too slow. That's the thing about the Northern Lights — they don't wait for you. You have to be ready, in position, and firing away. The next two pictures were taken within half a second of each other, and the difference in the aurora's shape is huge. That's the beauty of photographing the Northern Lights — every image is unique. Like capturing the ocean, every frame is individual.
The aurora shifting — one frame, then the next.
Half a second later — completely different.
I wouldn't go crazy about the compositions of these particular shots — pointing the camera up at a sky full of green and purple doesn't always make for a strong image. But being there, watching it happen, capturing that moment — that's what matters.
Hamnøy and the Meteor
Later that night, we made our way to Hamnøy. Another iconic Lofoten location, but this time under the aurora. The display was absolutely on fire. I'd never seen the Northern Lights like this before. The blues, the greens, the intensity — it was incredible.
Hamnøy under the aurora — blues, greens, and absolute magic.
There was a moment during the time-lapse — a meteor shot across the frame. I let out a scream of "Oh my god!" and had to wait until the time-lapse finished before I could check if it was captured. It was. Absolutely overjoyed.
On a technical note, this image is a blend. The street lamps in the village create a challenge — you have to balance the artificial light with the aurora. Capturing a few different exposures helps you achieve that balance. Even with the slightly blown-out highlights in the lamps, I think it adds to the natural feel of the scene.
The aurora has its peaks and troughs. There was a small downtime between the main display and the time-lapse you just saw. The lesson? If you arrive at a new location, it's always worth sitting and waiting — just in case the lights decide to come back. On this particular night, they really, really did.
A Cautionary Tale
I'm popping this into the end of the blog because it's important. I lost files. If you can believe that.
It happens. It's a cautionary tale for all of us.
After this trip, I had exported everything, backed everything up, and then they all disappeared. Total disaster. Thankfully, I was able to recover the video files — good news — but the last day and a half of images are gone. The light had really played ball that day, and I had some beautiful images from a sunrise at Nusfjord. But they're gone.
Nusfjord at sunrise — one of the images I lost, but the memory remains.
It's a real shame. But these things happen. So please, please, please back up your files. Make sure they're safe. Don't learn this lesson the hard way like I did.
As I record this from the present day, I'm sitting here in a flowery shirt, thinking about the images I lost and the memories I still have. The video you're about to watch is the result of what I was able to recover.
It's not perfect, but it's honest.
Welcome to all the new subscribers and the new people on Instagram. I hope you get some value out of this rambling Irish man. Lots of stuff to edit, lots of stuff to go through. Stay tuned.
If you liked the video, give it a like. And if you want to follow along for more adventures like this one, hit that subscribe button. It costs nothing and it makes a huge difference to a small channel like mine.
But for now, take it easy, everyone. Cheers.
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