Forget the cold - Norway's Arctic summer will change how you travel

As I peel back the heavy curtains, my room floods with golden morning light. The sun sits low on the horizon, casting long shadows on the rounded mountains of Litle Hjartoya, the islet buffering downtown Bodo from the tumbling Norwegian Sea. A passenger ferry coasts by, fracturing the ocean's mirror surface as it pushes north towards Lofoten. It's the only sign of life in an otherwise still city. Groggy, I rub my eyes and check the clock; it's 2.45am.

When I went to bed four hours earlier, the sun was at the same level. Above the Arctic Circle in Norway, the summertime sun never drops below the land and sky divide. It's the flip side of the more familiar polar night, a phenomenon that drives most assumptions about this part of the world. It's fair, given that googling "the Arctic" yields results dominated by icebergs, polar bears and snowy wilderness. Mid-year, the reality of Arctic Norway couldn't be more different.

As I round the corner into Bodo sentrum, the dull thud of bass reverberates in my chest. It's coming from Pangea Kitchen & Bar, where locals gather in the beer garden like sunflowers, angled face-to-sun for maximum vitamin D. Though it's noon on a Thursday, central Bodo's alfresco areas are heaving. I toy with joining the crowds but head harbourside instead, ready to dive head-first into Norwegian culture. Swimming, sunbathing, and saunas are par for the course in weather like this. So, I take the plunge, the water's icy bite propelling me into the toasty embrace of Pust Sauna.

Day turns to night without any visual clue. The sun is still high, and my growing hunger is the only indication that it's nearing dinner time. In a game of musical chairs, I bounce from one alfresco to the next until I'm scrambling for one of Lystpa's last light-bathed seats. I soak up the evening rays over a bowl of traditional seafood-laden fiskesuppe, a dish on every summer menu and a culinary celebration of the bountiful oceans and fjords in the region.

"Change into your woollens, and meet me at the shed for suits, snorkels and fins." In all my years of snorkelling, it's the first time I've heard such directives. It comes with the territory, though; the 13 Saltstraumen fjord is no match for my Indian Ocean-acclimatised limbs. With five minutes of brute force pushing and pulling, I'm compressed from forehead to foot in a skin-tight hood, drysuit, gloves and boots, ready to snorkel in the Arctic.

Borghild Viem, divemaster at Saltstraumen's Nord & Ne, leads the charge, sliding off the side of the RIB and into the fjord's famous current. We're well clear of the dizzying maelstroms that form in the rush of the twice-daily tide change, drifting along the shoreline at speed thanks to the buoyant drysuits. Above water, rolling green farmland rushes by. Below it, I'm in the thick of a magical seaweed forest.

The long kelp tendrils dance in the current like palms in the breeze, minuscule nudibranchs and ruffled sea hares clinging to its fronds. They're easy to miss as we float by, but Viem's trained eye spots them with ease. She doesn't stop there, pointing out hermit crabs, urchins and various species of sea snails, too. Catching a flash of orange deep in the thick weed, I bring myself to a stop. Pushing it aside, it reveals a sea star so obscenely large it's a wonder it managed to conceal itself at all.

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As I leave Bodo's deep fjord, the water takes a turn for the Maldivian. From the Bodo to Nordskot ferry's open-air deck, I begin tallying the Bombay-blue coves we pass. Before the hour-and-a-half journey is up, I lose count. They're everywhere, bookended not by palms but by towering greenery-covered crags. To see them more closely, I board a tender from Nordskot to Manshausen, where I join Lottie Rouse, one of the island's staff guides, on a kayaking tour. The water is glassy and still as we paddle between islets, affording us an unaided view of the razor clams, sea stars, and urchins covering the sea bed metres below. Navigating the dense archipelago takes two hours, during which we remain entirely alone.

It's only at the top of Grotoya, one of the larger islands, that we meet another group. They're crouched in the mountain scrub, photographing the hundreds of fledgling cloudberries, Scandinavia's most prized and expensive fruit. Their deep pinkish-red is a stark contrast against the islands' dominant blue, green and white palette. Behind the waving stems, in the distance, the unmistakable, wall-like silhouette of the Lofotveggen mountain chain stretches out into the sea. It's still sporting remnants of its white winter coat, a visual reminder that, despite all appearances, this is indeed the Arctic.

Getting there: Qantas and Virgin fly from Sydney and Melbourne to Oslo via Dubai or Doha. From Oslo, take a connecting flight to Bodo (85 minutes). Hire a car at the airport on arrival.

Staying there: Make the waterfront Scandic Havet your base in Bodo. Rooms from 1200NOK ($170) a night. For a quintessential Norwegian experience, head out of town to one of Manshausen's seaside cabins (from 3200NOK per night). scandichotels.no; manshausen.no

While there: At Pust Sauna, drop-in bookings are $18 an adult. Book a fjord snorkelling tour with Nord & Ne for $140 each. See Manshausen by kayak on a two-hour guided tour, from $495. pust.io; nordogne.no; manshausen.no

Explore more: visitnorway.com

The writer travelled at her own expense.

Pictures: Monique Ceccato; Vebjorn Karlsen