That time we (almost) lost our best friend to the Norwegian Fjords
Lofoten Islands, Norway
Flash forward: the almost-tragedy
Picture the three of us perched on a Norwegian cliff—me, my wife Alizée, and a few steps behind us, my best friend Samir, whose sweet tooth is legendary (he once ate an entire box of bomboloni in one sitting, no joke). The view is so epic it feels unreal—like I’m staring at a painting come to life. Then Samir casually mentions he just puked. We half-laugh in disbelief and assume he’s kidding—after all, who jokes about throwing up while you’re basically on top of the world?
Turns out, he wasn’t kidding.
But let’s rewind to where this story really began.
The lead-up: how a single email sparked everything
April 15, 2019: Alizée’s fateful link
My wife, Alizée, sends me a li nk with photos of the Lofoten Islands in Norway. You know those pictures that look so impossibly majestic you suspect some wizard conjured them up? It was that kind of scene—towering mountain peaks rising out of turquoise waters, fishermen’s cabins perched on stilts, and a sun that might not set.
I’m instantly hooked. “We have to go,” I tell Alizée. She’s all, “Yalla, bye—say no more,” and the plan wheels start turning.
Context: My Microsoft gig & connection to Norway
Quick aside: I work at Microsoft, in product development. Most of my team is based in Oslo 🇳🇴. That’s how the Norwegian bug first bit me; I was flying there quarterly for work and slowly absorbing bits of their language, culture, and fascination with the great outdoors.
So, logistically, using a work trip in August to bounce over to Lofoten seemed… well, brilliant. The plan: align this big Lofoten adventure with my August work trip, so we can seamlessly transition from ‘Office in Oslo’ to ‘Motorhome in the wilderness.’
Early June: Plans get real
By June 6 2019, I finally pin down the exact dates for my next work trip. Cue me telling Alizée, “Alright, let’s book it. Let’s do this.”
A friend (probably some ultra-healthy Norwegian colleague) had bragged that in Norway you can literally park your camper anywhere on public land. My eyes lit up with visions of free-range camping on remote mountain roads.
Alizée, the meticulous trip-planner, starts mapping out an hour-by-hour schedule. She’s basically NASA Mission Control for our trip. I just keep nodding and thinking about how I’m going to roast marshmallows at midnight in the Arctic Circle.
Plot twist: Inviting Samir & Yulia
We email our best friends, Samir and Yulia, in Toronto. We half-expect a polite refusal. After all, they’re not exactly “camp in the middle of nowhere” types.
Days pass… no response. We follow up. Still crickets. Then finally, Samir says he’s IN—but without Yulia. I can almost hear the conflict in his email: “Yes, I’m coming. I promise. (But also, help!)”
We’re pumped—Samir’s never done anything like this. He’s an accountant by trade: spreadsheets, neat corners, scheduled lunch breaks. The thought of him roughing it in a big ol’ motorhome is equal parts hilarious and exciting. We officially book a “big mama” motorhome, plan our route from Tromsø down the chain of Lofoten Islands to a village called Å (this is literally the last letter of the Norwegian alphabet, and the last village at the tip of the Lofoten chain).
Chapter 1: Our first day & that mini-flood
We pick up the motorhome in Tromsø, get ourselves settled, and by evening Samir and I whip up a gourmet dinner inside our “big mama” RV. Alizée, generous soul that she is, offers to do dishes—only to turn on the faucet and unleash a small tsunami all over the motorhome floor. Turns out the main kitchen sink pipe wasn’t connected at all. I quickly jerry-rig a fix, mop up, and we crash for the night, exhausted but relieved we hadn’t drowned in our own motorhome on day one.
Husfjellet hike
The next morning, we drive out to our first real hike Husfjellet on Senja. It's around 8 km round trip (~5 hours), moderate difficulty, but the views are anything but moderate. Think towering peaks, shimmering fjords, and air so crisp it feels like it’s scrubbing your lungs clean.
We lace up our brand-new hiking boots—Samir included—giddy to finally hit the trails. About an hour in, I realize Samir’s no longer behind me. We pause, and a moment later, he strolls up, joking, “Don’t wait for me, I just puked!” Alizée and I exchange a look—Is he serious or just messing with us? He insists we go on; he’ll keep his own pace.
Moments later, he’s perfectly fine, cracking jokes and looking like the same old Samir. We assume it’s just first-day jitters, plus maybe last night’s dinner weighing on him. Because how can you fret about a friend feeling “off” when you’re staring at the kind of fjord panorama that makes your soul do cartwheels? We snap photos, soak up the majesty, and head back down. If there was a warning sign, we totally missed it.
Chapter 2: Måtinden & the waste tank fiasco
We ferry from Senja to Andøya, chanting “Tunnelenn!” in our best mock Norwegian accent every time we burrow through another rock-carved tunnel. Yes, we’re easily amused.
Our second comedic fiasco? Me learning to drain the motorhome’s waste tank. Let’s just say, it doesn’t matter how many travel blogs you read—nothing prepares you for that smell. I strapped on rubber gloves like I was about to perform surgery, popped open the external valve, and instantly realized I’d underestimated the sheer… intensity of motorhome “leftovers.” Samir cheered me on from a safe distance, pinching his nose with one hand while filming me with his phone (typical). We laughed so hard that I nearly dropped the waste hose, which would’ve turned a disgusting situation into a total nightmare. By the time I finished, I was half proud, half traumatized, and Samir was in hysterics, calling it the highlight of his day.
Måtinden hike
But the real highlight is Måtinden: a moderate coastal hike boasting insane ocean views. Samir starts off slow—again—but after a few minutes of heavy breathing, he’s eager to keep going. This time, Alizée and I are the ones feeling a bit wiped, ready to call it a day—but Samir insists we keep going “just a bit farther” for a better vantage point. Turns out, he was right. That extra push led us to an expansive view of endless blue waters, rugged peaks, and seagulls screeching overhead. We’re in heaven, while Samir hums “Dance Monkey” on the way down like everything’s cool.
Chapter 3: Mannen, 7-Eleven devotion & a surprise sauna
Next stop: Lofoten. We’re living off 7-Eleven coffee and Soft Is, zigzagging through epic roads in our stick-shift motorhome. Samir, to my horror, sometimes corners like he’s driving a Porsche, and I have to remind him this thing’s top-heavy. We laugh, but seriously—yikes.
Mannen hike
The Mannen hike near Uttakleiv Beach is a short, sweet climb. Samir again has a tiny “episode” early on, then recovers in record time. We watch the sunset from a vantage point that looks Photoshopped—like we’re trespassing in someone’s desktop wallpaper.
Trevarefabrikken hotel
Back in Henningsvær, we stumble upon Trevarefabrikken hotel. It has a sauna with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the ocean. We do the heat-then-freezing-water-plunge ritual about three times, chatting with a Swedish lady who swims in lakes year-round. Samir and I grin like we’re so tough—meanwhile, I’m 90% sure my toes froze solid for a minute.
We cap the night with a fancy dinner (a serious upgrade from our motorhome dinners) and return for coffee in the morning, gazing at the water. Life’s perfect, right?
Chapter 4: Reinebringen—the steep beast
Reinebringen hike
Reinebringen is short but brutal. Think a 2 km stair-stepper from Hades, with a killer payoff: a panoramic view of fjords, fishing villages, and mountains that spike like dragon spines. Samir stops halfway up, looking nauseous again, waves us off, and says, “I’m good, just need a sec.” We’re clueless—assuming he’s just dealing with typical out-of-shape struggles.
At the summit, we soak in the kind of view you think only exists in postcards. Samir cracks a joke about needing a medal for all these hikes. We laugh, snap photos, and eventually descend. Not once do we suspect his body is literally warning him of clogged arteries.
The drive back & the shocking aftermath
By day six, we were spent—in the best possible way, caravanning back toward Tromsø in drizzly weather. Samir DJs our last drive, blasting “Dance Monkey” again—apparently Norway’s national anthem at this point.
We say goodbye at the airport, hugging, and with zero clue anything was wrong. Samir was as cheerful as ever, promising next time he’d be in better shape. Little do we know…
A few days later, Samir calls from Toronto. He can’t even walk across his living room without gasping for air. Doctors discover multiple clogged arteries. Those puke/breathlessness episodes? Micro heart attacks. My stomach drops—this friend I joked with about being out of shape was literally dancing on the edge.
Samir 2.0: the comeback
A few surgeries and lifestyle changes later, Samir transforms. He quits his accounting job, moves to Tulum with his wife Yulia, then hops to Lisbon, living the digital nomad dream. He often credits this trip as the final push—our ‘big mama’ motorhome fiascos and all—for shaking him awake.
We still look back and laugh at certain moments: 7-Eleven Soft Is, the water-faucet flood, me draining the waste tank. But behind the laughter is a massive sense of gratitude. Samir survived something that could’ve gone catastrophically wrong in the middle of nowhere.
Lessons & takeaways
Listen to your body, even on vacation: Vomiting after every climb might not be just “out of shape.”
Norway’s motorhome freedom is real: Expect epic drives, unlimited tunnel fun (“Tunnelenn!”), and the occasional plumbing crisis.
7-Eleven isn’t always… 7-Eleven: In Norway, it’s basically a gourmet pit stop. Trust me, “Soft Is” is worth planning your entire route around.
Hikes are life-changing: Sometimes literally. For Samir, they were near-deadly—but also the key to recognizing how precious life can be.
‘Yalla, Bye!’ Means embrace adventure: We’re all busy, life is short, and you never know when a trip might save someone’s life—or change it.
This trip was supposed to be about epic mountains, late-night sunsets, and a motorhome that doubles as a rolling apartment. It ended up revealing how fragile life is—and how quickly everything can change.
But hey, if you’re asking me whether I’d do it all over again, the answer is a big, fat YES. Just maybe next time, we’ll pack a defibrillator along with our hiking boots.
Yalla, bye!
The day-by-day cheat sheet
(If you actually want the bullet points without the heart palpitations…)
Day 1: Tromsø ➜ Sommarøy ➜ Ferry to Senja ➜ Overnight at Husøy
Day 2: Husøy ➜ Husfjellet Hike ➜ Ferry to Andøya
Day 3: Måtinden Hike ➜ Drive to Henningsvær
Day 4: Uttakleiv Beach & Mannen Hike ➜ Sauna at Trevarefabrikken, then dinner
Day 5: Reinebringen Hike ➜ Arctic Ocean swim (if you dare)
Day 6: Drive back to Tromsø in the rain, Samir DJ-ing
One more thing...
A note for Samir (and Yulia 😬)
Samir, if you’re reading this, you already know this trip was unforgettable—not just because of the hikes, the Soft Is, the sauna plunges, or the near-tragedies, but because of you.
You could have sat this one out. You could have let the long flights, the uncertainty of van life, or the idea of climbing mountains every single day convince you otherwise. But instead, you said yes. And in doing so, you gave us some of the best memories of our lives.
We laughed. We struggled up mountains. We chanted “Tunnelenn!” We watched sunrises from the road and ate Soft Is like it was a competitive sport. And somehow, despite literally experiencing micro heart attacks, you still pushed us to hike further, climb higher, and see more.
Looking back, maybe you were the one keeping us going all along.
So, my friend—thank you. For being there, for making this trip what it was, and for continuing to be the adventurous, hilarious, and (now much healthier) soul that you are.
Here’s to many more hikes, more Soft Is stops, and fewer near-death experiences.
Much love,
-karl
P.S. Yulia, I’m sorry. 😬