Photo: Mathia Pacenti / ©WanderNorway
The past is what we feel when a song brings us back in time. All the emotions return, sharp, vivid, anchored to an instant, a place, a face. Over the years, I’ve begun to realize how much the past has shaped my present. As time unfolds, gratitude blurs the hard lines, and the memories settle into something glowing, like light through mist. What once felt raw and overwhelming now carries a sweetness, especially when I listen to the music of my own struggle, my learning, my discovery.
There are mornings when I wake up, and all I need is a song, maybe something small, sparse guitar, a wind-chime, and in an instant I’m back in Helgeland.
Brønnøysund, one of the main towns, remains one of the places that did that most for me, gave me that sense of learning what beauty could mean, how wild and large the world could be, and how small I was, and how that smallness didn’t diminish me but invited me to open wider.
Photo: Kathrine Soergaard / www.nordnorge.com
Before Helgeland, I only knew Brønnøysund as a name on a map, or as the place that housed the national office for registering companies. Dry, distant, administrative.
Then I arrived. I learned that it is a town cradled between sea and sky, where the harbor mirrors the clouds, and mountains stand in water. Along the waterfront are the boats, nets, salt and spray, but also art, laughter, fishing shanties, small cafes where people know your name, or don’t, but make you feel included anyway. The air tastes of brine and promise. The fjords stretch east into inland arms and west to islands where sky and sea almost blur. From Brønnøysund, you can go many ways: toward island worlds, toward mountain paths, toward Torghatten, the mountain with a hole that seems carved by mystery.
Photo: Ronny Lien / www.visithelgeland.com
Torghatten is the mountain that whispers stories and how the land can tell them. It sits on the island of Torget, just south of Brønnøysund.
Legend says trolls were involved. Hestmannen, Lekamøya, a hat thrown to protect, an arrow shot, sunlight turning them to stone. Torghatten might be a bridge between worlds, where the wind carries whispers from the trolls of old.
Geology says that during the Ice Age, melting ice and rising seas hollowed the stone, carving a tunnel through the mountain’s heart. The hole is about 160 meters long, 35 meters high, and 15-20 meters wide.
Walking up to that opening is something both humble and wild. The trail starts gently, at the beach, the white sands or gravel underfoot, then climbs past birch forest, over rocky slopes, until you stand before the tunnel-hole. You pass through it, the light shifting. You peer out the other side, and the world opens.
Photo: www.havbrukssenter.no
During my time in Brønnøysund, I worked at Norsk Havbrukssenter, a family-run company whose roots run deep in both the land and the sea. For generations, they have pushed the boundaries of aquaculture and salmon farming, growing from humble beginnings into a leader in one of Norway’s most important export industries. Yet what left the deepest impression on me was not the scale of their success, but the way they carried their town in their hearts. They envisioned and brought to life projects and events that enriched Brønnøysund, and they extended their care to hospitality by creating charming, modern waterfront apartments at Toft, inviting others to experience the beauty of this coastal community. Working there was never just a job. It was a lesson in how innovation and tradition can coexist, how business can honor both the land and the people, and how a family’s vision can quietly shape the life and rhythm of an entire town.
Photo: Mathia Pacenti / ©WanderNorway
Helgeland is one of those regions that looks like it was shaped by myth. Thousands of islands, islets, skerries, rising and falling with tides, cliffs that drop into the sea, fjords that hug valleys, forests that climb inland, to where the mountains guard ancient snow and ice.
During my travels, I spent time on Vega, an island that seemed to embody freedom itself. Its mountains, carved from ancient times, rise dramatically from the coastline, and the trails wind along the cliffs and forests, connecting one breathtaking viewpoint to another. I hiked the trail to Vegatrappa, a series of wooden stairs that climb steeply along the rock, offering a rhythm to the ascent and rewarding each step with panoramic views over the islands and sea. The feeling of standing above the horizon, wind in hair, water below, was a sharp reminder of how long this land has shaped life and instinct.
Farther south, I reached Kvaløya, a place that surprised me with its soft, sandy beaches and crystal-clear waters. Families lounged, children played, and I walked along the shoreline, marveling at how vibrant life could be in such a rugged, northern landscape.
Photo: Lars Erik Martinsen / Helgeland Reiseliv
I hiked Gåsheia many times. Gåsheia is a hiking area outside of Brønnøysund. The hike encompasses four peaks, Kjølsfjellet, Guromannen, Hjortheia, and Salbuhatten, forming a horseshoe shape. Up there, the views stretch. Velfjorden’s arms, the archipelago draped across sea and sky, Torghatten visible in silhouette across water, islands drooping toward the horizon.
Trælneshatten is tougher, steeper, and rawer. I remember mornings before sunrise, pulling on boots, the dew on grasses, the hush of the air. Walking up, sometimes losing breath in the thin cold, then arriving somewhere that feels like the middle of everything, made of sea, stone, wind, and sky.
Photo: Tore Schning Olsen / www.nordnorge.com
I also visited Hildurs Urterarium, a small family-run garden and herb farm just outside the town. The family has created something remarkable: rows of vibrant herbs, flowers, and vegetables, carefully tended with knowledge passed down through generations. The air is rich with the scent of mint, thyme, and lavender, and the greenhouse hums with life. You can hear stories of planting, harvesting, and crafting natural remedies and teas, transforming the simple act of growing plants into something almost ceremonial. Sitting there, I felt both the hands-on intimacy of tradition and the deep connection to the land that Helgeland inspires.
Photo: Mathia Pacenti / ©WanderNorway
Leaving comfort is always hard. In Norway, even when you think you know the landscape, it surprises you. Working seasonal jobs, as a hotel receptionist or service staff, in Northern Norway, hours from any place I knew as home, I felt both adrift and alive. The drive from Vesterålen was over ten hours, summers mostly spent in motion, meeting strangers and learning to be helpful, learning to be kind to myself even when I was tired. But that quiet world, except for gulls and soft wind, brought moments of reflection and change.
The present and memories shape each other in a continuous dance. The wine in the barrel gets darker, richer. The edges soften. The flavor strengthens.
And Helgeland, Brønnøysund, Torghatten, Gåsheia, Trælneshatten. All of them are like chords in that song of my life. A melody I return to, sometimes unexpectedly, when I remember that summertime, made of salt spray, whispers of old legends carried on the wind, ease, and beauty.