An extraordinary journey to Norway's remote Lofoten islands

Such serendipitous and interesting encounters encapsulate the spirit of Lofoten, a collection of barren, mountainous islands and fjords in the Arctic Circle that extends like a finger from the mainland of Norway. On my journey from London via three flights - two on rickety propeller planes - each leg revealed greater isolation and more dramatic scenery and took me further from the familiar.

Landing in Svolver, I head for Henningsvær, the creative capital, where House & Garden Top 100 Designer Jonathan Tuckey has transformed what was a 1940s cod liver oil factory into a hotel. Trevarefabrikken is the enterprise of four friends who stumbled upon the abandoned concrete building while on a climbing holiday and decided to buy it in 2014. They enlisted the help of Jonathan to carve a space for people who want to live in the heart of nature.

The restaurant and bar come alive at night with bands and simple but excellent food, featuring Myklevik's finest, cooked on the grill. Upstairs, original machinery from the factory lines the concrete corridor leading to minimalist but smart bedrooms, where everything is in keeping with the ideology of living without excess.

Henningsvær's pretty harbour has a mix of cool restaurants, shops and galleries that could be in east London. Kaviarfactory - a converted caviar factory, as its name suggests - is now a contemporary art gallery and bookshop. Mors Hus sells mid-century furniture, while Engelskmannsbrygga offers stylish glass and ceramic tableware made in another former cod liver oil factory.

Repurpose and reuse is the modus operandi of Lofoten and one I would encounter throughout my trip. Along the 850-kilometre E1O road - which starts in Sweden and ends in A, the southernmost town of Lofoten - I cross countless rocky islets connected by a network of bridges surrounded by the sharp peaks of black mountains. These appear stubborn and resilient, standing on the edge of the world and exposed to the piercing elements of the Arctic. Constant changes of light and climate throw me into the present and I observe the magnificence of sea and mountains.

Along the way, intrigued by gliding windsurfers, I make a stop at Rambergstranda beach, where the turquoise waters look almost Caribbean, but in reality, are a cool 12°C in high summer. The fishing villages of Hamnøy, Reine and Moskenes demand further stops. In typical Lofoten style, their red and yellow painted wooden cabins are built on the rock bed, hanging partly over the sea on stilts.

Fishing built Norway from the time of the Vikings and continues to be important, though not without modern intervention. By the 1950s, fishing out of Lofoten accounted for about 80 per cent of the country's economy, with dried cod exported mainly to Portugal, Spain and Italy, until the oil industry took off in the 1960s. The arrival of large motorboats and trawlers has made traditional line fishing almost extinct. Many factories remain abandoned along the shores until tourism arrives in these forgotten places.

One such saviour is Ingunn Rasmussen, a fisherman's daughter, who grew up in a small cabin where her hotel, Holmen, now sits on its own rocky islet in Sørvågen, between Reine and À. 'My childhood was these hills and exploring the sea shore,' she recalls, while telling stories of foraging the land for the berries that her mother would preserve. ‘During the 1960s and 1970s, all these cabins were alive with small boats along the quayside. It was a profession to make fishing lines, but no one knows how to do this now except the few left of that generation.’

She bought the collection of abandoned cabins - the oldest dating back to 1827 - in 2001, left her day job in the oil industry to restore them and set up a hotel infused with the soul of her upbringing. Sitting in the two-storey cabin that houses the restaurant and an upstairs seating nook, I can see the contrast between old and new beams set against smart Scandinavian furniture. Bedrooms are scattered across cabins built in the traditional style, with interiors clad in birch plywood, which, though an aesthetic very much of the moment, is a typical insulating method used here by fishermen.

Setting off from Holmen one morning, I walk towards À until the road runs out and there is nowhere to go but up. Climbing to the top of Litlandstabben hill, I am between the open sea and a lake with a black, mirror-still surface. On the opposite shore, below a set of peaks, I notice three cabins. What spectacular isolation their owners must experience, as there's not a road or path in sight.