The burly man standing at the front of the ferry is looking at me – specifically me, it seems – as he delivers instructions on how to survive the rough Arctic waters we are about to sail into. “Look at the horizon, toilets are here, sick bags are there. Do not throw up on the floor,” he growls, without even a hint of humour. His white beard and grizzled face are those of a sailor who has been traversing these icy waters for decades and has the constitution for it. I on the other hand pop another motion sickness pill and hope for the best.
I’m on the last leg of a journey that began in London, took me via the Norwegian capital of Oslo, to the northern city of Bodø, on two ferries and more than five hours to reach Myken – one of the most remote inhabited communities in Europe.
The island measures just 400 metres wide and 2 kilometres long and lies north of the Arctic Circle off the west coast of Norway. A scattering of rock and grass, buffeted by the Norwegian Sea. I first heard of this island because it is home to the world’s most remote whisky distillery – an improbable venture, producing a spirit that critics claim rivals its Scottish cousins.
