I remember the call like yesterday. “Hey, is this Jack? You left your details with us in Lofoten [Norway] last summer. Would you like a job?” In my excitement, I exclaimed, “Yes!” After all, life has taught me that if I grab exciting opportunities with both hands, the minor details have a way of figuring themselves out. “Great,” my future boss continued, “so I’ll see you [during] the first week of February?” It was at this moment that, internally, I exclaimed, “Ohhh shire of Middle-earth!” or words to that effect, but replied calmly, “I look forward to it!” The call ended, and I sat back, contemplating the enormity of the challenge ahead, which would require me to equip and then drive a notoriously unreliable Vanagon Syncro almost 2,000 miles from the U.K to Lofoten (north of the Arctic Circle) during the Norwegian winter.
I was no stranger to Scandinavia and had spent the previous summer exploring Denmark, Norway, and Sweden, but wintertime was a very different prospect. I had just six weeks to get my affairs in order, prepare the van, and make this huge journey to begin a 10-month position. At that time, I had lived in the Syncro for around three and a half years, but I’d spent most of that period prioritizing mechanicals and doing bodywork, so the interior remained extremely basic. I had no solar, heater, insulation, or running water; the interior was a bed, an ancient 110-amp-hour leisure battery, and some cupboards.
As always, the first port of call was a full mechanical service, which included flushing the cooling system and replacing it with a waterless coolant to prevent freezing. In fact, the van required a bunch of new parts, which inevitably left me with a pocket full of English pennies to address my stark interior. I figured a heater was my number one priority, so I picked up a rebuilt Eberspacher B1 on eBay and had it fitted and certified by my local dealer. At the time, the heater and installation cost hurt, but after living a week in Norway, I’d have paid double, and it remains one of the best investments I’ve ever made. I spent a week in my family’s driveway, stuffing insulation into every nook and cranny, hoping it might offset single-pane windows, a broken skylight, holes in the floor, and a high-top roof so poorly bonded that there was a constant breeze when standing. Fun fact: it didn’t.
Departure day soon arrived. What started as a calm and collected schedule had culminated in me frantically throwing final supplies into the van, promising my mum I’d not end up like Jack Nicholson at the end of The Shining, and racing to the ferry at what felt like the speed of light (55 mph in a Vanagon).
The first 1,050 miles to Oslo were pretty painless and provided a false sense of security. In my naivety, I figured I’d already made it to Norway, so perhaps this journey wouldn’t be so brutal after all. However, I failed to recognise that while I may have reached the halfway point, the second half would be almost exclusively on dangerous ice roads, and my average speed was about to be cut in half. The reality hit me like a sledgehammer that evening at a truck stop outside Oslo, where temperatures dropped to -20°C (- 4°F). I spent the night lying awake, freezing (I couldn’t run my heater all night with my decrepit old battery), wondering whether the van would start in the morning.
I woke to everything in the van completely frozen, and when I stepped outside, the cold was shocking. I sat in the driver’s seat, caressed the steering wheel, and whispered sweet nothings to the van. “Please start for me. I promise I’ll buy you only the very best OEM and aftermarket parts! I know I’ve bought cheap ones in the past. I know I hurt you; I’ve hurt us both, but never again.” I inserted the key, the dash lights burst into life, and with one deep breath, I closed my eyes, turned the ignition, and the van burst to life without hesitation. “I guess there’s a reason the Finnish military loved the Syncros. I never doubted you for a second, Apocatron,” I exclaimed, throwing my hands in the air with a bravado that barely masked my all-encompassing relief and physical shaking.
The next 1,000 miles were some of the most challenging I’ve ever faced, with sheet ice roads, sketchy mountain passes, freezing temperatures, and Norway’s most significant winter storm in thirty years. However, throughout the journey, the van performed flawlessly. Starting on the button, 4WD kept me safe, and the van’s heater ensured the interior remained toasty warm. To the surprise of my new boss, I arrived in Lofoten two days ahead of schedule. She had reached out over the previous days to check whether the snowstorms had brought me to a halt.
I woke early the next day and sat alone on the banks of Reinefjorden. The natural majesty was like nothing I’d ever experienced, my heart was firing on all cylinders, I felt completely euphoric, and it was all made possible by this 36-year-old Syncro. Sure, we have disagreements, but when it counts, the van has been there for me, and whatever the twists and turns, it has always brought me to my destination.
The year that followed was the best of my life. I kayaked on frozen fjords with orcas, climbed some of the most iconic mountains in Norway, shot the Northern lights almost weekly, made new friends, and invited family from back home to join my adventures.
The best experiences in life often ask you to dig deep, face your fears, and step outside of your comfort zone. In the words of Gandalf, “The world is not in your books and maps; it is out there.” I’m not a YouTuber per se, but I occasionally make short films that document my trips, and this episode remains my favorite.
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