Tourism will save the day in the small fishing village of Bugøynes
Little Finland seduces many visitors. It is one of few villages on the coast to the Barents Sea that was not burnt when the German forces withdrew in 1944.
By the Varanger fjord, about an hour’s drive from Norway's border with Finland, lies the picturesque little fishing village of Bugøynes, also known as Pykeijä – or “Little Finland”.
For a Finnish journalist, it is a must-see destination, so we head to Bugøynes together with Pål Haldorsen. Haldorsen runs Varanger Brygge, a family business offering unique and sustainable travel and culinary experiences for tourists. These include sea fishing, as well as fishing in mountain lakes and rivers around the Varangerfjord, cookery courses using local produce led by some of Norway’s finest chefs, and cosy stays in restored fishermen’s cottages dating from the 18th and 19th centuries.
As we leave Kirkenes, we drive through a heavy snowstorm in the mountains, where visibility is almost zero. But when we reach the small village by the sea, we are greeted by a striking calm, clear skies, and brilliant sunshine. The weather here can change rapidly.
“Here, you are so close to the elements,” says Haldorsen, who was born and raised in Bugøynes. “You are at the mercy of the sea. The community is very special, and there is a deep sense of calm.”
He is right. The fishermen’s village on the shores of the Varangerfjord by the Arctic Ocean has a unique atmosphere. Time seems to move differently here, shaped by the sea and the sky. There is a sense of calm—not dull in any way, but full of life. It reminds me of fishing villages in the Finnish southern archipelago.
Perhaps it has something to do with the houses. They are small, low, well-kept—and old.
Many of the fishermen’s cottages date back to the late 18th and 19th centuries. It is a rare sight in the north, where almost every building was burned by the Nazis at the end of the Second World War. Bugøynes, however, was spared. We will return to why a little later.
If you are lucky, you can speak Finnish all day in Bugøynes, as the community has centuries-old Finnish roots. This is exactly what happens.
Among the first people I meet are Kristiina Latvala and Virpi Pyhäjärvi, both from Finland. They work as nurses at the care home in Kirkenes and are spending their day off collecting seashells along the shore. They are very fond of Norway.
“The work here is far more rewarding and inspiring,” says Kristiina Latvala. “There are enough staff, so you have time to talk with the elderly and genuinely care for them. It’s completely different from Finland, where there is a constant staff shortage and you may only have a few minutes per patient. You can see the impact. The elderly here are healthier and live longer.”
“The work culture is different,” adds Virpi Pyhäjärvi. “Work is not seen as everything here, whereas in Finland we tend to feel we must keep pushing ourselves. Here, employers understand the importance of rest. They might ask how you spent your weekend—whether you had time to enjoy yourself. They know you cope better with demanding work when you are properly rested.”
In addition, salaries are much better than in Finland.
Fishing remains the main livelihood in Bugøynes, but tourism is steadily growing. It runs in the Haldorsen family. Around 40 years ago, Pål Haldorsen’s mother, Elsa Haldorsen, came up with the idea of building a “Jäämeren sauna” on the beach near their home—a sauna by the Arctic Ocean for visitors. Today, the business is run by Pål’s son.
“Thousands of people have visited the sauna,” says Elsa Haldorsen. “We also offered meals, and once it became so crowded that we had to serve dinner in the bedroom. At one point, there were so many guests I even had to lock the front door.”
That says a great deal—because in Bugøynes, doors are rarely locked.
“‘Jäämeren sauna’ is a good name,” she adds. “We were even contacted by the University of Tromsø, who wanted to use the concept, but I said no. Today, however, there are several saunas like it here in Bugøynes.”
Elsa Haldorsen has spent decades promoting tourism. The Finnish association “Pykeijän Ystävät” is an important partner, regularly visiting Bugøynes and promoting “Little Finland” (Pikku Suomi) at travel fairs.
In summer, tourism flourishes. Visitors come to fish for king crab, swim in the Arctic Ocean, and enjoy the saunas. There is the Bugøynes Festival, a Sauna festival for northern Norway, and even visiting opera performances featuring Finnish and Norwegian musicians staging productions about the village.
“Summer is strong,” says Pål Haldorsen. “Now we are looking at how to expand the winter season.”
One popular winter activity is the “polar night swimming tours”, organised from Finland. Students from around the world arrive by coach to swim and use the sauna beneath the Northern Lights.
“Sometimes the journey itself becomes an adventure, when the bus slides off the road in bad weather,” laughs Kaija Bækø, who moved to Bugøynes from Finland in the 1980s and worked as a Finnish teacher at the local school.
“I came here as a victim of Cupid,” she says with a smile. “And Pykeijä welcomed me warmly.”
Life by the Sea
Kaija Bækø’s husband was a fisherman.
“There is always a certain tension when someone is out at sea and the wind picks up,” she says. “You find yourself looking out of the window again and again, hoping to see the boat returning.”
Sometimes, it does not return.
“Sadly, the sea took my husband after ten years of marriage,” she says. “But the community showed its strength in that crisis. There is support if you need it—and if you are willing to ask. We are like one big family.”
Leif Ingilä is also a Finnish-speaking fisherman, following in the footsteps of his father, grandfather, and great-grandfather. One of his sons has continued the tradition.
“Cod fishing is good at the moment; prices are high,” he says.
“Fishing has changed—it is much easier now. We have better equipment, maps, and technology.”
“It is the king crab that has saved the fishing villages,” he adds. “Without it, there would be no boats, nothing. Once, I caught one weighing over nine kilos, with a leg span of 1.68 metres.”
Finnish – a more colourful language for men?
Finnish is still widely spoken in Bugøynes, although most speakers are over 60.
“Men here especially enjoy speaking Finnish,” says Kaija Bækø . “Women tend to be more cautious about making mistakes, while men are bolder. They also say stories sound more juicy in Finnish.”
Younger generations with Finnish roots have not always learned the language, but many feel its absence.
“I would like to speak Finnish,” says Irene Linangi. “Unfortunately, my parents didn’t use it at home, so I only picked up some from my grandmother and from Kaija at school.”
Irene lives in Bugøynes with her husband and two children—one of the few young families in the village. She creates artwork from driftwood collected along the shore, and many of her pieces adorn the old houses.
The Deal That Saved Bugøynes
So why were the old houses not destroyed? Why did Bugøynes escape the fate of so many other settlements in northern Norway and Finnish Lapland, that were burned to the ground by retreating German forces during the Second World War?
The question has intrigued generations.
According to local accounts, a German battery commander, Peter Paul Flach, arrived in Bugøynes in 1943 and grew fond of the village. As the war turned against Nazi Germany and retreat orders were issued ahead of the advancing Soviet army, troops were instructed to burn settlements as they withdrew.
But Flach had said he did not want to burn Bugøynes.
He commanded more than 100 soldiers stationed on a small island nearby. With no proper road and the Red Army approaching, he faced a dilemma: destroy everything and retreat overland—likely into danger—or negotiate with the fishermen.
There were families with children in the small houses. And the fishermen had ten boats.
A deal was struck: the fishermen would transport the German troops by sea to Gornitak in the Varangerfjord. In return, the village and the boats would be spared.
Historians have challenged the idea that Flach defied direct orders from Hitler. In reality, he followed protocol by destroying German equipment to prevent it from falling into enemy hands, and he successfully evacuated his men, later receiving a promotion in 1945.
Timing also played a role. By the time orders to burn Finnmark were widely implemented, German forces had already left Bugøynes.
Perhaps, then, it was the fishermen who ultimately saved the village—protecting both their own community and the departing soldiers.
“I can understand the decision,” says Pål Haldorsen. “If you live in a place like this and have a family, you want to protect your home and your livelihood. You want to keep your house and your boat.”
Was it timing, was it a pragmatic, perhaps humane German officer, was it the actions of the fishermen—or a combination of all three—that saved Bugøynes? We may never know for certain. But today, many are grateful that “Little Finland” endured.
