Nestled on the rugged tip of an island in northern Norway, two degrees above the Arctic Circle, lies an enigmatic house that time forgot. While it may not have been occupied in decades, its walls hold remarkable stories of the lives that unfolded there, reaching back more than 120 years. Photographed by Britt Marie Bye, these fascinating tales were told to her by relatives of the home's last resident. Click or scroll on to discover its secrets...

Flanked by the sea and mountains, this corner of Scandinavia is steeped in mysticism, experiencing an ever-present midnight sun in the summer months and 24 hours of polar night in the winter. This is the land of the aurora borealis – in years gone by, locals revered the magnificent phenomenon, believing the northern lights could whisk them away if they so much as waved at the sky.

Back in the mid-19th century, the land the house was built on was no more than a small farm until the dwelling's first owners, Sedrup and his wife Joakima, acquired the property in 1893, transforming it into the structure we see today. The home's distinctive gable is seen here on the right in this recoloured photograph of two unknown girls taken sometime between the 1940s and 1960s.

While the sea was particularly rough at this end of the island, Sedrup managed to establish a harbour where boats could safely dock. He even built a local store and ran the post office, turning the remote fishing community into a bustling isle. Meanwhile, on the property itself, he constructed a barn that held 10 cows, sheep and a horse. According to the 1900 census, Sedrup and Joakima lived in this grand home with their seven children, as well as five servants. 

Beautifully captured by photographer Britt Marie Bye, the home encompasses three levels. The ground floor includes three living rooms, a kitchen, a pantry, a bedroom and a bathroom. The years may have left their mark on the house but this reception space with its charming clapboard walls feels frozen in time, dining chairs poised around an elegant dining table as though waiting for the home's residents to return.

Among the maids that Sedrup and Joakima hired to help run their property was Petra, who joined their small brigade of servants in the 1920s. It wasn't long before she fell in love with the couple's son, Leidulf, and the two were married in 1927. In the years to come, the family house would become the home of their five children, as well as their grandchildren for a time too.

According to Petra's relatives, it was an exceedingly loving home to grow up in. They were a hardworking and socially engaged family, and politics was frequently at the heart of household discussions. A number of books still linger on the shelves of this bureau in the dining room, while the painting hanging on the wall – a piece by Norwegian artist Anders Askevold – depicts a family of agricultural workers waiting with their cattle for a boat.

This bright drawing room holds fond memories for Lisbeth, Petra's granddaughter, who lived in the house from 1955 to 1965. The scene of festive winter traditions, the house would echo with Christmas carols while Petra would bake cakes and sweets that the children sometimes would steal. In Norway, Christmas is celebrated on 24 December, and Lisbeth remembers coming downstairs in the morning to find a beautifully decorated tree on the red carpet. 

One particular year, Lisbeth recalls a large dinner party and a feast of halibut caught off the coast outside the house, followed by rømmegrøt, a Norwegian porridge made with sour cream. Their celebrations would spill over into the early hours and it was sometimes three o'clock in the morning before they all finally retired to bed.

The family are said to have been impressive amateur musicians and the home was often filled with music. Leidulf played the violin and one of his sons played the accordion, while the rest of the family would sing. Their love of all things musical is reflected in the beautifully painted motifs that adorn the corners of the ceiling in the drawing room, which features a stringed instrument that looks like a lyre framed by flowers and branches.

Over the centuries, the home has opened its doors to all manner of people passing through the rugged island. According to relatives, when the local priest held confirmation classes on the isle, his students from the small surrounding towns used to stay at the house and were welcomed by the generous family. 

Each year when the temperature started to tumble, the home's wood-burning hearths took on a whole new level of importance. This far north in Norway, the sun never rises above the horizon in the winter months and the days pass by in darkness and gloom. During this period, the family tried to make their living spaces as light and inviting as possible and the three large fireplaces were usually flickering with warmth. 

While the passing years have been kind to some areas of the property, signs of deterioration have sadly crept in. In the drawing room, a chunk of missing plaster from the beautiful green wall exposes the home's brick structure, while cracked and bubbling paintwork on the ceiling suggests the bitter climate may be taking its toll on the building.

In the kitchen, dishes and pans are still scattered across the worktop and delicate sheer curtains frame the window. Fishing was the lifeblood of the community, with fish refineries that shipped produce to larger cities and overseas located in neighbouring towns. No doubt the spoils of the sea found their way into this kitchen too, to be prepared and served up at many a family dinner over the decades.

Mementos from those who once lived within these walls still linger on surfaces and inside cupboards. Found in the pantry, a woman perched on a rock smiles out in black and white from this small, intricate frame, balancing two babies wearing matching tartan hats on her knee. 

More than just a bustling family home, the property was something of a hub for the local community too. When the doctor visited the island, he had his own office in the house for carrying out appointments and – according to relatives – patients from the surrounding area would sit in the long hallways, waiting for their turn.

Upstairs on the home's first floor, there are five bedrooms and two storage rooms, as well as the servant's accommodation, consisting of two large rooms contained in a separate wing of the house. The second floor includes a few spacious rooms and an array of smaller rooms used for storage.

Sadly, the master bedroom seems to have suffered some of the worst damage in the house, with the ceiling cladding peeling away to reveal the home's wooden frame. Nevertheless, it's not hard to imagine the space's former grandeur, from the elegant dressing table to the regal bedframe. Unfortunately, by the mid-1900s, the family's fortunes, along with those of Norway itself, had suffered a blow...

Despite its neutral stance in the Second World War, Norway was invaded by Germany in 1940 and several strategic points along the coast were captured. The war hit the family hard – the local store that Sedrup built was closed and they had to let the servants go. Sedrup passed away in 1943, leaving the house to Leidulf, Petra and the rest of the family.

After the Second World War, the property was opened up to refugees from Finnmark, Norway’s most northern county, who had been left homeless when German forces burnt down entire cities in the region. Petra and Leidulf's house was a port in the storm for those in need, who were welcomed in with kindness and a hot cup of coffee.

Pictured here is the rear entrance to the servant's quarters above the kitchen, where Petra began her life at the house all those decades ago. Back in Sedrup and Joakima's day, this wing was home to two farmhands, two maids and a seamstress. Long after the family had made the difficult decision to let their servants go, they continued to farm cows on the property until the 1970s, and sheep still roamed the land long after that.

By the 1960s, the population of the local town was dwindling, with its fish refinery having closed for good in the 1950s. Access to the community was only by boat, so residents campaigned for the construction of a bridge to connect the area with the larger surrounding cities and it finally became a reality in 1976. However, the home's impressive ocean-facing façade, designed to impress visitors sailing into the remote isle, serves as a reminder of life before roads reached the island.

In January 1988, Leidulf passed away and Petra lived alone in the house until the mid-1990s. She eventually died at the grand old age of 95 in 1997, nine years after her husband. In the wake of her passing, the home fell quiet for the first time since its construction in the 19th century. However, the memories of this happy family home endure through the generations. This amazing photo captures Petra and Leidulf's daughter Jorunn with her husband and child back in the property's heyday.

It's rare to come across such a remarkable house, home to the same family for more than 100 years. Almost unchanged throughout the decades, it offers a window to the past, to a warm and welcoming sanctuary in one of the coldest corners of the world that always opened its doors to those in need. Britt Marie Bye released a book of her remarkable photographs of abandoned houses in September 2021 – you can view more of her work on her website.

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