It's pitch dark and I'm flat on my back on a frozen lake in the middle of nowhere. Above me, it seems that almost half the sky is lit up with a sash of minty-green light that appears to ripple and dance. This isn't some surreal dream, I'm watching the aurora borealis, also known as the Northern Lights.

It's only my second night in the Arctic Circle and it seems Lady Luck is shining on me as brightly as the aurora – most people I've talked to about chasing the lights have been disappointed, flying miles to cold climes only to find heavy cloud cover and a no-show. But here, in the Vesteralen Islands of northern Norway, I will see the lights throughout most of my stay.

I'm here with Exodus, who specialise in adventure travel and, if the lights had proved elusive, the trip would still have offered more than enough to make up for it. Over the course of five days I meet Sami and their reindeer, went sledding with dogs, skated on a frozen lake and tried snowshoeing, ice fishing and horse riding.

It feels as far from the humdrum of daily life as it’s possible to be, and the dreamlike quality of the whole experience is heightened by the epic landscape – think Narnia meets Lord Of The Rings – with its snow-capped peaks and great expanses of tundra giving way to wave-lapped shores and fjords.

We're based on Langoya, one of Norway's largest islands, in the town of Sortland, which has an impressive selection of quirky Scandi eateries and shops stocked with cosy knitwear.

But we spend little time here. Instead, night and day, we're on the road in a minibus speeding from one adventure to the next. Our guides for the trip are Norwegians Jeremy and Matheos, who are experts at Arctic survival and have the patience of saints with a bunch of Brits for whom even a light drift of snow is a train-cancelling event.

In winter there's only around four hours of daylight (bluey grey, no sun), from 10am to 2.30pm, so we need to make the most of it. Clad in waterproof boots, we set off on a walk through a winter wasteland, alongside a frozen stream flanked by imposing mountains.

In a wooden shelter overlooking a lake we find Nigel from Lincolnshire, a former Royal Marine stationed in Norway who fell in love and has been living here for 20 years. He and his wife run Andoy Friluftssenter, a cosy wooden restaurant and log cabins overlooking a fjord. They own an incredible 4,000 acres and forage cloudberries used in the dishes they serve.

While Nigel cooks up a delicious lunch of moose and veggie stir-fry over an open fire in the shelter, Jeremy drills small holes in the icy lake and we try fishing. Half an hour later, one of our group has caught a trout.

I the evening we set off on our first hunt for the Northern Lights. We arrive at a frozen lake just before a band of green swirls across the sky, like the blurred headlights of heavy traffic on a cosmic super-highway. It arcs and expands, then curls and morphs into endless cloud shapes. We lie on the ice and gaze upwards in awe.

The next day we head to some local riding stables. Norwegian horses are beautiful, gentle creatures with spiky Mohican manes and thick, creamy coats. I ride Emil, who owner Julie has reared for nine years since she set up the school. We trot to another frozen lake and Jeremy appears with snow shoes, so it's off the horses for a giddy race across the lake.

Then it's off to a Sami reindeer farm, where four Sami families (the indigenous people of Scandinavia) keep their herds. Laila welcomes us into her lavvo (a sort of teepee) and we sit by the fire as she introduces the Sami culture.

On our last full day, we're off to the dogs. Thirty lean husky-type hounds are chained up in a snowy enclosure and after briefing and coffee in another lavvo, we help to put them in their harnesses. I took charge of Secko.

They are born to run, says the owner. They are tied to an all-terrain vehicle and I get the coveted place in the back as 10 of them pull us uphill into a winter wonderland.

In the evening we enjoy another meal of moose pie and cloudberry cheesecake and then spend a very relaxing hour half-watching the Northern Lights from the warmth of a hot tub.

We've seen so much of them, they're beginning to feel like a permanent fixture in the night sky.