Tre daggar på Skarvarna

Three days on the Skarvarna

Day one:

Left the house with the intention of completing a long circuit of peaks. I punched through the warming snow with the goal of topping out on Lill Hamra, which happens to be just behind my backdoor. Not very far, or tall, but fun with the conditions, because I managed to choose a very windy day with bad snow: two steps and then I would posthole with my entire ski. Not only that, but the snow was sticky, and it would stick to the bottom of the ski.

Lill Hamra.

A flock of Fjäll Ripor (Ptarmigan) flying away from me.

After topping out on Lill Skarnven, I began the descent. It was so windy that I could point it the entire way down and not have to worry about turning! The downside to this was that the flat parts or the slightly downhill parts required extra effort to overcome the wind.

The cairn at the top of Lill Hamra (1081 M)

Backside of Lill Skarven.

When following the trails here, there are trail markers every 10 meters. Overkill? Growing up I thought so myself, but there have been times when I have not been able to see only one sign at a time.

The backside of Lill Hamra.

The South End of Stor Skarven.

Rather then using climbing skins, I have begun using a technique that maximizes the amount of snow that fastens to the bottom of the ski.

Funäsdalen from the top of Lill Sarven (1224 M).

Storr Hamra and Lill Hamra from the top of Lill Skarven.

Day 2

The second day on Skarven was a reconnaissance trip for an extreme skiing competition that would be held over the weekend. This time I got to hop on the back of a snow machine to get there. The snow was great, due to the immense amount of wind that was blowing snow into all of the bowls on the peak.

The potential boundary for the next day's competition.

Rasmus and David getting lost in the wind on Lill Skarven.

Skiing down in the recycled powder was the closest I have been to experiencing at least a little bit of snow. In the West we are so used to having at least one day during the season where the snowfall is deeper than your boots.

From the bottom there does not seem to be a lot of potential for competition, but everything is much larger than it seems.

The easy way to and from the base of Lill Skarven.

Now I deviate from the story. Mom and I went out on a snowmachine tour the same day to make sure the afternoon snow woud hold the machine.

Judging by moms crawling in the spring snow, you would be able to see a couple of things. One, the snow in the afternoon does not hold a snowmachine or a person. Two, mom maybe fell off of the snowmachine into a dramatic faceplant. Three, moms abs hurt the next day because she was laughing so hard.

Day 3

The day of the competition. I decided to compete in the day’s competition since the area did not seem too challenging. I would have to say I was more coerced into the event rather then skiing due to my own free will. The competition was a fun little get-together with the local ski school. Most of the skiers were excellent skiers, and if there was anyone who was at the bottom of the skill list, it would have been me.

Clear skies for competition day.

Going up was the easiest part, but weird. Swedish snow travel does not really match the type of snow travel we do in the West. Here, everyone seems to prefer walking up the line they want to ski in a large group. To compound the danger of the situation, nobody wears an avalanche transceiver, and if they do, it’s in their pocket or their backpack and they do not turn it on until they go down. The competitors did not seem to want pristine snow for riding. They all preferred walking up to the base of the cliffs to deem if it was possible to throw themselves off of them. I had to be the poor bystander watching as hordes of people destroyed perfect snow!

"This cliff looks good. Take it with speed here. The landing is soft!?"

Not the best model for safe travel: everyone moving up the same gulley. Granted it was spring and the snow is safe, but this is not a habit one should develop.

I did not feel intimidated going up, but everything changed once I saw the first skiers go. They all skied hard and aggressively, which can be attributed to both their skill and alpine skis. I chose to ski with my Telemark setup, mostly because that is what I know how to do.

Endless possibilities...

Competitors were everywhere on the way up.

At the end of the day the group went to a local pub to watch the movie of all of the riders and to judge a winner. I happened to win! Of course, I was the only person who skied in the Telemark group, hence winning both first and last place. It was however, more embarrassing receiving recognition than it was gratifying.

One of the cliff bands in the bowl.

Three days were gone rather quickly and I had gotten some good skiing out of it. The backcountry culture here is not the same to what I am used to, but I still get to lay down a couple of turns so why complain?

Lill Skarven from afar. The parting shot for three days on one mountain.

The results of the competition can be found here:

http://www.tillfjalls.se

Pimpla Dag

Goals for Sweden

1. Re-establish roots in Sweden
2. Ski too much
3. Parooze the talent
4. Learn how to ice-fish

Thus far, I have not accomplished much on this list, except for the inherent goal of having fun. I have however learned how to fish. It is actually a complicated process considering the amount of stress I had to go through to operate a snowmachine to get out on the ice.

The word for ice-fishing in Swedish is pimpla, and is most commonly associated with the phrase 'pimpla öl.' Translation: (used as either a statement or a question) Fishing for Beer(!,?)

This is how the day starts: overalls that keep you far too warm combined with a machine and little experience using it, equals stress, although I do not look it.

This is how stress starts: me trying to put the snowmachine into gear.

This is how most Swedes behave out on the ice: Mangus after falling into the lake trying to find out why there was no ice in the middle of it.

Not the worst place to be on a sunny day in March.

Making holes in the ice, and hoping the fish just hop right on out.

The Pimpla Stuga: a step up from the squatter cabin some Fort Collins skiers have been getting used to.

The man who makes it all happen: my boss and pal, Karl Arne.

Swedish grill hotdogs are wonderful. When you eat a hotdog here, it is called 'hotdog with bread.' Here, we eat them in tortilla-like wraps, with sweet and strong mustard.

My homie Alfred (also known as Popeye to the few Americans who know him) doing what he does best.

While waiting for the fish to bite, this is how we spend our time.

Can you belive it! We actually caught a fish! This fish was pulled up by a guy who had not even stepped on the ice that day. He was helping me pull in the lines, and he pulled this fish up at the first hole he went to. Right after he took the fish off of the hook, he caught another fish that was too small to keep.

Cooking the fish over the fire.

Fighting for the meat!

The stressfull ride home. We weighed the thing down a little.

The day was a success despite the unhealthy levels of stress I had trying to drive the snowmachine to and from. We actually tipped the thing three times, and I did not even know that they could flip! Not a bad start to getting the things on my list checked off.

Backdoor Skiing

Sometimes I like to take a little ski tour early in the morning. Order of operations: wake up, put clothes on, step out door, step into skis, go down, catch breath, and go up.

Ski tour with Anna

The family went on another ski tour this past week. This time, we had Anna with us.

The whole family out on the Fjället.

Anna, showing off her talent.

The typical Reward.

Anna showing the family that the best way to get a workout from skiing is to butt plant into the snow and struggle to get up, by the using the post-hole technique.

Anna, demonstrating success.

Dad and Anna waiting for the mothers.

Coming down the hill.

Anna is here!

Dad, myself, and countless others who kept their mouths shut surprised my mother with a birthday present celebrating her 50^th winter. The present that she received was a surprise visit from my sister Anna, who is currently holding two jobs and going to school at the University of Colorado, Boulder.

It was a complicated endeavor considering a large number of variables. First off, I am incapable of keeping a secret. I would find myself holding my tongue all of the time to avoid giving any hints of Anna’s visit. Not only that, but I had to tell everyone we know in Sweden. Family and friends were mostly under the impression that Anna was not coming, and if they did not know, my big mouth made sure they found out. The way I looked at it, I was not breaking the secret or ruining the surprise, because I also told each person that it was a secret. Makes sense right?

Anna on the other hand may be praised with an amazing performance. She was the lead role and had to constantly put on the image that she missed us and was upset that we were here without her. Not only did she perform well, but she also had to tolerate missed planes, and thirty hours of travel to get here. On top of all of this, she is a full time student with jobs and a social life!

My father was the mastermind behind the whole operation. He was planning months in advance to try and get plane tickets for Anna. When Anna was clearly going to miss her connecting flight to Stockholm, he had to play it cool and look for ways to solve the problem without my mother even knowing.

My unsuspecting mother was actually surprised when she saw Anna standing in the door. She was completely dumbfounded. Upon seeing her, she stumbled backwards, just to make sure that her half century old eyes were actually seeing her daughter.

Everyone played their part and for the most part did not mess up, including myself despite my best efforts to be casual about the matter and my natural tendency to mess anything up that can be messed up. Dad receives the Tony for his production talent and his remarkable singing abilities and Anna receives the award of best lead actress. Mom however, was clearly the best in show.

Evidence

Downhill skiing in Sweden

If there is any sport that is the image of Sweden or any northern country, it is skiing. Whether it be cross country or downhill, skiing is the lifeblood of the people during the cold and dark months of the winter. When the snow begins to fall, and sun begins to rest earlier, there is one thing people can look forward to: skiing.

The skiing season does not truly begin until February when the nations’ States and Communes begin to take their winter break called Sport Lov (Sport Vacation). The vacations really apply more to the school children than the childless citizen. What is funny about Sport Lov, is that every different State or region within the country takes a different week off: maybe so that the ski areas do not get overloaded with people. For example, the southern most part of the country gets to take off during the seventh week of the year, the next northern region gets week eight, and Stockholm gets week nine. As a result of this system, the entire country functions on measuring vacations on which weeks they begin and take place.

On one of these Sport Lovs, you may decide to take your family skiing, which my family has always done. The downhill skiing however is sub par, but his is the place I learned how to ski. My perception is definitely biased, but you would be wrong to judge the place by the lack of vertical gain and loss. The snow here is probably closer to the snow of the West coast, but it comes down cold and it stays cold. There is rarely any ice, because it tends to snow just enough each night to build up enough of a new layer to ski on. The slopes are not very steep, and if they are, they do not remain steep for long. There are few chairlifts, and they are gaining popularity. Nonetheless, charging down a run here with perfectly groomed trails and varied steepness makes for an exciting downhill experience.

I went skiing with aunt Katarina and her family a couple of days ago. I had not seen my cousins’ ski in five years, and the last time I saw them ski, they were in harnesses getting held back by their mother. During our day at the ski slope, they were strong and confident skiers. My aunt comes from a long line of majestic skiers and watching her ski is exciting. Her feet remain completely solid and do not stray while her torso tilts from side to side. She makes any slope angle seem easy. Katarina and Janne’s children will easily become excellent skiers if they watch the form of their parents.

Above and below: Jenny and Anton with the Janne riding the lift.

I ski with my buddies up here often, but that usually results in a different experience. It is not as fun as skiing with the whole family mostly due to the amount of hurt I have after a couple of more challenging runs charged with testosterone. I usually miss my family whenever I ski with my friends, because skiing has always seemed like a family sport to me.

Week nine is by far the busiest week of the year in the ski regions of Sweden. On this week all of Stockholm’s schools get to take vacation. It results in traffic jams in the small rural grocery stores, lines at the ski slope, and generally more people find themselves in every nook and cranny the mountains have to offer. On week nine we had our friends Björn, Inger, and their son Isidor with us in the cabin.

Top left to bottom right: Isidor, mom, Inger, Björn, myself, and dad.

We went skiing with Björn and Isidor, and I taught Isidor how to snowboard. After seeing the learning experience again, I realized that I have completely forgotten how challenging it is to begin going down snow. After a number of face plants and falls on his ass powerful enough make him an inch shorter, Isi almost had it.

Björn, Isidor, and myself after our first day of skiing in Funäsdalen.

On this particular day, we went to a new ski slope that has been further developed since I have been gone. When I left five years ago, the ski slope was a small ski slope that functioned mostly as the schools ski slope for gym class, free periods, and playing hooky. It has now become a world-class ski resort with long steep slopes, which is uncharacteristic for Swedish ski slopes.

The custumary yardsale when learning to ride the lift.

On our second day skiing with Björn and Isidor, we went to our local ski slope. Isi got the chance to learn on the same ski slope I learned how to ski on. On this occasion we had a better learning environment, and by end of the day after countless face plants and painful whiplash, Isi finally got it. I do not think I have ever persevered and actually taught someone how to snowboard before, and the experience was uplifting. Isi’s last run of the day was flawless. I had a lot of fun being the teacher, but I felt guilty when Isi was the one who had to do all the work.


Isi on his second to last run. He almost had it until the face plant took him out!