Turne med Mormor: So I leanred how to ride a horse.

The next family member Mormor and I visited was my uncle John and aunt Eivor. They are dentists in a city called Söderhamn which lies on the coast due East of my great uncle Soren.

John and Eivor moved to a farm two years ago, and began riding horses. They now have two horses, Dino and Design, and enjoy their new lifestyle. While we were there, Mormor and I set to work raking the yard and helping with their wood for next season. The weather was 'halv dasit,' which translates to 'half outhouse,' which means that the weather was pretty bad.

During our visit, I got the chance to learn a little bit about horses. Uncle John and I went out on a ride one morning which resulted in a battering of my testicles and sore muscles for two days. I learned that horses are not like cars, they do not always make sense, and you have to take good care of them. The experience was great, and I would like to try riding again, but I have to figure out how to preserve my chances at giving Mormor great grandchildren.

Myself, Uncle John, Aunt Eivor, and Adorable Doris.

Eivor and Design.

The two Johns and Dino. Uncle John and I have fun nicknames since we have the same name. He is called Många John (Many John) and I am called Enkelt John (Single John or Simple John depending on how you look at it).

Uncle John harnessing the beast.

Sharing a sad farewell with Doris the Dog.

Eivor and the precious Doris.

Turne med Mormor: Soren och Birgitta

Mormor and I have been traveling through central Sweden visiting our family over the last two weeks. Most of the family we met were my second and third cousins, who we are remarkably close to. It was an amazing trip, and we had a blast. Mormor and I compliment each other quite well: we are forgetful and clumsy, we eat the same food, we like the same things, and we always have a lot to talk about. The next couple of posts will highlight the fun stuff we did on the trip and what I learned.

For the first part of the trip we hanged with my great uncle Soren and my great aunt Birgitta. These two are a riot. We ate every meal together, and Mormor and I worked in the yard like hobos for our room and board.

It was sad leaving these two, as always, because they really are some of the most special people in the whole country.

The normal mid-morning fika pause (tea time).

Typical Soren in full form.

Soren and Birgitta live over the river Ljusnan, which is the same river my grandmother raised her family on, except her and her brother are about 70 miles apart.

Doing some spring yard work. In Sweden they rake the leaves and the yard in the Spring so that the lawn can absorb the nutrients of foliage over the winter.

Soren used to be a barber and a hairdresser. He set up this basement salon/shop so that he could cut hair for friends and townspeople.

These are pictures of my great great grandparents on my great grandmothers side.

These are my great great grandparents on my great grandfathers side.

This is a painting of my great grandfather Ole Olmedal.

Moster Birgitta and I.

Myself, Moster Birgitta, and Morbro Soren.

Last Days in Tänndalen

My last day in Tänndalen has arrived, and I said farewell by taking a little ski tour up on Stor Hamra behind the house. Mormor came with me so that I could show off. I told her that I could top out in twenty minutes to encourage her to come along, and so that she would not have to wait for ever to see me ski. Believe it or not, I was not full of shit, and I topped out in twenty, although I could not have completed another run.

The skiing was as I expected perfect spring conditions. I have often skied on Hamra this winter, and skiing in the same place repeatedly certainly says a lot about a place. I am lucky to have such a gem right behind the family cabin. I am also fortunate enough to have a grandmother who can go out on a ski tour with me and be my camera gal (78 years old and still moving on skis: thank you for a wonderful season Mormor!).

I am looking forward to next season. This past week has offered enough blue sky to warrant rainy days for the rest of the year. Many thanks to the state of Härjedalen for putting up with an American!

This was our fuel for the day: Blood Pudding with fried salt pork (the red sauce on the side is not blood, but lingon berries).

Mormor breaking trail in the collapsing spring snow.

The Southern Shoulder of Left Hamra.

At the center of the picture there should be a little red dot. That red dot is my grandmother taking a picture of me, except on her blog it will say, "At the center of the picture there is a little blue dot, that is my handsome and amazing and crafty and strong grandson from America."

Mormor kindly waiting for me in the Fabövall underneath Hamra.

JW with Hamra in the backgorund.

The last turns of the Season.

This is me on the way up.

Last Days

My departure has come rather unexpectedly. I had planned on being here for one more week so that I could finish my projects, but it seems that I will be making the trip South a little bit sooner. I am sad that I have to leave, but the last couple of days have made it worth coming back!

Over the last week I have linked a wild bender into a full blown attack on two of my favorite mountains in the area.

It started with Afterski, which is a wild party up in the mountains preceded by several nights serious and varied partying. Helicopters shuttle people to and from the main event, which made it seem like a war zone. The party goes late into the night, and usually results in a interesting Sunday morning.

Over the days after the partying I saw my parents return home (due to the disappearance of the ash cloud), Avatar the movie (uhhh... OK), and way too much skiing.

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Afterski 1000 is the conclusion to the season. After this event event every store, shop, restaurant, hotel, and lift is closed until at least mid summer (June 21), if not until next December. It is a wild time highlighted by the finest of Swedish binge drinking.

Afterski 1000 starts at home until you somehow reach the parking lot at the lifts. From there, you take the lift up,

Norwegians enjoy Afterski too!

A bunch of happy pals, falling all over the place.

The way to the party is over the ski slope, and most of the journey was made on your ass or face.

The crowd at Afterski 1000: a couple hundred people dug into the hill side soaking up the sun.

Getting ready to do lawn work and play in the yard with my buddy Alfred and his mom Åsa.

Bocci Ball in the yard: not a bad way to have a pre-party.

The end of the partying scene was solidified after seeing my two homies finally take a break (Note that the dog was also taking a rest).

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After the partying, the skiing began. The first day was at Lil Skarven, which has become quite a hangout for me this season. The second day was on Lil Skarvens big brother, Stor Skarven. Both days resulted in sore legs, and a yearning to crush snow all next season. The Spring skiing here is the best I have ever done. The snow stays around until June, and if you go the the big mountains, you cannot tell the difference between Alaska and Sweden.

First blood: the first tracks of two days of a lot of vertical.

Checking out the potential lines.

My partner for my skiing this week was Emil Ohlsson, a truck driver from Stockholm who lives as a ski-bum in the winter.

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On the second day we went to the mountain next to Lil Skarven. Stor Skarven (Big Skarven) is a massive feature in the region, and has a facade of 200 meter cliffs. We chose a line that was very steep that lead to the base of the cliffs, and pretty much skied it until there was no snow left.

Emil skinning up Stor Skarven on Day 2 of the assault on the region.

Santa rides these things! A bunch of Reindeer were hanging at the top of Stor Skarven. I have never seen them run before, and the only way I can describe there gallop is by comparing them to giant rabbits.

The original steep and convex line on the South Shoulder of Stor Skarven. Skking here is the ultimate ego boost, because the cruxes are never too long.

My boy Emil laying it out in perfect Spring snow.

The steepest part of the South Shoulder.

Thats right, thats me trying to look pretty on Lower South Shoulder.

Coming in for landing.

We skied all over god's face!

Steep shot.

The before and After shot for the South Shoulder of Stor Skarven.

The next goal (Mt. Helags)

Just another morning of skiing

I took a ski tour this morning up on Hamra Fjället behind the cabin. I timed it perfectly: hiked up on cold and hard snow, and went down on warm soft snow.

There were a couple of centimeters of fresh wind blown snow, and beneath was that beautiful spring corn. I waxed my skis the other day, so I was in a pretty good place on the way down.

Two laps, and then back to the cabin for fika.

One of the lines I took. It was a weird way to go, because it was so convex that you could not see the line or the bottom. Pure Joy!