Norway 1997, 2002

It is no accident that Norway, the home of Telemark skiing, is a free-heel paradise. I have made two visits to Turtagro in the Jutenheimen mountains, enjoyed a variety of ski tours and the exuberant hospitality of the locals.

In 2002 I joined The White Planet ski tour by boat around the Lyngen Peninsula. We arrived in Tromso by air and after a short bus ride to the docks boarded the Polar Girl, a 42m former passenger ferry, with accommodation for 26. It seemed bizarre to be loading skis aboard a boat in the arctic sea and settling into our cabins that would be our base for the following week. The saloon was filled with a vibrant international hum – Norwegian, English (with American and Australian twangs), German and Swiss accents and various Italian dialects. All these languages were almost silenced in our appreciation of the delicious fresh fish soup.

After Dinner the Polar Girl powered up and headed north towards Ullsfjorden and we enjoyed the twinkling lights of the ‘Paris of the North’, eventually mooring off the island of Reinoya at Finnkroken. In the morning the Polar Girl crossed the Grotsundet channel and anchored off Ullstind. We prepared for the dingy transfer to the shore - donning life jackets over our ski jackets – a rather incongruous image to be associated with ski touring. We alighted on a small wooden jetty, handed back our life jackets and walked past fishing huts and netted fish drying racks, skinning up through birches towards the open slopes leading to Ullstinden at 1093m. The sky was grey but the spring snow ski down the other side to Oldervik very pleasant. The Polar Girl had sailed around to meet us and when we arrived on board the sauna was ready.

Each day we would cruise the fjord, anchor off and do a different route. This area is sparsely populated , a few small wooden houses along the shore. We visited a couple of small settlements including Havnes, with its vast fish drying barns, General Store and elegant wooden houses. Bob would be out on deck during every spare moment, happily sucking on a beer, baiting his hook and fishing in the clear cold water. For him the combination of ski touring and fishing was pure heaven.

The grandiose peaks and glaciers of the Lyngen Alps shone brightly on the night of a full moon and their light reflected into the Arctic Sea. Inspiring enough to tempt the first full female nude immersion after a very hot sauna. The shockingly cold temperature allowing a descent down the ladder and a meagre three second dip into the refreshing salt water.

One day when we awoke to a temperature rise, wind and rain I got as far as putting my skis on before memories of Scottish skiing experiences had me catching the last dinghy back to Polar Girl and my book. Lisa Nicholas, an old friend and cabin mate was already tucked up with hers and we celebrated our fortunate position of living in the mountains and being able to pick and chose our ski days. The group, determined to tough out the weather, was divided into two. The larger group, led by Mauro and Andrea, had set off ahead. The smaller group, was with John – all the guides taking the safest route up the benches, through the trees and up the ridge.

Having reached a point where honour was satisfied under such appalling weather conditions Mauro’s group skied down, and out of sight of John, they stopped to refuel out of the wind below a rocky outcrop. A couple of snowboarders, following John (who was by then on the ridge), finding the climb on foot easier by taking a more direct line, broke through the lower snow pack and a crack zipped across the main slope releasing a huge avalanche. Thousands of tons of snow curled around the contours of the terrain burying eight people in the resting group below. Immediately John and Mauro were into rescue mode. On board Polar Girl we were alerted to a possible tragedy. Jumping into clothes, packing rescue gear, we made the dinghy trip to land with prayers, doubts and hopes crowding our minds. Meanwhile John and Mauro had pin pointed every buried body and everybody else was furiously digging them out. It was a copybook rescue. Everybody was accounted for, alive and breathing albeit bruised, battered and shocked.

We returned to the boat where the captain had arranged for a helicopter to collect those needing x-ray check ups and stitches. We all agreed, during debrief, that the job of the guides was an unenviable one. Caught between providing clients with the adventure that they yearned for and the inherent, ever-present dangers of the mountain environment. The risk of injury is always present in skiing and that risk increases by seeking adventures in wild places. However, that is part of its appeal, the lure of adventure. Sport is not sport without danger. We were appropriately equipped and with guides who had more than proved their worth in adversity.

On our return to Tromso, the rescue authority – now alert to the avalanche danger for groups such as ours – had John advise them on their rescue equipment in case a group was unable to administer self-rescue. More and more groups are coming to this area for ski touring and it is inevitable that their expertise will be required in the future.

Thanks to: Polar Charter and White Planet – Mauro Girardi, John Falkiner, Andrea, Lisa Nicholas (photos and fun), Rolf Hunziker (Swiss imports), Bob Mazarei (loan of fishing rod), Dr Tito Bertoni (for being Grande) and everybody else for being such good sports.