The Deep Issue
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A Norwegian outdoor journal about people, places and moments. This issue is about skiing and ski culture.
Norrøna Magazine The Deep Issue
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The Hurrungane mountain massif in Western Norway. Photo: Vegard Aasen
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Deep Document Generation Gravity
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A young skier in front of her parent’s old truck in the parking lot at Whitewater Ski Resort near Nelson, BC, Canada.
Photos: Kari Medig
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Deep Capturing A World of Skiers
Hands down the best SUV for getting to the slopes in Tachedirt, Morocco.
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Norrøna-ambassador Nikolai Schirmer in the Lyngen Alps in Northern Norway. Photo: Anders Møller Vestergård
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Deep Dialogue The Snow Philosopher
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Contents 6 7
Contents
Norrøna Magazine The Deep Issue
Editor-in-Chief
Eivind Eidslott
Photo Editor
Chris Holter
Art Director
Ole Sletten
Creative Editor
Torstein Greni
Journalists Alexander Urrang Hauge Anders Waage Nilsen Hiroyoshi Soma Kari Medig Kristin Folsland Olsen Nikolai Schirmer Per Asbjørn Risnes jr. Illustrator
Peter-John de Villiers
Translator
Doug Mellgren
English Copy Editor Colin Field Marketing Director Martin Lien Digital Storyteller
Elisa Røtterud
Team Responsible Julie Uggen Imaging
Townhouse Lab
Print Stibo Complete Paper
250 g Arctic Silk 100 g Galerie Fine Bulk
Norrøna Magazine is a Norwegian outdoor journal about people, places and moments. Norrøna Magazine is published annually and distributed through Norrøna’s web store, through Norrøna’s brand stores and retailers around the world. You can order copies of Norrøna Magazine at norrona.com
Photographers Anders Møller Vestergård Anders Mordal Andrew Drummond Axel Adolfsson Bård Basberg Cedric Bernardini Chris Holter Christoffer Schach Fredrikke Sofie Jerring Frode Sandbech Getty Images Hallvard Kolltveit Hiroshi Suganuma Hiroyoshi Soma James Cripps Jeremy Bernard Jonathan Finch Jørgen Aamodt Kari Medig Krister Kopala Kristin Folsland Olsen Makoto Takahashi Martin I. Dalen Masanari Tonosaki Matthias Fritzenwallner Mattias Fredriksson Nikolai Schirmer Peter Wojnar Simen Aarset Gjeksvik Ståle Johan Aklestad Stefan Bogner Sverre Hjørnevik Tor Olav Naalsund Turtagrø Vegard Aasen Wakayama Yasuo
Norrøna Sport AS Vollsveien 13H N – 1366 Lysaker Norway (+47) 66 77 24 00 marketing@norrona.com norrona.com Welcome to nature
Cover and this spread: Norrøna-ambassador Nikolai Schirmer skiing powder in Måndalen, Romsdal, Western Norway. Photos: Mattias Fredriksson
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Deep Intro Deep Document Deep Involvement Deep Experience Deep Capturing Deep Dialogue Deep Knowledge Deep Living Deep Secrets Deep Year Deep Enthusiasm Deep in Japan Deep Lines Deep Pleasures Deep Into Lyngen Deep Memories
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Deep Intro
Deep Intro 8 9
Between the Lines
We are many. We are different. We live in big cities, in the countryside, in houses, in apartments, in camper vans. We are 23-years-old, four-years-old, 44-years-old, 89-years-old. We’re professionals, amateurs, beginners. We live in the north or south, in the east or west. We may hold differing beliefs. Listen to experimental jazz or death metal. We have buckets of money or hardly a penny. We’re rich as a king or poor as a church mouse. None of that matters much when it comes down to this.
During the epic 1998-99 season, 28.96 meters of precipitation was measured in the form of snow on Mount Baker in the United States. That is a world record – for now. But every winter, completely different and much more important records are set for all of us who love skiing and snowboarding. Maybe there’ll be a record snowfall right outside our houses or at our local ski resort, or on the mountain we traveled so far to climb. Maybe we’ll finally have the chance to set the turn we long dreamed of on that mountain flank, in that couloir, or in those woods, all of which leads to record-breaking excitement. Or maybe we constantly have to take turns leading on a ski tour because the snow is so deep, so fresh, so feather light that the climb to the top is record long, it takes hours more than usual, and everyone is dog-tired, but no one cares. There’s just laughter and joy, expectation and anticipation, with our whole body tingling as we prepare to ski back down. In deep snow.
Because we share a common wealth. A common passion. A common dream. Snow.
Scientifically, this is what happens: “Snow is formed when water vapor is deposited in the higher areas of the atmosphere at temperatures of less than zero degrees centigrade. Ice crystals stick to each other to form snowflakes, which then fall to the ground.” But snow seldom feels scientific. Snow is enigmatic, unfathomable, paradoxical. Snow makes us both serious and playful. Snow requires risk assessments, but highlights the spontaneity in us. Snow can be deadly, but creates life. Snow may not render us weightless, but refines our movements into something more elegant, sophisticated – sometimes graceful – all in white. Snow is sometimes an opera: Wild, grandiose, dramatic. Other times, snow is a simple riff, a rhythm, a tone that strikes a chord with you. It is said that no two snow crystals are alike. In the same way, no two winters are exactly the same. Or no two skiers. Precisely this inequality is a gift, an eternal source of inspiration, of innovation.
Welcome to The Deep Issue. Welcome to nature.
Eivind Eidslott Editor-in-Chief Photo: Frode Sandbech
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Deep Document Generation Gravity
The daredevils of the ’90s left a lasting mark on the Hurrungane massif. Steep skiing arrived in Norway in earnest.
Text: Anders Waage Nilsen Photo: Jørgen Aamodt, Tor Olav Naalsund, Vegard Aasen and Turtagrø private
Snow patches cling to black rock cliffs. The Skagastøl ridge dips in and out of the fog. It is spring in the lowlands, but winter hangs on at the top of the Hurrungane mountain range. Two young men, Tor Olav Naalsund and Jørgen Aamodt, work their way up the glacier. The friends are driven by a strange dream, the dream of skiing steep lines. The east side of Vesle Skagastølstind peak is a no-go place for most people. The face gets steeper and steeper; it feels as if gravity gains power on the plunge from the cracked Styggebreen and pulls puny humans down into the abyss. Has anyone ever been here with skis on their feet in the winter? Is it possible to ski this at all? The first-timers absorb the brutal surroundings with all their senses. Naalsund can still recall the feeling of doubt. “I will never forget that first run. We were skiing in this type of terrain for the first time: large snow flanks, glacial terrain, cornices. The conditions were not optimal at all; this was foreign territory to us. We did almost everything wrong on that trip,” he says today – 25 years or so later.
Above: The profiles of the Riingstind and Austanbotntind summits in Hurrungane. Before the skiing renaissance in Hurrungane in the 1990s, these remarkable mountains were almost forgotten.
Below: Most skiers prefer the regular routes in the Hurrungane Mountains, but if the conditions are safe there are plenty of couloirs and flanks to choose from.
The Hurrungane range is as much a feeling as a mountain massif. The voracious and jagged teeth-like peaks and glaciers west of Jotunheimen have always evoked fear and fascination. A crescendo of spectacular geology, it is the final chord before Jotunheimen crashes down in the waters of Sognefjord. At first glance, a sibling group of unruly mountains in perpetual topographic youth revolt. But as you get to know them, the peaks take on unique personalities. Dyrhaugstind. Nordre Skagastølstind and Soleiebotntind are at the forefront and demand the attention of passers-by. Store Skagastølstind stands in the background with unassailable confidence. Behind them, the darker, more bloodthirsty Gjertvasstind, Styggedalstind and Sentraltind are in hiding. Riingstind is the most picturesque, Lauvnostind, the kind little brother greeting you at the gate. The area is an iconic part of Norwegian landscape history. Here, glaciers have gnawed at the remains of gabbro stone from the Caledonian mountain range for millions of years. The result is a star-shaped series of sharp ridges that reach more than 2,000 meters into the sky in some places. Every winter, the entire complex structure is plastered with ice and snow, the glaciers replenished and cornices form spectacular overhangs. The labyrinth of valleys’ sharp edges, gullies, and icefalls is hard to grasp. The terrain constantly reveals new secrets.
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Left: The Turtagrø Hotel has been the base camp for both climbers and skiers in the Hurrungane Mountains for a long time. This picture shows the old hotel – long before the fire in 2001. Now, the new Turtagrø Hotel is standing at the same place.
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Right: As many of the routes are north facing in the Hurrungane area, one might experience good snow conditions until very late in the season.
“Thousands of travellers of all social classes have passed through here over the years, but the Horungtinder waved to them in vain; not a single one has felt the urge to pay them a closer visit,” wrote Norwegian geologist Balthazar Keilhau when he first described the mountain area in 1870. Keilhau’s words worked like reverse psychology. The story of the impregnable peaks aroused curiosity rather than disdain. In the budding industrial society, adventurers, others with delusions of grandeur and nature-romantic souls took part in an ascent race in the decades leading up to the turn of the century. In Hurrungane, British noble boys have become men; delicate artists have been shaken to the soul, silent mountain farmers have left their unmistakable mark on national history. Many wanted to be the first, beginning with the attractive summits, eventually up the most spectacular routes. The number of visitors formed the basis for the first accommodation in the area: the Turtagrø Hotel, officially opened in 1888. Every summer and autumn, sightseers, hikers, and climbers from Norway
and abroad came to explore the area. In a period marked by nation-building leading up to Norway’s independence from Sweden in 1905, the hotel became a meeting place for leading politics, art and business figures. Then it gradually quieted down.
to break new ground. He was convinced that skiing could bring new life to Vest Jotunheimen and that spring would represent the future key season. The only question was how he was going to make it happen.
Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the mist of oblivion rose and veiled the peaks. Throughout the 20th century, the place was once again pushed to the periphery. In the 1970s, the sport of climbing changed: spandex trousers and bolt lines replaced leather boots and hemp ropes. A hundred years after the heyday, both the hotel and the surrounding mountains were mainly visited by nostalgic, elderly climbers. Except for some infrequent visits by bearded mountaineers on winter climbs, the mountains stood in solitude during the cold season.
As he wondered these questions Jørgen Aamodt and Tor Olav Naalsund came tumbling through the hotel entrance. They had made the first descent from Vesle Skagastølstind. Ole’s hotel door was wide open, and the two skiers received both lodging and fine brandy. “We can thank Ole Drægni for inspiring us to be so eager to continue exploring the area during winter. He saw the potential, probably much more than we did. He spent his childhood here. He knew the climbing history very well and understood better than anyone that ski touring adventures could bring new life to Turtagrø,” says Tor Olav.
Then Ole Drægni came into the picture. He took over the operation of Turtagrø Hotel in the mid-‘90s as the fourth generation in the Drægni family. Ole was an entrepreneurial and adventurous personality. As early as 1991, he contributed to the establishment of Tinderittet, a mountain Telemarking competition down from Store Dyrhaugstind. His hopes for the hotel’s future were as high as the mountains surrounding him. Ole had travelled a lot and had gained new impulses; the young and visionary hotel manager steered by an inner compass was not afraid
Tor Olav and Jørgen are now among Norway’s most experienced UIAGM-certified mountain guides. Both found their way out into steep mountains through a passion for downhill skiing, both on and off groomed slopes. After a period as Telemark skiers (Tor Olav was on the national team), they discovered that alpine hiking equipment provided more opportunities. The drive to explore Hurrungane on skis came when they both took a glacier course on Smørstabbreen glacier a year earlier. From the peaks further east, they could see white-clad
mountainsides that plunged into Styggedalen valley. Both felt the same inexplicable attraction. How would it feel to make ski tracks down such dramatic mountains? Ole understood early on that they represented precisely the kind of mountain people Turtagrø should attract. They were explorers, seeing possibilities with fresh eyes. Their similarity to the first climbers a hundred years earlier was unmistakable. He wanted to recreate the story. A selection of highly skilled skiers got special treatment at his hotel in the seasons to come. Ole called them occasionally to discuss options or tip them about opportunities. Arne Litlere was among those who regularly joined such trips, and at one point, did the long drive from the city of Stavanger to Turtagrø several weekends in a row. Another profile was now deceased Fredrik Ericsson, who brought french steep skiing experience after several seasons in Chamonix. “Some of the runs we did were challenging and risky. They required good planning and we had to pick days carefully. I especially remember skiing down the run from Gjertvasstind to Maradalen, which I did with Fredrik Ericsson. We saw this route on an aerial photo, I think it was a picture in the old climbing guide for Jotunheimen. It seemed to us like a very inaccessible line.
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Above: Kodak moments. The skiers Tor Olav Naalsund, Jørgen Aamot and Arne Litlere captured in different trips in the Hurrungane mountain range, including first descents from both Skagastølsryggen and Dyrhaugsryggen.
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Right: The Hurrungane mountain massif in Western Norway started to attract steep skiers in the late ‘90s.
We were in the area for several weeks before conditions finally improved,” says Jørgen. For Ericsson and him, the joint trips into the heart of Sogn became the start of a lasting friendship and eventually a common desire to explore downhill skiing on even more giant mountains. Together they skied from Laila Peak and Gasherbrum 2 (Elevation: 8,034 meters) in Pakistan and Kangchenjunga in Nepal. Fredrick later died in an attempt to climb K2. Jørgen Aamot does not deny that the decision to put climbing skins on his skis in the western part of Jotunheimen left its mark on his life. “The experiences in Hurrungane ignited a glow that has not yet gone out. I saw that what we did in Hurrungane we could also do in other countries,” he says. For Jørgen, the motivation was never about making history, which he did anyway. Back at Turtagrø, the first descents
in the area were meticulously documented, in the same way as climbing trips were logged a hundred years earlier. Many of these records were lost when the main building at the hotel burned to the ground in 2001, but the legends live on as inspiring tales. The pioneer period created bonds of friendship and attention. Articles and pictures from the trips made people curious about the area. The locals’ favourite mountains won a national audience. In 2001, High Camp, the annual Norwegian summit hike gathering, was held for the first time, next to the fire ruins. Every year since the number of ski trails in the area has increased. Mountains that were once untracked during much of the winter are now crowded with ski touring enthusiasts. Sadly, Ole Drægni did never got to experience this, as he died in the tsunami in the Indian Ocean in 2004. Spring has become the new high season and some of the trips that were previously only known to those with an especially keen interest are now described in tour guides and are popular slopes for expert skiers. But his daughter Sofie is now running the hotel. Tor Olav thinks with ambivalence back on some of the steepest trips. As a mountain guide, he has devoted much of his life to skiing, but he prefers less risky runs today.
“The experiences in Hurrungane ignited a glow that has not yet gone out. I saw that what we did in Hurrungane we could also do in other countries.” He has been close to people who died seeking the best ski lines. He fears that people without the necessary experience might be driven by prestige. “I must admit that there was an element of wanting to make history in the very beginning. The way I looked at it back then, steep skiing was akin to climbing. Being the first to run a line created an element of exploration – you get to know both the mountains and your inner limits. At a certain stage of life, putting yourself in difficult and dangerous situations can be fascinating. Today I see that they involve an element of risk that is very difficult to eliminate,” he says. He still feels the joy of great ski lines but found his way back to telemark skis, which means seeking challenges in somewhat gentler and less dangerous terrain. For Jørgen, the attraction of new, steep lines in the mountains has never completely let go. “I have become more and more familiar with the
mountains in Hurrungane. It is a compact mountain area, with lots of opportunities. I am usually there at work as a guide, but occasionally I have the chance to explore things I haven’t done before, first and foremost to find out if it is possible. Many lines are dependent on specific conditions in glaciers and snowpack. A few years ago, I skied a line that I noticed 15 years earlier. I made three attempts on that route before it was finally possible,” says Aamot, that feels no need to repeat his lines. “After a first descent, I’m done with it. The adventure is over as soon as I’m back down in the valley. The challenge of moving into the unknown is the very essence of this for me,” he says. The two skiers are essential characters in this fairy tale of modern skiing in Hurrungane, but they are not alone. In 1998, Petter Bolstad and Kristoffer Borgenhov skied one of the most brutal lines in the area, from the top of Styggedalstind down to the glacier – a line that can have an up to 60-degree incline. Helge Stokstad is another name that appears in the archives. He is a climber who explored several lines in the area, both in Skagadalen and Ringsdalen. Other enthusiasts also contributed to the exploration of Hurrungane in the ’90s. One of them is Pelle Gangeskar, known as the initiator of the Røldal Freeride Challenge. From 1995 and the years that followed, he explored several of the lines in the area with good friends.
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“I grew up skiing at a cabin at Eidsbugarden. We skied many steep mountain slopes further east and south in Jotunheimen. From peaks like Urdanostinden and Falketind, we always looked longingly in the direction of Hurrungene,” Gangeskar says. Finding a climbing guide for Jotunheimen in 1994 added to his curiosity. When he got the guidebook, he quickly realized that a shortcut via the Tindevegen mountain road could extend his playpen. “We were not systematic. We carried the skis with us on a wing and a prayer. We searched for nice, steep lines – including up the gully at Austabotntind,
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at Solleiebotntind, and as far as we could make it up Nordvestrenna at Storen,” says Gangeskar. But were they first? Several skiers and climbers claim to have left their mark in the area. In the ’90s, a rumour circulated that a group of visiting daredevils from abroad did the lines in the 1980s. Maybe that isn’t so important. A cultural shift happened in the ’90s, a new set of aspirations defined a generation of skiers, a similar dream evolved in several heads at once. Many of the first descents of the pioneer era are now classics.
Above: A lot of peaks linked by sharp ridges open up a range of mountaineering adventures that can be explored and combined with steep skiing.
Right: The Store Skagastølstind in the background is considered the major mountain in the Hurrungane range.
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Above: Most of the ski lines and tours of the area are documented in the Toppturar in Sogn guidebook, published by Fri Flyt. Some of the first descents are also documented in the Skifører for Hurrungane, published as an appendix to the Jotunheimen climbing guide. No longer available, but you may find it in a public library in Norway.
Right: Ski mountaineers become small among the great mountains of the Hurrungane massif, Norway.
“Today, the terrain in Hurrungane is used in a completely different way than in the early ’90s. One of the causes is, of course, development of better equipment. There was a limit to how steep we could ski with low boots and narrow mountain skis,” says Steinar Bruheim, who had his first summit hikes in the area in the 1980s and knows the area well.
Arne Litlere is a name often mentioned on several of the claimed first descents in the area. The family man now lives in Molde and is still an avid skier. Occasionally he misses the feeling of skiing in steep surroundings. To this day, he can feel the time he went down from the gorge behind Vesle Skagastølstind to Styggedalen. The powder swings down the glacier, the mountain pillar that towered over them, the narrow passage they suddenly discovered, which was the key down into safer terrain.
The combination of a fixed heel and inspiration from Europe can explain why the Hurrungene made it back onto the map. In the ’90s, more Norwegians went ski bumming in the Alps. They were exposed to ski touring, steep lines and tall tales from crazy French couloirs. During this time, European steep-skiers – such as Patrick Vallençant, Jean-Marc Boivin and Swiss Sylvain Saudan – also began to gain legendary status in some circles. Through the Internet, information spread faster, and new inspiration became available to a wider audience.
“The first time I saw the white-clad flanks that plunged into Styggedalen, I was a young boy. I stood on Fanaråken with my brothers. ‘One day, those lines will be skied by a crazy Frenchman,’ I said at the time. Some 15 years later, I did the run myself.”
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“‘One day those mountainsides will be skied by a crazy Frenchman,’ I said at the time. Some 15 years later, I did the run myself.” – Arne Litlere
Facts
General tips on downhill skiing in Hurrungane 1. Walk up what you plan to ski If you have a steep skiing project, you should familiarize yourself with the terrain you want to descend. Remember also that moving in gullies and exposed mountainsides involves a real risk, with regard to avalanches, fractures and rock falls. 2. Be equipped for demanding situations If you are going to move in steep terrain, you should bring equipment to deal with demanding situations. In addition to avalanche equipment, this includes first aid equipment, crampons, ice
axes and equipment for rope rescue. On many trips it can also be a good idea to have equipment for rappelling. Remember that many of the trips take place on glaciers, and that such safety equipment as anchors may be recommended. 3. Wait until after the snow settles Hiking in steep terrain on layered winter snow is very risky, even for experts. You should wait until well into the spring to ensure that the snow cover has melted or stabilized. Remember that snow conditions will be very different at different heights. 4. Always have margins Steep skiing places great demands on judgment, safety techniques and skiing skills. It also requires the ability to read terrain and move safely in
groups. In other words: Avoid taking on major challenges until you have gained experience and acquired the skills to handle demanding situations. 5. Beware of drifts Traveling in alpine terrain often means following mountain formations. Many have died as a result of incorrectly assessing the danger of drifts. Drifts often break at a 45-degree angle inward, and sometimes drifts can be overhanging. 6. Wait until the conditions are right If you have a project that is demanding – do not let yourself be pressured to start if the conditions are suboptimal. Several of the routes are very steep, with potential fatal consequences in the event of an avalanche.
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Deep Involvement
Norrøna’s Ski Tracks
Text: Eivind Eidslott Photo: Wakayama Yasuo, Martin I. Dalen, Frode Sandbech and private
Jørgen Jørgensen – owner and CEO at Norrøna – tells the story of Norrøna’s commitment to ski wear. Plus, he presents great news: three brand new Norrøna skis.
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This is a story with deep roots. This is a story of the joy of being in the great outdoors: regardless of season and preferably in the winter, when it has snowed a lot, and the weather conditions are so demanding that many decide to stay indoors. This is a story about how a Norwegian outdoor gear company started small, grew larger, refined a clear design strategy and grew even larger. To the point that they are now associated with steep freeriding around the globe. It started over 90 years ago. The year was 1929. Jørgen Jørgensen, a Norwegian visionary, started work on developing reliable outdoor equipment that could be used in the Norwegian wilderness. He started with simple things like leather straps, cotton garments and canvas backpacks. That’s how he staked out Norrøna’s direction: look for the most advanced technical innovations and turn them into the ultimate products for tough conditions. Today – four generations later – Jørgen Jørgensen’s great-grandson is at the helm of Norrøna. He bears his great-grandfather’s name. The enthusiasm – and commitment – to skiing and ski culture runs deep. Can you remember when you started skiing, Jørgen? I was five-years-old when I started skiing. When I was 11, legendary designer and mountaineer Tomas Carlström showed me how to Telemark ski on the slopes in the mountain village of Hemsedal. Then I started freeriding outside the slopes. I liked it right away! Eventually we started to jump from cliffs and stuff like that. The gang around Tomas in the shop Skandinavisk Høyfjellsutstyr had been freeriding for many years, so they influenced me a lot. We mostly skied in Hemsedal and in Jotunheimen. After I switched to ski touring around 2001, there were many trips to northern parts of Norway as well, especially to Lofoten, Lyngen and Senja. Above: Jørgen Jørgensen started the outdoor company Norrøna in 1929. Today, his grand-grandson – with the same name – runs the company. Below: Jørgen Jørgensen (47) is the owner and CEO of Norrøna.
When did Norrøna really start to get involved in modern skiing? Norrøna collaborated with K2’s ski and snowboard team as early as in the mid-80s. They chose Norrøna’s trollveggen suit, a Gore-Tex jacket and Gore-Tex pants specially developed for big wall climbing, as their attire. It actually was a missed opportunity for us at Norrøna, because even back then we could have developed a modified variant of the trollveggen set that would have been better suited to skiing.
Jørgen Jørgensen in one of his favourite landscapes – the Lofoten islands in Northern Norway.
But you responded quickly to the Norwegian Telemark ski wave? Yes, I would say that Norrøna’s involvement started in earnest with Telemarking. In the late ‘80s we developed a calico set with leather reinforcements that many of the classic Telemarkers used. Then we produced our Telemark suits in 1994. This was the first hybrid garment I know of – in microfibre – and with waterproof knees, shoulders and elbows. Then came our first pure ski jacket in Gore-Tex, the Couloir jacket, in 1998. I remember it well! We were sent a jacket for testing when we started a Norwegian ski magazine the same year. How would you describe it today? This jacket was a newly developed freeride jacket, with two layers of Gore-Tex and some insulation. Many skiers liked it a lot, and it was especially nice at ski resorts when you wanted a little insulation while on the T-bar or chairlift. Shortly afterwards, in 2000, our ambassador team began to develop the narvik series. This was our first freeride series, with a slightly different style expression and other colors. It came on the market in 2003. It was also the first time we launched our own women’s collection. Those of us who worked with ski wear at the time hoped that the new ski collection would sell, but we may not have expected it to become as big as it did. We thought more about making very good products, premium quality. Basically, we decided to make the best of the best. And that was also the start of the legendary lofoten collection? Yes. The first lofoten products came on the market in 2004. Then we were way ahead and in many ways redefined how to think about ski wear. For the first time, someone designed and made an uncompromising freeride collection from the ground up.
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Above: Jørgen Jørgensen studies one of the brand new Norrøna skis in Endre Hals’ workshop in Oppdal, Norway. The new skis will be launched autumn 2021. Below: Endre Hals, a famous ski maker in Norway, giving one of the new Norrøna skis a final touch.
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Where did the inspiration come from? I had skied myself for many years and had a lot of ideas and thoughts along the way. The same went for the good people on our ski team: Torkel Karoliussen, Bjarke Mogens and Ragnar Tøndel. We have great teamwork in Norrøna, with good discussions and many innovations. There was a lot of trial and error with the prototypes. ‘It doesn’t look quite right. We have to do it a little different, maybe like this?’ We had to do a few laps before we got the look we were after. Did you already have a clear design strategy at the time? No, not really. We just worked on it until we thought something was right. And then the colors came in. The ski team thought that the clothes at that time were too dark, that we should use colors to be more visible. So we sewed some really colorful prototypes, and at the same time the water-repellent zippers turned up. They eventually came in colors, as well, so we used them as part of the design expression. The lofoten series was a small design revolution in itself? Yes, you could say that. For example, we introduced some clear ideas on the lofoten pants. We put aramid, a fabric often used on motorcycle pants, at the bottom where the steel edges of the skis tend to tear the fabric of the trouser leg. That was a hugely expensive, but super solid solution. Our new garments were a good mix of technology, design and ideas, both internally and externally, from our ambassadors and from the Norrøna staff. Our philosophy around functionality and a different design meant that we were welcomed in many ski circles around the world. And that, in turn, drew more attention to Norrøna as a brand than any expensive advertising campaign would have done. Eventually we realized that the development of the lofoten collection created a clear
Jørgen Jørgensen and Endre Hals are launching three brand new Norrøna ski models in autumn 2021. The skis will be handmade and produced in limited numbers.
design strategy that we could use throughout Norrøna. We called it ‘loaded minimalism,’ and we use this strategy to this day. You have some big news up your sleeve? Yes. We are happy to announce the launch of the brand new Norrøna skis! We are collaborating with industrial designer Endre Hals in the mountain village of Oppdal on this. For many years, he has run a small ski factory and operates on the same design and quality philosophy as Norrøna. Put simply, Endre makes skis one at a time, so if a lot of people want these new Norrøna skis there may be a waiting list. But these skis are worth waiting for? Yes, because these are skis for really good skiers. For those who want the toughest skis for high speed and demanding conditions. The skis will match our collections. We’re launching the lyngen ski as the lightest, but still a good freeride ski. Lofoten will be a ski for big mountains and ski mountaineering. Tamok becomes a powder plank de luxe. How important is the ski clothing collections for Norrøna right now? I would say that they are very important. Many people see Norrøna as a brand for skiers. We have created a clear position in the market. All of us who work at Norrøna love winter, skiing and snowboarding – and we work really hard to remain a leader in design, functionality, quality and sustainability.
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Deep Experience
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Bundle of Energy
“I never even thought about not being able to do it. I knew I would stand on that summit. If you just keep going, you’ll make it. If you have enough food and enough time, and wait for the right weather window, you will make it.” Norrøna Ambassador Merrick Mordal was 12-years-old when, in 1995, she became the youngest ever to climb Denali, the highest mountain in the United States. Together with her mother and a guided group, she climbed the 6,190-meter-high mountain in Alaska. “It was nice to reach the summit, but it wasn’t like I thought: “Wow, now I have nailed my dream.” It was more like, ”yeah, now I’m finally up and running!” Energetic. In skiing circles, Merrick (38) is known as the one who is always geared up on the trip, does backflips and runs the steepest slopes on skis. Ropes and harnesses are often part of the package. “If you don’t get to do the run you planned that day, you can always build a jump. I like the playfulness and determination needed for jumping on skis. Also, it keeps you in shape.” Merrick lives in Tromsø with her Norwegian husband Anders Mordal (45) and their two children ages eight and five. On top of working as a project manager for a waste management company, Merrick runs the company Tromsø Ski Guides with partner Lena Dahl. During the afternoon, she coaches both gymnastics and football. That is, when she’s not on the climbing hall – or invited to ‘drytool Mondays’ at home in the garage. In other words, climbing with an ice axe and crampons on a self-built steep wall ‘as an alternative to coffee klatches’. In other words, Merrick has tons of energy and is good at logistics. It’s been that way for as long as she can remember. Alaska Playground. When Merrick, as a 10-year-old, decided to climb Denali, her mother let her daughter believe she organized the trip herself, while mom actually pulled the strings in the background. Together they worked towards the goal. “My mother had wanted to do more treks for a long time, but hadn’t had the chance.”
Text: Kristin Folsland Olsen Photo: Anders Mordal and Bård Basberg
She started ice climbing when she was 8 and conquered the highest mountain in the United States as a 12-year-old. Now Merrick Mordal is juggling life as a ski guide and mother in Tromsø.
With a businessman father, and two big brothers who didn’t care much for the outdoors, Merrick and her mother became the mountain team. With a home address in Anchorage, Alaska, it was easy to get out. “My mother learned outdoorsmanship with me. I started ice climbing when I was eight because she wanted to learn it.”
The duo took an avalanche course and a rock-climbing course. They went for long hikes with heavy rocks in their backpacks and slept in snow caves. At age 10, Merrick had already been on month-long expeditions in the Alaskan wilderness. “It was a good period, but it was also hard. There was a lot of freezing and little comfort. For my mother, it was important to get out in all kinds of weather. Always. My upbringing was marked by ‘tough love’.” Diversity. After the trip to Denali, Merrick continued to learn at a record pace. As a 14-year-old, she started working as an assistant guide on large mountains – and she took part in a first ascent of a 40-rope-long route on Dragon Spine. On the 24-hour trip, she became so dehydrated that her few drops of urine were completely brown. The active teenager also did other sports. From the age of 14 to 18, she was on the US national junior snowboard team. “I was thrown off the national team because I got drunk at a party. But when I won the American national competition, I was automatically back on the team.” The desire to compete on snowboards was still there, but the idea was shelved because of the high cost of taking time off from university studies. Her focus then was on school and mountains. At age 18, she was an assistant guide at Denali. “There were 12 men on that trip. We were doing a difficult route and I felt a lot of pressure to make it happen.” Merrick talks about unpleasant experiences. Sexual harassment and exclusion. It was not easy for a young girl to be on a demanding high mountain hike for three weeks with only adult males. “The trip went okay, but it took a long time to process everything that happened. I was exhausted and lonely – and had no one to talk to about it. I missed female role models.” New drive. After that Denali climb, Merrick lost the desire to guide. It was also difficult to find friends who were her equal in the mountaineering circles of Anchorage. Her male friends were not allowed by their girlfriends to go on expeditions with Merrick. She was always left out of the toughest treks. And she wanted tough. Push hard and reach for it. Become as skilled as possible in the mountains. “I missed a mentor in the mountain sports community.”
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“I don’t want to live a life of fear, but I also don’t want to take unnecessary risks. It is inevitable that I have a lot of time being exposed to risk in the mountains.”
Trondheim. She was well received there and treated as a full partner from the first touch of her ski pole.
She decided to move to Jackson Hole, Wyoming, which turned out to be a good idea.
In the United States, it was always about maximizing the number of climbing routes or laps on skis. There was stress and time pressure. Food was just something you shoved into your mouth along the way. In Norway, Merrick discovered much simpler logistics. There was no need for bush planes or pack rafts to get out. And there was never any hike worth mentioning.
“In that area – the Tetons – I became one of the gang. I developed faster and gained more control. Suddenly people wanted to go on treks with me. Other guides would teach me things. They showed me that I could find a balance between guiding and doing my own projects where I could push the envelope.” While tearing through the mountains, Merrick took a master’s degree in geophysics. The plan was to go on for a doctorate. But on vacation at home in Alaska, she met the Norwegian who told her about eight-hour workdays and five-week vacations. Fun trip. “This is the place!” Merrick switches to American English as she enthusiastically describes her first meeting with Norway. In 2007, she got an internship at Statoil (now Equinor) in
“I didn’t grow up with ‘coziness’ or having candles on a tent trip. I never thought of finding a nice lunch spot and then sitting down to eat.”
“In Norway, there is no pressure. It’s just fun! For the first time in my life, I managed to calm down.” The fearless woman from Alaska was sold. It was not Norway’s outdoors and good working conditions alone that she loved. She’d also met Anders, now her husband. The plan for a doctorate was shelved – and after a few years in Trondheim, their new home address was Harstad. Golden handshake. “I wanted to move to north Norway. It’s a little like Alaska. And I had been able to keep the good job at Statoil.”
Left: “For the first time in my life, I managed to calm down,” says Norrøna-ambassador Merrick Mordal about moving to Norway.
Above: Merrick Mordal is currently training to become a certified ski guide.
After six years in Harstad, Merrick gave herself an unintentional kick in the behind when she accidentally applied for a severance package at work. She had only been curious about how much she might get paid. “I had long thought about the idea of doing peak guide training (UIAGM guide education) at Nortind. I thought it was ‘now or never,’ so I took that severance package.” The children were one-and-three-years-old when Merrick started training as both a climbing and skiing guide – the first mother ever to do so.
where she got a job as a project manager for a waste handling company. Three years later, she resumed her Nortind training, this time to become a ski guide. Things had changed. “I was back in a steady job, so guiding was not something I had to do for the money. I had more self-confidence and quickly built good relationships. I understood that a good network is essential to success in the guide industry.” Cooperation. Until she was in her teens, Merrick struggled to even pronounce her own name on demand. While she excelled in math and physics during her studies, she had trouble communicating. When she wanted to start her own company in 2020, she wanted to do it with someone. Someone with complimenting qualities. Lena Dahl is a peak guide (UIAGM), mother of two and on her way with a doctorate in outdoor life and safety: a skilled and structured woman who is a master of organization.
“I was nervous about starting the UIAGM training. There were no female instructors. I was the only woman – and the only one who wasn’t Norwegian.”
“Perfect,” Merrick thought when Lena initiated a collaboration.
It was a comedown. Merrick felt that the learning environment wasn’t good. She was frustrated and quit. Together with her family, she moved to Tromsø,
The two women quickly became close friends, as did their families. Lena, her husband Øystein, Merrick, Anders, and the four children together, soon functioned as one
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“I get a lot of energy from looking at the same mountain, but trying to find new lines,” says Norrøna-ambassador Merrick Mordal.
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large family. The adults took turns going on trips with the children and driving to various practices. They had their own chat room where they coordinated weekend plans, joint dinners, childcare and work logistics. As a result, the grownups had more badly needed time to climb ice waterfalls, ski steep mountains and bike new trails.
powder in the woods, snowboarding is the best choice. On large, open flanks, the Telemark ski wins.
The mountain calls. Merrick says that it is out on a trek that she finds peace. Out there she has to be so focused that it creates an inner calm. She has never been diagnosed with ADHD, but says that both brothers have it, and that they are considerably calmer than her. The mountain, at any rate, is her cure for inner turmoil.
“You don’t have to go to the Lyngen Alps for ski and sail treks to have good skiing experiences. There are lots of untouched mountains in all directions just outside Tromsø. Which means you can pick up the children at kindergarten in the afternoon.”
“I try to have as nice a day as possible based on the existing conditions. I enjoy finding the safest way to move in complex terrain.” If it’s hard and icy, it can mean an alpine trip with crampons and ice ax. If the snow conditions are bad, you can climb. If the powder is stable, do a big mountain run. And a ski is not just a ski. “It’s cool to go guiding on the same type of ski as the guests have, because then you speak the same language.” On steep runs, it is best to use ski touring skis. In deep
Family-friendly operation. Merrick is committed to building a strong female-run business. The goal is creating a workplace that is at one with family life.
Since becoming a mother, the kids have become her main focus. But Merrick is very conscious of not abandoning the things that make her happy. “When you’re happy, you have more energy for good parenting. I think most people have a playfulness inside them – but in adults that quality is not nurtured by our society.” When it comes to her own children, she makes sure not to force her own attitude on them. They must be allowed to develop at their own pace. Even though her own mother took a tougher approach, Merrick is very grateful for having grown up in Alaska.
Left: “I enjoy finding the safest way to move in complex terrain,” says Merrick Mordal.
Above: “I think most people have a playfulness inside them – but in adults that quality is not nurtured by our society,” says Merrick Mordal.
“My mother did so much for me and the children in the neighborhood. Instead of complaining about shortcomings in the community, she became a cross-country ski coach and coordinated equipment so anyone could join. She was the one who taught most of the kids in the neighborhood to ski. She spent a lot of time with other people’s kids. She is a great role model on that front.” Change of direction. One Saturday in January 2021, everything was turned upside down. Øystein, business partner Lena’s man, never came home from a ski trip. The extended family lost one of its mainstays. Øystein died in an avalanche on Kattfjordeidet outside Tromsø. He was just out for a little evening ski tour with a headlamp, as usual. Merrick and Anders helped look for him. They realized right away when they got to the place that it was all over. No one could survive that inferno of an avalanche. “It was a powerful experience. I saw a lot of myself in Øystein. He was like a reindeer calf. Eager and happy
“When you’re happy, you have more energy for good parenting.”
when he was out in the mountains. He was the youngest 52-year-old I have ever met.” The friend’s death has made Merrick reflect more on the way she has lived her life. She says it was pure luck that she survived her 20s. “I will always come home to my children – and I will always go out to the mountains.”
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Deep Capturing
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A World of Skiers
Text: Eivind Eidslott Photo: Kari Medig
– The common language of skiing somehow unites us all, says Canadian photographer Kari Medig. Now, he is publishing a book about all the skiers he has met at exotic ski destinations around the globe. Tell us about your great book project, Kari! For Snow is a project that explores ski cultures around the world: the plurality of people and places connected by the simple act of gliding on snow. The images aim to offer a visual narrative about our varied relationships to skiing, from joy to romanticism to survival. The last 14 years I’ve tried to document diverse ski communities. I’ve managed to get hundreds of images, from all seven continents. When did you start? I was doing my first assignment for the Canadian magazine called Skier at the ski resort in Gulmarg, India in 2007. The Indian government had just put in a high lift in an effort to normalize tourism in the conflicted region (the top of the ski hill is on the “line of control,” the disputed border between India and Pakistan). I was with a group of athletes; we were spending time in the alpine, shooting the necessary powder shots. But the lift was extremely unreliable: one day it just stopped. This left me with time to wander the base of the mountain. There, I noticed local skiers. Until then, the ski stories I had shot were fairly similar. Skiing is essentially a sport that happens on a 30° to 40° snowy slope – in almost any wintery mountain climate. I realized that what distinguishes one ski culture from the next is its people. This is what I became drawn to on that first trip. This kept me interested ever since. What is your approach to skiers around the world? My happy place is definitely wandering around ski hills looking for distinguishing details or interesting characters. When taking portraits, I consider people to be fellow skiers – both of us sharing enthusiasm for a sport, whether we’re seasoned or new to it. Skiing is generally a very
elitist sport. One of the things I’ve loved about working on this project is being able to dismiss the stereotype that only one kind of demographic likes to ski. Tell us about your camera equipment. I use an old Hasselblad film camera for the vast majority of the project and mostly use Kodak Portra film in it. The combination gives a certain look that I love, a feeling of timelessness. How many ski countries have you visited until now? Give us the whole list! Afghanistan, Antarctica, Argentina, Bulgaria, Canada (multiple), Chile, China, Dubai, France, Georgia, Hungary, India, Israel, Japan, Kosovo, Morocco, Norway, Russia, Spain, Switzerland, Turkey, USA (Alaska). Some key places I’d like to go before the book is published: Iran, North Korea, Albania, Bosnia, South Africa, Lesotho and England. Can we say that your book is one big humanistic project? The human element is extremely important to this project. Actually it’s everything! I’ve noticed in my travels that people have infused so much of their individuality and self-expression into the sport of skiing, as well as elements from their culture as a whole. I like to look at it as if the culture and setting of each of the places I visit is different but the common language of skiing somehow unites us all. When and where can we buy your book? Right now it’s in the early stages of development, there is still some shooting to do. Unfortunately all of the travel restrictions of the last year have made shooting farther afield pretty challenging. But if all goes according to plan, it will be published in the fall of 2022. Any advice to others who would like to visit exotic ski destinations around the world? Don’t just focus on the quality of the snow or the lengths of runs. Instead, take a moment to pause and appreciate the locals who share the same love of gliding on snow. To me, this is what makes a trip special. Oukaimeden, Morocco, Feb 2014. A local Berber skier in Oukaimeden carries rental skis from his home closer to the lift to rent to tourists. The vast majority of the skis for hire at Oukaimeden are throwbacks from bygone ski eras in North America and Europe.
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March 2014. A guide from a ski rental shop/cafe in Merzouga, Morocco takes guest sand skiing on the dunes outside of town.
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Eric Ylioja (19), feed lot worker from Outlook SK in the parking lot of the Table Mountain Regional Park ski area in Canada. When asked about what he likes about skiing, “I don’t know … just going fast and hitting jumps.” and on skiing in the prairies, “it’s somwhere to ski you don’t have to go too far.”
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A ski guide at Okaimeden ski hill in Morocco’s Atlas Mountains poses for the camera.
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A skier at Kicking Horse Mountain Resort in Canada enjoys the last day of the season.
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March 2012. A young skier from Sissu village in the Lahaul Valley in Himachal Pradesh province, India poses with his family’s livestock.
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Shor skier Vitaly Kiskorov poses with his dogs and homemade skis in his village in Shorsky National Park, Russia.
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A young couple from Amritsar try skiing for the first time in Gulmarg, Kashmir, India.
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A couple at the Salmo hill near Salmo, BC, Canada.
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A skier from Venezuela hiking to go skiing from the Fitzroy basecamp, Parque Nacional Los Glaciares, Argentina.
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A man holds a bear pelt he just purchased at the base of Sheregesh ski area, Siberia, Russia.
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Deep Dialogue
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The Snow Philosopher
Many cups of coffee and discussions have passed since they agreed that the conditions were too dangerous. Now it’s quiet on board. Just the sound of gray sea caressing the blue hull. Just the hum of bone chilling wind in the mast and steel wires. And the mountains, of course. Mountains rising from seaweed and kelp, stretching their fingers up toward the cloud cover. Nikolai is a skier, lawyer, Norrøna ambassador and perhaps the closest you get to a combination of steep skiing and an honest attempt at philanthropy. Nikolai has embraced YouTube and SoMe with a giant bear hug. If social media were an organ that could sound terrible or beautiful, Nikolai has nonchalantly managed to hit all the right notes. That results in many views online. At first glance, seen through the modest size of a mobile phone screen, Nikolai seems like a nimble, short and happy-go-lucky type who has adapted American ski film jargon, added an English filter set to the Tromsø dialect accent of awesomeness, and who leads a carefree life. On closer inspection, it’s clear that the first impression is about as straightforward as a twisted Norwegian mountain birch.
Text: Alexander Urrang Hauge Photo: Bård Basberg, Kristin Folsland Olsen, Peter Wojnar, Ståle Johan Aklestad, Anders Møller Vestergård and Krister Kopala
“I need fresh snow to do world-class skiing. But that is also the snow that can take my life” says Nikolai Schirmer, one of Norway’s biggest ski profiles. On board a sailboat, in Øksfjord, in no man’s land, in Northern Norway. “All these places we travel to and the mountains I ski down are demanding. They require an uncompromising dedication to reach. It’s all about the group, the camera crew, weather, snow, light and safety. You can do absolutely everything right, but end up turning around because it isn’t doable. Then you have used insane amounts of energy on nothing,” says Nikolai Schirmer. He is sitting on the green leather seats of the cabin, on board the sailboat S/Y Sofie. He and the rest of the crew have sought refuge in the small bay of Øksfjord, in the high north of Norway.
First, Nikolai is 187 centimeters tall in his ski socks. Secondly, there is something liberating and recognizable in the small dialogues that unfold within the group, which saunters along at a leisurely pace in powerful and quiet scenery. And thirdly, Nikolai’s trips look undeniably ordinary, at least at first. There isn’t always clear sky. There is scrub forest, flat light and bad hat hairdos. Nikolai’s voice and comments blow away any doubt that this is a group that cares about each other. No roar from snowmobiles raging through forests and heaths, nor any inexhaustible helicopter budget allowing shuttle traffic between mountains that barely have a name. Nikolai’s ski trips are demanding and yet undeniably Norwegian. Starting in twilight, they push through birch forests on bare ground. There is a fresh breeze and between breathing, panting, high knee lifts and quick comments, it’s easy to sense the doubt and nervousness. Mom drew the winning ticket. A key question for wild men on skis like Nikolai is about their childhood. How did experiences in his youth lead him toward a life with 60,000 people almost slavishly following his ski trips? Why did Nikolai turn out this way?
“Mom and Dad were not big skiers. They went crosscountry skiing and nordic mountain skiing. But one day my mother won some season tickets to the football team Tromsø’s matches in a lottery. So they sold the season tickets and bought us downhill skis. I think that must be when it started,” says Nikolai thoughtfully. Like so many others in social democratic Norway, Nikolai tried a whole range of sports while growing up. “Of course I tried football, but it has never turned me on. I never enjoyed organized sports. I’m not a person who fits in there. I’m not competitive. I have never had the feeling that competitions matter. I hated more or less goalless nordic mountain skiing with the family. I never understood the aesthetics of beautiful, big mountains in my teens. Does anyone?” he asks. But Nikolai quickly realized that skiing and surfing stirred something in him: “I only focused on following the feelings I got from skiing. Surf that wave, set that turn, jump down that cliff. It was that simple. Not to do it, but to feel it. For me, skiing became a kind of strong obsession and a love affair. I dreamed of skiing when I slept. I thought about skiing all the time while I was awake. I remember talking with a high school teacher about my goals and ambitions for further education. I thought that grades weren’t important: I was going to ski and surf. So who needs good grades?” Nikolai was a quick study as a student, and finished secondary school with skiing in his legs and a solid diploma in his back pocket. “Ski culture consumed me. Together with a friend of mine, Vegard Rye, we tracked down all of the ski movies. For me, skiing meant jumps, drops, spins, tricks and turns. Skiing took over. I hadn’t discovered or even heard about the pinnacle of skiing: Big mountain skiing,” he says. Nikolai skied on a pair of Rossignol Sketch – not the expensive one, but the cheap one – and had barely given summit hikes a passing thought. Community involvement. “I went to Haiti as a volunteer for an aid organization,” he says. The year was 2010 and Haiti was on its knees after an earthquake. The poor country was shaken by the natural disaster. The international community was trying to assist, and in the ranks of aid workers was Nikolai. “I dug gravel and stone, and did practical tasks together with many rich Americans. They were so-called ‘undergraduates’ and were to begin law school. Later, I thought that the locals both could have done and should
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Nikolai Schirmer’s version of taking a small trip in the woods.
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have had the jobs we did. But that was probably where my community involvement was awakened. Since then, it has never been linked to politics and activism,” he recalls.
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Above: “For me, skiing became a kind of strong obsession and a love affair,” says Nikolai Schirmer.
Right: “I have ambitions – things I want to achieve on skis,” says Nikolai Schirmer.
“I spent five winters in Chamonix. In that short time, glaciers melted and some crept back 100 meters.”
Nikolai was also inspired to take a closer look at the legal profession, and chose that path. – Why did your community involvement continue? “Just look at the world and the society around you, and you find community involvement. The first thing you see is that some are better off and some are worse off. Where are you on this scale, and why is that so?”.
Nikolai chooses nearby ski trips. The least fossil fuel possible. The fewest flights possible. Sure, he wants to leave lasting ski tracks, but the carbon footprint must be minimal. Climate commitment covers Nikolai’s YouTube videos like a sprinkling of snow.
“Climate problems and global warming can seem overwhelming. Each of us needs to address the issues around us and do something about them. Whether you dig ditches, run a shop, work in a hospital or teach. Regardless, you are part of a society and you can influence your surroundings,” says Nikolai.
“We must not believe anything other than that skiing is self-realization and I am an advertising poster for it. But I can fill that poster with whatever I want,” he says.
“I just read a piece written by Czech dissident Václav Havel. He says that everything you do matters and that some people think they can live without being part of a larger whole. But that doesn’t work. If everyone had eternal life, we would all have to endlessly live with the results of all our actions. I think it’s a nice thought, even with the godless life that I have.”
– Are you worried about climate change? “Of course I’m worried, and climate depression is understandable. But I also think that it will turn out okay anyway, even if our planet is harder hit by climate change. The world isn’t ending. Civilization will obviously survive, but it will also obviously be less fun. A worst-case scenario is that gross national product falls to the same level as in the ’60s and ’70s. Is it a crisis? People lived well back then as well.”
Nikolai has seen global warming with his own eyes. “I spent five winters in Chamonix. In that short time, glaciers melted and some crept back 100 meters.” Nikolai mentions Yuval Noah Harari (who wrote the book Sapiens), the French economist Thomas Piketty (who wrote the tome Capital in the 21st Century”), various short story writers and, not in the least, Norwegian author Karl Ove Knausgård. Now Nikolai is reading Knausgård’s The Morning Star, even though the skier had given up entirely on fiction. “I saw fiction as just fabrication. Something meaningless and distant that had never happened and that an author had invented,” he says. But then Nikolai began to read Knausgård’s masterpiece, My Struggle.“He writes so well and close to a reality, but it is still literature. I like it when books bring things we know out of the shadows. Knausgård does. So now I read both non-fiction and fiction,” says Nikolai.
The avalanche. On a cold winter day, November 23, 2020, Nikolai and his friend chose to return to old haunts. They headed up the mountain that had been one of their first summit hikes, as 13-year-olds with Nikolai’s father. They had skis on their backpacks, and their eyes were behind goggles. The father was behind them, with the latest yellow, Salomon X-scream on his backpack. Back in the present, Nikolai, in a narrator’s voice, recounts setting off downhill. Fresh snow, temperature changes – their guard was down. Nikolai falls and loses a ski. And then the avalanche hits. Chaos in white. Nikolai gasps, breathes, rolls and is knocked down before the avalanche finally stops and he can stagger back onto his feet. Nikolai lost two things that day: His innocence about avalanches and his left ski. At home, his girlfriend and pop artist Sigrid had no idea what happened. Maybe her text line “You’re safe as a mountain, but know that I’m dynamite!” could be seen as an avalanche warning? – What did you say to your girlfriend when you got home that night? “I told her I loved her.”
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Norrøna’s ski ambassador Nikolai Schirmer making his own way down to the fjord in Møre and Romsdal county, Western Norway.
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“If I only skied for fun, I could do it in nice easy terrain.”
Right: “Skiing down big mountains is risky to start with,” says Nikolai Schirmer.
– Did the avalanche change you? “Yes, I hope I have become even more careful. It’s hard to say. The most careful thing would be to stop skiing, but I’m not that careful. I talked to our photographer, Jonas. We agreed that we have been more conservative and cautious this year than we were in the past.”
it looks like a backdrop that Game Of Thrones could never afford. Other times it looks like the beginning of a new Nordic noir TV series that plays on Scandinavian melancholy and fear of heights.
– Isn’t deciding to turn back a very grown up thing to do? Does sensibly turning back or skiing an easier side of the mountain conflict with the craziness of the challenge? “Yes, absolutely. Also, it’s part of a job. I have to deliver a product. I am the producer and director of a film. I see the contours of the story I want to tell and what elements I need for it to be a film that people want to see. “You have a completely different relationship to a project than to a ski tour for your own pleasure. If I only skied for fun, I could do it in nice easy terrain. But I have something I want to create,” says Nikolai, and takes a breath. “I have ambitions – things I want to achieve on skis. That is the most dangerous element in this type of skiing. Then you suddenly have a lot more to gain from taking that risk. Avalanche assessment and skiing are complex.” Nikolai’s playpen – sharp mountains and peaks, ridges with flanks and mountainsides that plunge into the fjord and abyss – is as close to paradise as you can get. Admittedly, without Adam and Eve and with gravity always having a royal flush up its sleeve if you set a ski wrong. But there is something biblical, treacherous and devilishly annoying about that snake in the snow paradise called The Avalanche. A factor that is so easy to suppress but which the human mind cannot safely overlook. “Avalanches are difficult, really difficult. I didn’t think of avalanches as a factor when I started skiing. I never thought that avalanches were something I had to deal with. As you begin to ski big mountains, avalanches become a very dominant factor and a disturbing element. Skiing down big mountains is risky to start with. You can fall off a cliff or hit a rock. On top of that, there is the X-factor that can kill you. It’s tricky,” says Nikolai. Both in Øksfjord and in Nikolai’s films, the dramaturgy alternates between a carefree summit trek with men and women who enjoy untamed nature and brutal alpine terrain with black mountains and blue ice. Sometimes
Nikolai is both the protagonist and the extra on this colossal stage. A nature that can – and will – kill you if you make a mistake. “Like the ski day in Øksfjord. We expended a lot of energy, time and resources on planning. You spend your whole life involved in skiing. It takes an enormous amount of effort and motivation to get in position to do the skiing I do. At the same time, you have to be ready to turn back every second. It’s a hefty balancing act. Skiing must mean a lot to you to reach that point at all. Still, it must not mean so much that you don’t pay enough attention to the avalanche danger,” Nikolai explains. You know you have to stop. You can go no further. You can’t ski here. You want to, but the mountain says ‘no’. “Skiing must mean everything to you, at the same time as you must be willing to let go,” he says. Nikolai and his group are still riding at anchor aboard S/Y Sofie in Øksfjord. They had chosen a mountain. They drink coffee, discuss, look more, think more. Can it work? Yes, it can work. “It was like looking straight up at a candy store. The first day we had nice, stable snow and only used an hour from the boat. We do some shovel tests of the snow along the way. Some looked good, some look a little less good, but we think it’s safe enough to ski. The line I am going to run follows a spine – that is, a small ridge – down. If something goes wrong, I’m all the way on top of it and the snow might disappear down the sides of the ridge below me,” he says. Nikolai manages two turns before the whole side loosens and the avalanche starts. “This is a classic example, because then the whole day has gone by. We can do nothing more. The contrast between having the dream, which means so much, so within reach – only to discover that it is a potentially fatal accident – is sometimes brutal. We knew about the danger. I had a plan in case it came loose, and I wore an avalanche
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Left: “I just want to make good entertainment. The goal is for those who watch to take part in what we experience,” says Norrøna-ambassador Nikolai Schirmer.
bag. I had many margins on my side, but it wasn’t doable. I need fresh snow to do world-class skiing. But that is also the snow that can take my life,” says Nikolai. – What feeling do you get when you choose to turn around and have to cancel a descent that has cost you a lot of effort? “I get a kind of empty feeling. It’s sunny and nice in the mountains, and I’m fine. Nevertheless, you had put in a lot of effort without getting the payoff,” he says. – Do you sometimes know about the dangers and think: “Screw it, just do it”? “I think about it a bit every time I set off down a mountainside. You are never completely sure. There is always an element of ‘screw it’. If someone says there isn’t, they’re lying. There is no one in the world who is that good at predicting avalanches. There is a reason why Nortind (the Norwegian organization for UIAGMA-certified mountain guides) demands that their guides use an avalanche bag. You never quite know how safe you are from avalanches.” – What do you think when you stretch things too far? “I get a very bad conscience. You get a bad conscience about those you love and those who love you. You can disappear. You can die. You can’t justify the extra risk. It’s not worth it. That’s why I have such a bad conscience when it almost goes wrong.” Steep skiing and steep learning curve. Back in the cabin aboard the sailboat S/Y Sofie, the weather forecast looks better and the mood is rising. But where is Nikolai heading? And will it make him a better skier? “I feel I want be a better skier, but the skiing I do also requires that I manage to get to the places where I will actually ski. But my God, I feel like I’m better at skiing than before.” For the most part, Nikolai spends several months in the Alps or in the United States, where he has logged tens of thousands of altitude meters. “This year I notice there has been less skiing because I have been in Norway. There’s a down side to Norway: We have so many mountains, but are so bad at making ski areas.”
Behind all the joviality, the nice drone pictures, the documentary GoPro clips and Norwegian landscapes that whiz by, it is actually easy to forget what is at the core: Risky skiing in which Nikolai usually only has one shot. – When you climb a steep mountainside, click on the bindings and set off, what do you think? How do you mobilize? “There’s a lot of pressure. This is when it counts. I’ve been through that process many times, but you really have to want it. Before this trip I had been ill for three weeks: Influenza, back and body pain after crashing a bit. When you want to ski fast down steep mountain slopes and drop off high cliffs, you need the right level of tension in your body. You have to feel like it. If you don’t have the inner motivation, it won’t happen.” – Are these descents like tiny trophies you put in your pocket and can then take them out again for a look? “Yes. By all means. When the descents are also filmed, I get the pleasure of processing the skiing in several steps. I get to share my experience.” – What do you really want to share? “I just want to make good entertainment. The goal is for those who watch to take part in what we experience. An attempt to take the audience on our little adventures.” – And then the famous question: Do you feel that you are a role model? “I feel a responsibility. I see that people consider me a role model and find inspiration in what I do. Then my own definition has nothing to do with it. The starting point is that we document what I do in the mountains, not that it should necessarily be copied. I’m aware of that. That’s how it is in life. I want to act responsibly.” – Many people probably associate typical ski films with epic conditions where the sun always shines and the snow is always deep. In your episodes, there can be rocks under the snow, cloudy, flat light and a lot of chaos? “Yes, it’s more documentary. Also, it is extra difficult to find the epic conditions. If skiing always has to be at a world-class level, it’s even worse. Especially in Norway, where we have barely a third of the snow they have in Canada, for example. So the challenge, and our goal, is to show good experiences and good skiing without bottomless powder, but under realistic circumstances, in terrain that is accessible.
Deep Knowledge 60 61
Deep Knowledge The Search for the Perfect Ski Wear
When you buy Norrøna gear, you get a small piece of Norwegian design that works in all kinds of weather. Norrøna’s Head of RD&D Fredrik Lundberg explains how it works.
Text: Alexander Urrang Hauge Photo: Chris Holter
Imagine wearing your ski jacket on the first day of the season. It’s freezing cold, but not so cold that the snow isn’t wet. You pull up the zipper and start skiing. You start heating up and sweat a little. You take off a layer and press on. The terrain is steep, the snow is deep, you cross the tree line and it starts to blow. The temperature sinks, the snow gets drier and the wind stronger. “Norrøna’s clothes reflect nature and passion,” says Fredrik Lundberg, Head of Research, Design and Development (RD&D) for Norrøna. “In many ways, our clothes are similar to Nordic nature; they can’t be too mechanical and clinical. We don’t make clothes for robots, but for real people looking for real experiences.” One day you stand on a mountain and enjoy the warm feeling inside a good hood, as the snow drifts and clouds float by. Another time you lie on your back in the heather and watch winter turn into spring. The third time, you hustle through the streets in rain and wind, with your ski jacket on. Your favorite jacket. Whether you swear by the Norrøna lofoten, tamok or lyngen collection, all have a common denominator: well-thought-out, tried and tested. “Our customers come from all over the world, but if there is one thing that characterizes them it’s that they expect the Norrøna garment they bought to work really well,” says Fredrik.
Left: Fredrik Lundberg is the Head of Research, Design and Development (RD&D) at Norrøna. He is also an enthusiastic skier. As here, in the hills just behind Oslo.
Fredrik is Swedish, has a beard almost as long as Gandalf’s, and climbed 100,000 vertical meters while ski touring last year. He also has a finger in the entire value chain; from someone whispering the words “new ski jacket” to it hanging in your local – or online – clothing store. “For us who develop ski clothing for Norrøna, it is always about making everything a little better for the next collection. Sometimes the adjustments are small, other times they are large. The ski jackets we make today are better than the ones we made ten years ago. It is in the nature of evolution. We seek progress,” he says. Norrøna works continuously on its ski wear. No matter how good a ski jacket is, there’s always something to work on. Norrøna ambassadors also play an important role in this. “We use the ambassadors in different phases of production. They offer input when a new collection is on the drawing board, through testing of prototypes and, not least, in the final phase, before the finished product is tested in production. Fredrik says the design team at Norrøna is constantly looking for small improvements. Sometimes they come from the ambassadors, but they can also come from other staff. Two people must test all Norrøna products for at least 300 hours each. That is 600 hours. If the product passes the test, it can be put into production. “When we test our products so thoroughly, we gain complete confidence that the skiers out there get something that really works,” he says.
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Deep Living
Home to Lofoten
Text: Kristin Folsland Olsen Photo: Kristin Folsland Olsen, Fredrikke Jerringen, Sverre Hjørnevik and James Cripps/Northern Explorer
Norrøna’s iconic ski collection is, of course, called lofoten – named after one of the most spectacular ski regions in the world. We meet skiers who decided to live there.
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Why did Lofoten life become more permanent? We knew we would end up in Lofoten. This is where we want to live. But ending up here now was by chance. I finished my bachelor’s degree in Sogndal and had no plans for the autumn, other than to start on a master’s degree. We lost some bidding rounds on houses in Tromsø and Bodø. And then, because of the Corona situation, the master’s studies went online, so I could live anywhere. That’s when we bought a house here, in the summer of 2020. Homeowner at the age of 23. Impressive! Well, not really. Many students buy apartments where they study. Here, we could buy a house instead. Tell us about your outdoor life in Lofoten I can’t have a life that doesn’t combine daily life with life on steep inclines. Despite being a bit of an adventurer, I’m addicted to routines. Skiing and climbing must be part of that routine every day. Being able to work until noon, and then ski a bit in the sun before I go home to dinner – that’s something I really appreciate. Many ask why I don’t work as a guide, but I have a real hunger for academic input. I need a job where I can use my head on theoretical challenges. Then, I like to be able to wear myself out on whatever I feel like wearing myself out on that day. And then go home and read a book and think – yes, just study.
Martine Limstrand (23) From: I’ve lived on Svalbard, went to school in Tromsø, England, Lillehammer and one year of home schooling on a sailboat. But I feel maybe I’m mostly from Bodø. I lived there for nine years. Lives in: Henningsvær Profession: Master’s Degree’s student in sociology and Norwegian teacher at Aust-Lofoten secondary school Moved to Lofoten: 2016 Favourite activities: Climbing, skiing, mountain biking, trail running and surfing
What brought you to Lofoten? The autumn after I finished secondary school, I started at a folk high school in Ålesund, but that didn’t work out. I’d done a lot of hiking earlier, and decided it was a better idea to spend a year hiking and climbing in Lofoten without specific plans. So you copied your parents a bit – who did exactly the same thing that fall? Yes, they moved here to live on a sailboat, and work half time so they could climb and ski. They quickly decided that they weren’t going to return to Bodø. They got permanent jobs and built a house. Now they have settled here for good. But at that time I lived on my own in a studio apartment in Svolvær. What was the next step? In the years that followed, I worked here every summer while studying in Tromsø and Sogndal. Two summers I worked at a fish farm where you had one week on and one week off. It was perfect. I worked full time but could climb half the summer anyway.
What else can you highlight about Lofoten as a place to live? I love that it is compact and that everything is so close. I love that everyone knows everyone. No matter what people do, they are really involved. It doesn’t really matter what you do. I love that vibe. Regardless of whether you are the best or not, you’re allowed to be yourself. What do you think of skiing opportunities in Lofoten? I love that they are so close. The first winter I stayed here, I had ski-in, ski-out from the studio at Stranda in Svolvær. I worked at a restaurant in the evening and could have a full ski day and a full working day at the same time. There is a lot of steep and cool skiing here. I love that. There are so many lines to choose from. You can go up where everyone else goes up, but don’t have to ski down what everyone else skis down. And the season is quite long. But Lofoten over Tromsø for a reason: In Lofoten, you can ski until you can start climbing. And you can really switch between those seasons a bit. You get a month where you can choose. So you have a two month longer climbing season here than in Tromsø, and a slightly shorter ski season. What is special about skiing in Lofoten? What I really, really missed when I was in Sogndal, was the sea. I lived over a year of my life on board a sailboat, so I have a strong connection to the ocean. So that combination
“I love that Lofoten is compact and that everything is so close,” says Martine Limstrand.
of mountains and sea here is so nice. There are beautiful views wherever you go. You climb quickly to a vantage point. You don’t slog along for hours in the forest to reach the view. Nature is in a way intense and majestic at the same time. What other activities do you enjoy? I try to do everything but have realized that I don’t have time for it all. Ha ha! I have a full suspension downhill bike that is way too expensive for the use it gets. And then I think running and surfing are cool. But climbing and skiing are the top priorities. Is there anything you miss about big city life? I miss the student environment. Others who are in my situation. Someone to study and discuss subjects with. But now the universities aren’t open anyway, because of Corona, so I would miss the same things in the city anyway. Otherwise I miss a really good climbing centre. But we’re working on that! Do you have any last words of wisdom for those who dream of a life among mountains and sea? Living in Lofoten is perfect if you want to go skiing, climbing, cycling and surfing in your daily life. You can do all that here and not just be a ‘weekend hero’. And it’s a place where it’s easy to get by on a part time job.
Norrøna Magazine The Deep Issue
The Lofoten Islands in Northern Norway is like Disneyland for skiers and snowboarders. There are endless opportunities and magic views. No wonder some people settle down here for good – to live closer to this special playground.
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What has living here as a family been like? Espen: Growing up here lets the kids enjoy such basic activities as skiing, hiking, driving a boat, mooring, free diving, climbing and so on. We have tried to include them – and even force them a bit – to try all the things we see as fun. Did it take a lot of force? Mathilde: There was pressure at times, but now I love hiking. As long as we don’t start too early, I’ll go along. I’m not an early bird. How do you feel about summit hikes? Mathias: I think they’re nice. Sometimes. But I need some encouragement from the others. Mathilde: Hiking up is fun if we have friends to talk to along the way. Mathias: Friends our own age. Mathilde: Sure, you talk to family, but that’s just not the same. Mathias: Yeah, what did you do at school today? You hear questions like that all the time, and that’s not exactly what you want to talk about … What’s it like to reach the summit? Mathilde: Better and better the higher you get. You get a good feeling at the top and a great view. You can see a lot. You see most of the other peaks around you and look down on several sides. It’s cool. Mathias: The view is the best!
Espen (46), Mathilde (16), Cathrine (48) and Mathias Mortensen (12) From: Cathrine, Harstad. Espen, Bodø. Residence: Home outside Kabelvåg. Occupation: The kids are schoolchildren, Cathrine and Espen run a dental clinic. Moved to Lofoten: 2002 Favourite activities: Skiing, skating, swimming, climbing, windsurfing and trampoline
What is the best thing about living in Lofoten? Cathrine: One of the best things about living here is being able to ski tour and cross-country, on your own two feet from your front door. It makes for day-to-day happiness. Mathilde: It’s about all the things we can do outdoors. We can start off by hiking, then play football, do gymnastics, jump on a trampoline, surf, swim in the sea or go out with the boat. There are many opportunities. Mathias: Plus it’s so pretty here. Your house has a beautiful location by the sea. Is the sea important to you? Cathrine: It’s true luxury, put simply. The kids have grown up swimming and fishing for crabs from the pier here. When we bought the house, someone said that it was too dangerous for kids to live so close to the sea. But in the hundreds of years people have grown up by the water, it usually turns out okay. Sure, there was the 17th of May Constitution Day when one of the neighbour’s kids fell into the water in her heavy Bunad (Norwegian folk costume). Water was gushing out of her clothes when her father came up with her in his arms. Heh-heh!
What is the alpine touring life with children? Espen: Skiing with kids is all about … Mathias: … candy! Espen: … it’s about motivation and being patient. We’ve spent a lot of hours at the bottom of a ski lift in Svolvær, loading up kids while watching people without children doing run after run in bottomless powder. You have to make the effort. It’s hard work, but it’s worth it. Now I’m not afraid to take them off-piste, do jumps or summit hikes. Cathrine: Who do you think they have to wait for now? Mathias: Mom! Is there a downside to life in Lofoten? Mathilde: There are cool people here, but the older you get, the smaller it feels. There aren’t many music lovers my age. I travel to Leknes and practice with them. Some people I play with live in Bodø, which has a fantastic music scene! Espen: Mathilde sees herself as a 20-year-old who lives in a studio in Bodø and is in charge of her own life. In her mind, she is not 16, living at home and in tenth grade. Mathilde: And public transit here is terrible. The bus runs three times a day – more or less.
“You move here because it is beautiful and because there are a lot of good people here,” says Espen Mortensen.
Mathias: I miss the skatepark. I love kick scooters. Espen: There is a lack of higher education here. Young people between 20 and 30 wanting higher education leave Lofoten. It should be possible to work together with a university. How did you end up in Lofoten? Espen: We met in 1994 on the Jersey Channel Islands during STS language travel. Then we ended up in the same class at dentistry school in Bergen in 1997. After that, we thought we’d end up in Stryn or Tromsø. Our first job was in Voss, but then two jobs openings in dentistry turned up in Lofoten. It was the last spring of our studies, we went up and got to spend one trial day each, followed by the weekend off. There was glorious sun and 30 cm of powder. Then we decided to try Lofoten for a couple of years. That was almost 20 years ago. You are still here. Why? Espen: You move here because it is beautiful and stay because there are a lot of good people here. There is good energy in the circles here. For such a small place, there are rich cultural offerings, and opportunities for all kinds of activities – both organized and on your own. Expand on life in ‘paradise’. Espen: You can be at work and it snows. You send a text and eight people with headlamps show up in the parking lot. That’s the mentality. There is also a great spirit of volunteer work here. People give a lot to the community. They act as night watchmen for the snow cannons on the slalom slope, even if they have to go to work the next day. They stand out in the pouring rain and lay out slalom runs that blow away in a storm. Places like this are where you get to know some really good people.
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After-ski the Lofoten way: a cold swim, surfing the waves, kayaking and fishing.
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And you stayed? The schools closed on March 12, 2020 due to the Corona situation. We didn’t want to go home, so we rented a fisherman’s cabin and lived in an overcrowded collective and skied and enjoyed ourselves. When I was in the fisherman’s cabin, I applied to become a second year student at the folk high school. What does a second year student do? We welcome new students and make sure their school year is just as cool as ours was. It also involves social work, and helping out those who feel left out. Plus, I produce films and pictures for the school. Tell us about your film background? It started with a GoPro, a trampoline and bad skiing when I was 9-10-years-old. Eventually came ski films that were a little more ambitious. Gradually I got small assignments, and then I was hired as an editor for a production company in Stavanger the summer after I hurt my knee. What is so good about living in Lofoten? Everything is so close. In Stavanger, it was a real pain to get to the mountains. Here you can start from school with skis on your feet and trudge straight up on Varden – which is one of the better ski mountains in the area. How would you describe skiing opportunities in Lofoten? There is skiing in every direction. Everything you need is accessible from the road. You can drive along and look at lines. Then just stop the car and start walking. The road is by the sea, so you hear the waves crashing as you get out of the car, which is also special.
Vetle Sevild (21) From: Stavanger Lives in: Kabelvåg Occupation: Student at Lofoten Folk High School Moved to Lofoten: 2019 Favorite activities: Skiing, climbing and surfing
How did you end up in Lofoten? I actually planned to become a ski instructor and spend a ski season in Canada. But then I tore a ligament while skiing in the Alps the year after secondary school. Then I thought “Yikes! What now?” Then I got the idea of getting rehab at the folk high school in Lofoten.
How does it feel to stand on top of a mountain in Lofoten? Lofoten is a small place, but when you’re on top of a mountain here, everything feels much bigger. There is only ocean to the north and south west. There aren’t many other mountains around you, so almost no matter what mountain you pick, it feels like you are on top of the world. It’s cool that such wild landscapes are so easily accessible. What is social life like in Lofoten? Being able to live in a place with such wonderful mountains, and such great people in such a nice place is unique. An expression up here says: “You come for the mountains and stay for the people.” Are there any downsides to living here? No. Not that I’ve found. Is there nothing you miss? Many might say a larger downtown. But I think Svolvær has a great town centre. It’s more than good enough.
Behind the Seams
Norrøna lofoten
Jørgen Jørgensen – owner and CEO at Norrøna – tells the story behind Norrøna’s most famous collection.
Text: Eivind Eidslott Photo: Frode Sandbech
“When we launched the lofoten collection in 2004, we saw that it inspired a lot of people. The lofoten jacket eventually became the uniform for top freeriders in a lot of countries,” says Jørgen Jørgensen. What distinguished the lofoten products from other ski collections? We took the freeriders seriously when we worked on this collection. We didn’t think about selling thousands of garments before we started product development, but rather thought we should try to make niche products of the highest quality. I think we got a lot of cred for that attitude in freestyle circles.
How would you describe the lofoten collection? The style expression of the collection is a combination of technical knowledge from climbing attire and the fit from snowboard clothes. We wanted lofoten products to be durable enough and to have all the new and correct technical details. It also turned out that people liked our use of color, which was something completely new when we launched lofoten back in 2004. Why did you give the collection the name “lofoten”? Mostly because some of the first photos from the new collection were taken in Lofoten, which is the world’s most beautiful place in Northern Norway. And then this is a collection that is made for freeriding and big mountains – which are typical of Lofoten.
Norrøna lofoten The complete freeride collection
The Warmest
See the collection at norrona.com or find your nearest store at norrona.com/stores
The Long
The Puffy
The Original
The Minimalist
Welcome to nature
The Insulated
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Deep Secrets
Popstarmøre
Text: Eivind Eidslott Photo: Bård Basberg, Ståle Aklestad and Nikolai Schirmer
A conversation with the pop star Sigrid about what may be the most important thing of all: The Sunnmøre Alps!
and then passed on that joy of skiing to us kids. One of my favorite activities is to cruise in powder with ski touring equipment. It doesn’t get better than that. But I often go on nordic mountain skis with leather boots, too. I’m as used to trying my hand at Telemark turns on skinny skis as I am to ski touring, in a way.”
The Sunnmøre Alps are almost too good to be true. If you’re lucky enough to get here, the mountains appear more like a reflection of the air, a mirage, the vision of a mad architect. Imagine taking a little New Zealand, adding a dash of Patagonia and some pinnacles from the Dolomites, and then plant this unique remix on Norway’s west coast, by the ocean, and enhanced by wind, and low pressure fronts, and magical light, and the fjords.
– What are your three favorite ski summit trips in Sunnmøre? “I must mention the classic: Kolåstind (Elevation: 1,432 meters). I think it’s really nice. I don’t think that was my first summit trip, but it was one of the first I remember and gave me a real sense of mastery. I remember the first time we went there – I think I was in secondary school – and it was the first time I went nordic mountain skiing with skins, and I remember that I pretty much raced up all the slopes, because I was climbing past all these super guys with such giga-equipment. On the way down, it may have been a slightly different matter.
These mountains – these landscapes – are like graphic design. Like art. Like a never-ending performance that no reviewer ever fully grasps. These mountains are a painting. And right here, in the middle of this colossal watercolor, is where Sigrid grew up. Sigrid Solbakk Raabe. Known for major hits like Don’t Kill My Vibe, Sucker Punch, Strangers and Mirror. The 24-year-old has half a million followers on Instagram and the whole world as her stage. But that’s not what this interview is about. This interview is about the Sunnmøre Alps. The beauty of this is that all interviews about the Sunnmøre Alps are always about so much more. It is inevitable, because the Sunnmøre Alps offer so many impulses. So much glow. So much spirit. So much soul. The Sunnmøre Alps are a passion. The Sunnmøre Alps may even be the defining metaphor. “I come from a family that believed in a healthy upbringing in the great outdoors,” says Sigrid. She is standing outside a recording studio on the Western Norway island of Giske, overlooking the North Sea with the northwesters wafting her hair. The city of Ålesund is behind her and the Sunnmøre Alps rise as some sort of revelation in the distance. “My mum is from Ålesund and grew up with skis on her feet. She did downhill for many years. She raced, so she is awesome on skis. Then she found my dad, Håkon, from Bærum, just outside Oslo. I think it was mum who took dad ski touring to different summits. He had done it a little before, but they ended up here, in the Sunnmøre district,
Nonetheless, I have now been to Kolåstind many times. I think I love that summit because it’s quite a long way to go – at least I think so. I love that something happens all the time. First you climb that hill over there, then it’s around that corner, into a valley and through the small gorge. Then there’s the glacier high up there – and then it’s up to the tiny, weird peak. The view up there is absolutely insane! I think Kolåstind is a classic for good reason. It’s the same as with pop songs, really – where people are like: “Oh, pop music is so stupid with all the clichés and blah blah blah”. But there’s a reason why a pop song becomes huge. That’s because it’s good music. It doesn’t turn into a cliché if something rings true, if you get my point.” – Other summits in Sunnmøre you want to recommend? “I’m a sucker for Vasstrandsegga (Elevation: 561 meters) on nordic mountain skis. I think it is a very easy and nice trip. I did it six times in a very short period during the first lockdown of the pandemic.” – But is Vasstrandsegga as spectacular as many other Sunnmøre mountains? “No and that’s exactly what I think is nice – that makes it such a nice trek. I can manage to do Vasstrandsegga even after a long day in the recording studio at Giske. During the lockdown, I started skiing there alone, as well. I didn’t do much of that before. But it’s fine. I liked it.”
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Above: The summit of Skårasalen in the Sunnmøre Alps, Norway. One of pop star Sigrid’s favourites. Right: “Sunnmøre is beautiful even when the weather is bad,” says Sigrid. “I think it makes the mountains cooler. The fact that you have to keep up with the light and the weather, and that you always have to be on – I think that is very cool.”
– A third recommendation? “Maybe I should say Skårasalen (Elevation: 1,542 meters)? Or wait a minute. This is tough. I don’t know exactly which line I should follow. I’m a sucker for Høgsvora (Elevation: 1,163 meters), too. Can I have three or four favorites?” – I think we can handle four. “Skårasalen has a very nice view, then. But wait a minute. Can I say Ytstevasshornet (Elevation: 1,330 meters) instead of Skårasalen?” – No problem. “I think that peak is so nice! You go up in a kind of cut, and then you enter a bowl, a great place to stop for lunch. The first time I was there, with mum and dad, was not that many years ago because it was in the middle of a lot of tours in many different countries. I’d come home, some vacation or another, and hadn’t grasped the insane amount of sound I’d been surrounded with for a very long time.
“I just have to give a shout out to Norrøna,” says Sigrid, international pop star and designer of one of Norrøna’s Gore-Tex jackets. “It was designed in collaboration with my mum. That jacket would not have come into being without her help. She is the queen of practical clothing. It’s a little embarrassing, but that jacket is so good that I wear it all year round. I admit it is a bit stuck-up to go around in something you designed yourself.”
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Above: The Kolåstind peak in the Sunnmøre Alps, Norway, is another of Sigrid’s favourite summits.
Right: “Don’t forget that I’m a songwriter,” says Sigrid. “Every time there is a bit of weather that stirs emotions, I’m ready for inspiration. I think I would have had a hard time staying put where the weather was always nice. I’m not tempted to live in LA because I think having the same weather all the time would drive me crazy.”
It was London, New York and LA the whole time, and being surrounded by sound all the time with no peace and quiet, ever. Then I get home to Ålesund, and we head for Ytstevasshornet, and up the little snow gully, and everything was completely quiet. I hadn’t experienced silence for months, and it was just such a big impact. Then I realized how important silence is.”
– Have you taken him on any trips in the Sunnmøre Alps? “Yes, definitely. Kolåstind was one of the first. And Vardane (Elevation: 776 meters.) on Sula, of course. It was so incredibly nice. A lunch break with Nikolai often involves a photo shoot oriented to the next line he wants to ski. He is always planning. Like: ‘Ohh, I want to ski that line!’ That’s fun.
– Your boyfriend is Nikolai Schirmer – one of the best steep skiers Norway has ever fostered – and who is also interviewed in this magazine. What is it like to be with him? “Nikolai is totally amazing. I’m so proud – every single day! He’s so nice to be on a trek with. I remember thinking about it a bit at first – that this could be interesting! We have slightly different skiing backgrounds, so to speak. But then we found out that he also liked to go on normal treks. So, he doesn’t have to throw himself off a cliff every time he goes skiing, does he? So then we found a very good middle way.”
– Have you managed to get him to rediscover normal nordic mountain skiing and the slightly calmer side of outdoor life? “Yes, I believe so. At least I like to think I can take some of the credit for that.” – Finally, if you were to describe the Sunnmøre Alps to someone who has never been here – what would you say? “I would just want to say one thing.” – What? “Wild.”
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Deep Year Endless Winter
What we talk about when we talk about winter – and skiing – in Norway. Text: Alexander Urrang Hauge Photo: Vegard Aasen and Simen Aarset Gjeksvik
Norrøna Magazine The Deep Issue
Norwegian Winter. Sometime in late June, maybe July, or sometimes even in August, it happens: The most diehard Norwegian skier sets the very last carve of the season. A lame slope of wet snow, hanging like a limp, gray-white seagull in the summer sky, marks the end of another Norwegian winter. On that slope in the summer sun, another question gets tossed into the air: When does Norwegian winter really begin? The question of when it starts is as imprecise as determining when it ends. And note the use of the word really, which indicates that there is another level of truth. A truth that you sense, and that goes deeper than hard meteorological facts and dry statistics. August is the last ace up the sleeve of Norwegian summer. Maybe it can play a wild joker in September, but by then the summer really is over. Some refuse to accept it, while others welcome autumn. But in a rigged game of chance, in which the globe always turns away from the sun, winter is the ‘house’ and the ‘house’ always wins. “Everyone likes summer, but I long for winter. Every September I have regular routines. I make lists of favourite places on (Norway’s online weather service) yr.no. I check every morning at breakfast and have some mountains that I follow extra closely, both in Romsdalen
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and in Jotunheimen. And then it happens: It snows!,” says Norrøna ambassador Marthe Kristoffersen. Norwegian winter is like an old boxer who bends stiffly, but knows the routine as he stumbles under the ropes and into the ring. He’s there before anyone can ring the bell, before the opponent has even found his corner or the audience has taken its seats. No one has straightened out the white canvas and the locker rooms are full of echoes, nerves and pep talks without points. Winter still has its gloves and fists shielding its face. Short steps from side to side, forward, backward. Ice blue eyes that barely blink and a gaping mouth that does not breathe. Winter Nerves. In the cities, summer has already packed it in. The sports shops dig out last year’s offerings and put away floating mattresses and bicycles. Soon, this year’s ski equipment arrives, stirring a deep need. Exam nerves torment students in broad daylight. On sidewalks and in parks, leaves lie like wet cornflakes. If there is a mountain nearby, the eyes relentlessly seek out the summit. Is that a white sprinkle of powdered sugar on top? Is there fog, is there a cloud, is this a hallucination, are my glasses fogged up? Frost on the grass and a thin layer of ice on the puddles are cold indications that now … at last … now something might happen.
Left: True Norwegians always long for this – even in summer: fresh, deep snow – and the possibility to surf down a mountain.
Above: An example of skiing in the Jotunheimen mountain range in Norway: steep, deep and fast.
“When autumn comes, I sit and monitor the weather forecast. I get almost feverishly preoccupied with the weather and especially look for weather that comes from one direction – northwest,” says Norrøna ambassador Asbjørn Eggebø Næss, who lives at Hjelset outside the Western Norway town of Molde. “If the weather and precipitation come from the northwest, skiing is guaranteed, but if it comes from the southwest, we get nothing,” says Asbjørn, who approaches autumn with his body tingling as it gears up for winter. “It can happen in September, but most often in October, and no later than November. When the northwesters kick in, we get fantastic conditions on Trolltind, Blåfjell and Åbittinden, all near Sunndalsfjord. You get to a point where you really feel the butterflies in your stomach. Then it’s incredibly important to get ready. You have to dig out the skis, scrape off storage wax. Check that bindings and boots are adjusted. You have to pack your bag. It’s coming soon. Be gone bicycles, boats and such summer stuff. Now we have to focus. Winter is coming and you must be ready,” he says.
A skier emerges. The first days of skiing in late autumn may not be the ones that shine brightest, but they are still the most important. Enthusiasts hump their way through dense birch forest on a thin layer of snow, with headlamps and with mouths agape. Not because the conditions are epic, but because those are the conditions that are. On those days, the Norwegian skier is a fragile figure, with wheezing lungs and the taste of blood in his mouth as he gains elevation by scrambling past the tree line. His thighs burn on the first turns through heather and dwarf birch. Maybe the best thing about the very first days of skiing is riding on self- confidence and shocking the dust off your skiing muscles. “I say to friends and family: From now on daylight is for skiing. If we are going to do anything else, it has to be after dark. Or wait a second,” says Asbjørn. “On days with flat light, it’s better to wait until dark. Then you can use a headlamp for good light. I always promise myself 30 days of skiing before the New Year. It always goes wrong, but you need goals,” says Asbjørn. “You have to be eager and, of course, that cuts into family time. But you can always manage a couple weekends. Everything has its price,” he concludes.
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“I remember a season when I was not ready for winter to end. It felt traumatic.”
Right: When winter and spring is over, some Norwegians still go skiing. Like here – crossing a small mountain lake close to the Folgefonna glacier on the west coast.
Norwegian winter is not just something that happens in the mountains. Of course, there are plateaus, peaks and mountains. But the nation lies in the fetal position, obsessed with weather and constantly scouting for various kinds of light, for example, sunbeams hitting snow.
“Our winter is in danger,” says Marthe. “At times I almost suffer anxiety, and I feel the signs become clearer that things are not as they should be. I get a stomachache from thinking that Norwegian winter is changing. We must take the climate issue seriously.”
Ski loves you. “I am really happy during Norwegian winter. In the past, when I was a competitive cross-country skier, I remember the gray snow around Europe. It was heavy and colourless. Winter in Norway is about drier, lighter, cleaner and cozier snow. Norwegian winter is the cold and fresh season that people think only exists on postcards. Norwegian winter is special and real,” says Marthe.
Gradually, winter loses. Round by round. Winter melts away and is brought to its knees by sunshine, chlorophyll and access to ice cream. You crawl higher up on the mountains. You search for shadows and unspoiled slush. The winter tires on your car roll on wet asphalt at best. Suddenly one day, maybe in a parking lot or outside a local grocery store with strawberries in your shopping bag, it dawns on you. Less than an hour ago, you were standing on a peak with skis on your feet, sweat on your brow and dozens of ski days implanted in your legs. You’re in control, you know the routine, you got an early start on summer with a tan forehead and a weird tan line halfway down your forearms. Everything has hit its peak and then it’s just over?
When winter rounds New Year, he is no longer the dazed boxer in an empty ring. His blows are solid and accurate. His legs dance and he is no longer shadow boxing. Mountain passes close, cabins get snowed under, and people literally get blown away. Now it’s about maintaining a full head of steam. Skiing skills and self-confidence are closely linked. The whole goal through the winter is to nurture the skiing instinct. A ten-day break almost means starting from scratch. “For me, it’s about getting away. Load the car, get going, grab the skis. Weather and conditions aren’t always right. I have been blown head over heels in Jotunheimen, while barely seeing a thing, but when I get in the car afterwards I am always aglow with happiness,” says Marthe. It’s about frequency, about skiing more. You get better throughout the season, but you also get a little satiated. It’s about being a bad weather skier. Hold on to the rising curve. The curve of your own physical shape rises in tandem with the snow depth. Norwegian winter has control over the mountains. January, February and March are like its victory march. April is the season’s ‘Ragnarock’. You get to the point that you know winter is living on borrowed time. “I tend to lose some of the passion when dry snow is gone and the decline begins. Then it pays to sniff out the high north sides,” says Asbjørn. Or you have to head north: Lofoten, Lyngen, maybe all the way up to Svalbard. Protecting winter. Those who love winter have cause for concern.
Last trip, last round. If winter is still boxing, he is exhausted now. His arms hang limp at his sides. He staggers and stumbles and waits for the fight to turn around. But summer knows “Rumble in the Jungle” by heart. Now it’s only about hitting the mat gracefully. No one falls as easily and mercilessly as a winter when it loses to June and July. “I had a beautiful closing trip with Benjamin Fortun,” says Asbjørn. “We started in the yard at home. Went exactly 22 nautical miles into the fjord by boat and then a nautical mile to the mountains. Store Vengetind peak is 1,852 meters above sea level. When we got home, we just made the last day of school celebration by sailing in with the boat. Then there was a great atmosphere and water skiing, and I understood that this trip was the last nail in the coffin. Right then and there, winter was over,” says Asbjørn. “I have had summers where I go from skiing on Stryn to skiing in South America. But I can’t let myself do that. I think it’s good to get the hunger back. A seven-month winter season is pretty good.” One season, Marthe fled summer to a last resort. “I remember a season when I was not ready for winter to end. It felt traumatic. So, I drove to north Norway and Kvaløya, where I have family. Eventually the snow melted there, too. ‘Now it’s over,’ I thought. Then it was suddenly July,” says Marthe. “The good thing is that there is only a small window of summer before winter returns.”
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Deep Enthusiasm The Designer Text: Eivind Eidslott Photo: Stefan Bogner/Porsche
– Skiing, being in the mountains and having this feeling of floating down in fresh powder is such an emotional thing. It gives me the power and the energy to be good at my work. Without skiing, I think I would not have this creativity, says Michael Mauer, Head of Design at Porsche.
Do you remember your first day skiing, Michael? That was basically when my dad put me on skis when I was a very little boy, three years old or something like that. In fact, I can hardly remember it. But when my life started, it was connected to skiing. Do you know where it was? I was born in 1962, and I grew up in the southern part of Schwarzwald in Germany, in a little village, one thousand meters above sea level, where we were surrounded by snow in the winter. You have worked as a ski instructor, when did this start? In our little village I was a member of the local ski club. When I was thirteen or fourteen years old, I was asked to take some groups with very small kids for basic training. I liked it, so I decided to take the education needed to reach the highest level of ski instructor in Germany. You need four years of education before the examination, and I decided to do that when I was 19, I think. How did you feel about teaching, and trying to pass your own enthusiasm on to other people? I really liked to teach the small kids. They were always eager to learn how to ski. But at the same time I was also a surf instructor, and even though I realized that I needed the money to live, I found that whenever there was good conditions and wind for surfing, I had to teach. Often we had one meter of fresh powder, and then I was on the pit trying to teach people how to start! It wasn’t easy for me when I didn’t really have the time to ski or surf for myself, so I lost a little bit of my passion for it. I realized that maybe I needed to draw a line, and do skiing for a hobby. You know, my parents used to say that if you want to become a ski instructor, become a ski instructor, but if you want to earn money, then don’t! What became your favourite ski destination? Well, after Schwarzwald it’s Switzerland, in Engadin, where we did the movie, Porsche – The Perfect Line, with Aksel Lund Svindal, the famous Norwegian alpine skier.
I know Engadin very well, because my best ski buddy lives there. The other destination is always Verbier in Wallis, so for me it’s mainly Switzerland. Where did you have your deepest powder experience on skis? That I remember very well. Over the last years I’ve spent more than two weeks a year at the end of January in Canada, in Revelstoke. There is always good powder, but in 2018, we had fresh powder every night. I remember I was using the fattest skies I have, it was hard to breathe in this snow, it was ten days of epic speed!
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How important is skiing in your life today? Thanks to my dad I decided to become a car designer, and skiing is sports for me, but it is so important: I strongly believe that you have to do things that have nothing to do with your job. I’m addicted to powder! In the movie The Perfect Line with alpine skier Aksel Lund Svindal, you say that skiing boosts your creativity? You see, each day I have meetings talking car design, how the brand sells, how it should be developed, on brand identity, we try to respect the history but still be modern and relevant for new customers. I’m strongly convinced that you must give your brain the opportunity to process
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watching this clean, untouched space that inspires me more than anything else. Recently I exchanged some ideas with Jørgen Jørgensen, the leader of Norrøna: One word that I think is important for Norrøna, is contrast. I still remember when I was introduced to Norrøna, it had extremely strong colours, unusual, different colours. For me, it’s like the contrast of light and shadow when I look at the mountains on a beautiful day. How did you discover the brand Norrøna? One of my best buddies is running the Norrøna sport shop in St. Moritz, Nanuk. Maybe ten years ago I visited the shop, and my friend told me, “Ah, look at this, I have a new
the clothes are completely different. I just realized that the functionality and the quality is phenomenal. When we talk about Canada, that’s really hard core testing in deep powder. I brought my Norrøna clothing there, and I wasn’t cold, I was never wet in comparison to some of the others wearing brands with different functionality and quality. I mean, first and foremost as a brand, you need quality, especially if you have a certain price point, that’s something you expect, and then the brand must stick out, and it did, it was so different and fit so perfectly for me to express my love of free riding. What was the first Norrøna product you bought? Was it the lofoten line? Exactly, and very colourful. It was a yellow jacket and blue pants maybe, then I even had some trousers where the front side was orange, the backside was yellow, and the pockets were green! And now, my latest product is a backpack that is olive green with red, little zippers. Again, functionality – I’ve never had a backpack that is so functional to put on. I feel that the people developing this stuff are not doing this at a desk in an office, obviously they try it out themselves.
that in the fashion industry, you have to be much faster, and this makes it maybe more complicated. How can the outdoor industry, and also the car industry contribute to a more sustainable future? Creating and building cars and operating cars create problems for the climate. Porsche is very active in becoming green and talking about our processes and our use of material, and I think that brands and companies in general have a responsibility in talking about their materials. What is the origin, where do they come from, and is the product produced in a way that is less harmful to the environment. And for a company like Norrøna, producing items to use in
Norrøna call their design philosophy ‘loaded minimalism’. What do you think of a label like that? I just love it. I like minimalism anyway. That’s how we try to impress with the Porsche design: No decoration, minimalistic, but on the other hand loaded as well. I would say, performance-wise, stuff like this is loaded with technology, and the Norrøna brand is loaded with functionality. How you can air vent, the way to handle the zippers, the material, you can spend hours outside a day and not get wet. So Norrøna is very much connected to the modern element.
all these daily impressions, all these thoughts, it needs time to do something completely different. Whenever I come back from a trip, if it is Canada, if it’s just a weekend, I feel so full of energy and it starts a reflection, on a Monday after a good weekend. I am more creative, I have new ideas, and I think I would not have that feeling if I was thinking about car designs for 24 hours a day. Is it the nature or the activity that inspires you? I think it is both. It is the time off, which we just talked about, but everyone has different sources of inspiration. For one person it is travelling to cities, going to museums, to exhibitions. For me it is sitting on the top of a mountain,
“As a designer, the task is not just designing the surface of the car, or the surface of a jacket. You design a product and try to visualize certain values of the brand, to impress people to buy the product, to buy the design,” says Michael Mauer, head of design at Porsche. He is an enthusiastic skier himself and discovered Norrøna’s clothing ten years ago.
As a designer yourself, what is your most important work task? Is it the functionality or the aesthetics? Or is it the combination? Some customers are attracted to the functionality, some to the look of a product, maybe more people are attracted in the first glance by the aesthetics, by the look of it, but then the quality and the functionality has to confirm the quality of the product. If you don’t have this aspect, you will see after a certain period that the customer moves away from your brand.
brand,” then he showed me Norrøna, and immediately I thought “wow,” pretty colourful, very unusual. At that time I was already very much in this kind of free riding. I worked with Saab then, and Saab had a close collaboration with Salomon. With off-piste skiing, you would like to visualize that you’re not this traditional on-piste skier, so I like that
Do you think there are similarities between being an outdoors clothing designer at Norrøna and a car designer, for example at Porsche? As a designer, the task is not just designing the surface of the car, or the surface of a jacket. You design a product and try to visualize certain values of the brand, to impress people to buy the product, to buy the design. I see a lot of similarities between these brands, but the big difference is
nature, which you would like to keep and preserve, this will become even more important in the future. So, where and when will you ski next? I try to ski every weekend, basically. Right now it’s more complicated travelling between countries, but still, normally I ski every weekend. I’m always looking forward. As we speak, it is snowing in the alps again, so I’m watching the weather and the forecast, and we’ll see if I find the right day. How often do you check the weather forecast? Ha ha, I would say two, three times a day!
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Deep in Japan
Snow Country
Text: Hiroyoshi Soma Photo: Masanari Tonosaki, Hiroyoshi Soma, Makoto Takahashi and Hiroshi Suganuma
There is a place where the snow is always deep. Welcome to Hakkoda.
The day begins. The Hakkoda Ropeway website says that the snowfall the day before was 20 cm near Hakkoda Sanso. The wind is a little strong in the northwest, the temperature is -10°C and the visibility is about 50 meters. It is still snowing, so the snow quality must be good. Even if we can’t see much, light snow will not be a problem to ski. A few guests and I decide to take the Douzou route from the ropeway’s summit station. It will be a deep day.
Norrøna Magazine The Deep Issue
Aomori prefecture, located at the northernmost tip of Honshu in Japan, is surrounded by the sea on three sides, and is easily affected by monsoons in winter that bring snowfall. Hakkoda is located almost in the center of Aomori Prefecture. Hakkouda is a generic name for a series of mountains, and the tallest mountain is Hakkoda-odake (1585 m), which is also an active volcano. Ten major peaks stand alongside it. Each of them has its own slope to ski. Many hot springs of different qualities gush out from the surrounding area and most of the lodges feature one. The mountains of the Tohoku region, where Aomori Prefecture is located, are generally gentle and compact in size, making them easy to visit. In the case of Mount Hakkoda in particular, it only takes about an hour to get there from Aomori Airport or Shin-Aomori Station. If you leave Tokyo Haneda Airport in the morning, you will be in a different world in the afternoon.
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As a side note, the main image of this mountain in Japan is based on the 1902 Japanese Army snow marching exercise – that resulted in the death of 199 people. Although it happened a long time ago, many Japanese still talk about it. Osamu Nukaga is 64-years-old, self-employed and a local ski enthusiast. He says: – The central route is my favorite. This is the route from the ropeway station to the top of the mountain down to the Sangayu Onsen. I ski through the Aomori Abies to Kenashitai, a snowfield. When the snow melts, this is a marshland where alpine plants bloom. After walking through the beech forest, we come to a slope with a view of the hot spring, and all we have to do is slide down to the inn. This is an old downhill route, but nowadays there are few visitors, so you can enjoy a quiet ski tour.
The great charm of these mountain is its abundant snowfall. Incidentally, Aomori City, located at the foot of Mt. Hakkoda, is said to be the heaviest snowfall city in Japan, with an annual snowfall of 812 cm. In January and February, there is snowfall almost every day, reaching its peak in February, with the deepest snowfall being about 5 meters at the area around Sangayu Onsen.
Takamasa Sato knows these mountains. He is 55-years-old, a public servant and loves the never-ending snow. He says: – Hinadake (1240 m) is my favorite summit. It is a peak located at the eastern end of the Kita-Hakkoda mountain range, and I do a round trip from the road at the foot of the mountain. The slope is quite steep, and you can enjoy both the stream and the ridge. There is bowl terrain that snowboarders in particular will love.
Therefore, the probability of encountering fresh powder snow is high. This also means that there is a low rate of clear skies, and sometimes the ski slopes are closed due to strong winds. However, it is also true that the rough weather brings excellent conditions. As the weather continues and the winter season reaches its midpoint, the juhyo (ice under the trees) that is so popular with tourists, begins to grow large, creating a scene that is unique to this mountain during the harsh winter season. If you are lucky enough to encounter a clear day, you will be able to see the fantastic white scenery covered with juhyo.
The ski season at Mount Hakkoda is from late December to mid-May, with the powder snow season lasting until early March, and the corn snow season starting in April and continuing until the end of the season. This mountain is not like other Japanese ski resorts, such as Niseko or Hakuba, as it has only one 2600 m ropeway and one 600 m chair lift. There are only a few lodging facilities scattered around, and no place to play at night. There is no night skiing, neither. This is a place where you can simply enjoy skiing.
“This is a place where you can simply enjoy skiing.”
Left: The rough weather in Hakkoda, Japan, also brings excellent conditions. Rider: Hiroyoshi Soma
Below: The juhyo – ice that is frozen in the trees – creates a unique atmosphere in the Hakkoda Mountains.
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Hakkoda’s average snow base is an impressive four-plus-meters each year. That makes some memorable ski days. Rider: Hiroyoshi Soma
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The main way to enjoy the area, is by ski touring. As a mountain range, Hakkoda is suitable for this kind of skiing, and several routes have been developed by local people since ancient times. Its history began around 1949. The route starting from Sangayu Onsen – the hot spring – is probably the best way to enjoy the atmosphere of the mountain, where the forest zone continues until the summit.
from where we put on the skins and decide to take the statue route down via the summit of Maedake (1252 m). With its compact and moderately steep slopes, Maedake can be enjoyed even in winter when visibility is poor. The open slope is covered with fresh snow, and after a large turn down, we enter the tree line. The slope disappears, but we cruise through the unique beech forest of this region.
Back to our great day. From the summit of Tamoyachi (1324 m), where the ropeway crosses, we ski along the ridge to the northeast. After checking the quality of the snow, we follow a gentle slope and slide into a stream,
In deep snow.
Behind the Seams
Norrøna tamok
Jørgen Jørgensen – owner and CEO at Norrøna – tells the story behind Norrøna’s newest collection.
Text: Eivind Eidslott Photo: Nikolai Schirmer
“What makes the expanded ski and board culture so exciting, is that people are interested in so many different directions and different styles,” says Jørgen Jørgensen.
Facts
Hakkoda
In general: Hakkoda’s average snow base is an impressive 4-plus-metres each year. There are runs as long as 7 km that stay true to the mountain’s natural form, you’ll be able to challenge the mountain as is, along with its natural elements. It’s not just the powder on the ground that makes Hakkoda unique – the mountain’s characteristic “snow monsters” make an unforgettable scenic backdrop to your snow adventure. The snow monsters are produced when water droplets carried by strong seasonal winds clash with the evergreens and freeze in place to create unique shapes. There are only a select few mountains in Japan that have the unique climatic conditions necessary to produce these snow monsters, and Hakkoda is one of the best among them.
Season: Hakkoda’s ski season typically runs from mid-December until mid-May – depending on snow and weather conditions. Access: From Haneda Airport: 1 hour 15 mins. From Tokyo Station catch the Tohoku Shinkansen. Bullet Train to Shin Aomori Station: 3 hours. More information: hakkoda-ski.com
“This makes it extra exciting for us who design clothing: Who do we want to reach? And what kind of wishes and needs do these enthusiasts have? With tamok, we wanted to address the board sports community. We took inspiration from the board-sports culture in color, design and fit. When the first tamok products were launched in 2017, they had an army look, while the collection is now more inspired by the American cowboy look.”
What characterizes the tamok collection? These are clothes that are made for the playful snowboard and split board community – and of course all other skiers and freeriders who like this style. The colors are clearly darker and more earth-colored than in the lofoten and lyngen collection – and many appreciate this. In addition, you get all the necessary technical features you want from a premium freeride product. Tamok is already a success among freeriders around the world? What’s cool and exciting about the tamok line, is that it’s still relatively new. Those who use tamok today are mostly very good freeriders – who are both stylish and like to be first-movers. And this is precisely how we want this collection to grow: slowly, healthy and organic, in the core community.
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Norrøna Magazine The Deep Issue
Deep Lines
Ambassadors of Snow
Andrew Drummond (40) Residence: Jackson, NH, USA
Text: Eivind Eidslott and Julie Uggen
Norrøna’s ski ambassadors talk about their favourite moments in the mountains.
Follow Andrew: Instagram: @sr_drummond and @ski_the_whites Facebook: @AndrewDrummondNH Youtube: asdrummo
Life is full of opportunities. You can become an ambassador for your own country, move to another nation, arrange important meetings, eat heavy sandwiches, dress formally and be diplomatic. Or you can become an ambassador for an outdoor company, move out into nature, arrange important trips, eat heavy sandwiches, dress properly and be natural. Say hello to some of Norønna’s ambassadors on skis. Americans. Swedes. Swiss. Norwegians. Austrians. An international gang in love with the mountains all year round. Strong personalities who are passionate about skiing, about nature, about deep snow. Join them in Mount Washington, on the west coast of Norway, in Chamonix, in Hakuba, Engelberg and Montana. Join them down a steep flank, an exposed couloir. Join them in the air. Join them upside down. See how snow’s diplomats work.
Photographer: Andrew Drummond Photo taken: March, 2019 Tell us about the place where this photo was shot. This photo was taken in Tuckerman Ravine, Mount Washington. There is a rich history of backcountry skiing in the northeast and most of that eminates from this location. The first skier documented in this zone was in 1914! How did you feel when you were riding this line? Skiing at night has always appealed to me. There’s something about skiing with a headlamp (or under a full moon) that enhances the experience of being in such a familar place that I’ve skied hundreds of times.
Why do you like this particular image of yourself? This is a composit of five photos taken one calm night when I wanted to capture what night skiing can be like in the right conditions. I set my camera on a tripod and set it for 30 second exposures. The weather can be so horrendous here that sometimes your ideal weather windows will come at night. What do you do to reduce your carbon footprint? I try to actively make personal choices every day that reduce energy consumption: driving less, sourcing food locally and voting for legislation that creates a larger systemic change.
We can only do so much at a local level, so it’s important to support climate advocacy organizations who are working to make legislative changes that go beyond the scope of what we can do as individuals. What does skiing mean to you? Skiing is everything to me. It gives me incredible joy and it’s how I prefer to travel in the mountains. It has allowed me to open a ski shop and introduce the sport to so many other skiers and snowboarders. We love our local mountains and sharing ski photos and videos helps to convey how important it is to protect these areas of wilderness.
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Asbjørn Eggebø Næss (41)
Benjamin Forthun (27)
Residence: Molde, Norway
Residence: Bergen, Norway
Follow Asbjørn: Instagram: @asbjorn_eggebo
Follow Benjamin: Instagram: @benjaminforthun
Photographer: Ståle Johan Aklestad Photo taken: February, 2021
Tell us about the place where this photo was shot. This photo is shot on an island called Otrøya. It is between Molde and Ålesund. It is as close as you get to the Norwegian Sea. It is not often you have such snowpack this far out. This day was shared with Nikolai Schirmer. How did you feel when you were riding this line? I was super thrilled because it is such a sight. Looking down on the small houses, skiing great snow. This summit is called Opstadhornet and is a loose piece of mountain that will at some point collapse and slide into the ocean. It is monitored by the government and it moves slowly as we speak.
Why do you like this particular image of yourself? The feeling of skiing into the sea. Great snow and nice features keeps it playful. Love it! What do you do to reduce your carbon footprint? This picture shows what I do. I drive an electric car to a local mountain and ski it. I prefer doing this instead of traveling far for something similar. What does skiing mean to you? It has been my life for so many years, so I guess it is hard to live without it.
Photographer: Hallvard Kolltveit Photo taken: April 16, 2021
Tell us about the place where this photo was shot. The photo is from a trip to Hurrungane in mid April. Hurrungane is a place southwest in Jotunheimen National Park, right next to Turtagrø. The plan was to ski down the Austanbotntind couloir. The couloir is about 985 vertical feet. The photos were taken from Great Soleibotntind. How did you feel when you were riding this line? I felt fast! On my GoPro I reached a top speed of 112 km/h down that line! When I ski a line I don’t feel much, the really good feeling comes when you get to the bottom in one piece.
Why do you like this particular image of yourself? I like this image because of what it represents; one of the best days/adventures in the mountains this winter! Doing some fast and steep skiing together with some really good friends. What do you do to reduce your carbon footprint? Minimize the use of plastic, recycle, buy quality products that last longer and less consumption in general. What does skiing mean to you? Freedom.
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Norrøna Magazine The Deep Issue
Michael “Bird” Shaffer (40 something)
Christian Nummedal (25) Residence: Oslo, Norway
Residence: Washington, USA
Follow Christian: Instagram: @nummedal
Follow Bird: Instagram: @Birdwhere
Photographer: Cedric Bernardini Photo taken: May, 2019
Tell us about the place where this photo was shot. Chamonix France: north face of Aiguille du Midi. How did you feel when you were riding this line? I was looking for cocktail ice for apres ski and thought a chunk from this beautiful piece would suffice. Ha ha! Cedric and I had eyed this special piece of ice along the north face and I thought it would be possible to line it up for a special image. What do you think?
Why do you like this particular image of yourself? I love shots where I am a little bird playing in the power zone of nature. What do you do to reduce your carbon footprint? Ski and fly close to home most days of the year, but I am fortunate to be from a place where I can do this easily. Plus I buy local and try to eliminate single use consumerism. What does skiing mean to you? It’s a way of life.
Photographer: Christoffer Schach Photo taken: July, 2020
Tell us about the place where this photo was shot. The photo was taken at Folgefonna, Norway. Folgefonna is the third biggest glacier in Norway and has a really nice park in the summer. How did you feel when you were riding this line? This was captured during a sunset session we had with the national team. Growing up I was always watching ski movies from Folgefonna, so skiing here and especially during the magic sunset light, just hits different!
Why do you like this particular image of yourself? The scenery, the trick and the light. It has it all in my eyes. What do you do to reduce your carbon footprint? I am trying to minimize my travelling, I eat less meat and also minimize the use of plastic. I try to educate myself and am getting more and more aware of my carbon footprint. What does skiing mean to you? It’s the best! Nothing beats the feeling of skiing down the mountain on a pow day or a freshly groomed park!
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Tobi Tritscher (31)
Gjermund Nordskar (32)
Residence: Salzburg, Austria
Residence: Sogndal, Norway
Follow Tobi: Instagram: @tobi_tritscher Facebook: Tobi Tritscher Youtube: Tobi Tritscher
Follow Gjermund: Instagram: @gjermundnordskar Facebook: @gjermundnordskar
Photographer: Matthias Fritzenwallner Photo taken: February, 2021
Tell us about the place where this photo was shot. The place where we shot this picture is really close to where I live; we wanted to take this shot for a few years already as it needs the right wind and snow conditions. How did you feel when you were riding this line? Pretty much as always when I’m out skiing: living in the moment and enjoying it to the fullest.
Why do you like this particular image of yourself? Because it worked out great in terms of working together as a team with photographer and skier. What do you do to reduce your carbon footprint? I reduce, reuse and recycle. I travel less. I raise awareness – and use local food. What does skiing mean to you? Skiing means, passion, hobby as well as a job to me.
Photographer: Vegard Aasen Photo taken: Spring 2020
Tell us about the place where this photo was shot. The shot is taken on the summit of a very magnificent mountain in one of Norway’s most spectacular National Parks: Jotunheimen. How did you feel when you were riding this line? I felt a lot of joy and a bit nervous. The line I skied was technical and close to a big cornice I had to keep a safe distance from. Why do you like this particular image of yourself? The view from the summit of Great Smørstabbtinden in Jotunheimen is very special for me. The mountain range called Smørstabbtindan is alpine and spectacular to hike and ski. I like this photo because it illustrates how small a human (skier) is in big nature, while it covers some of the
wild scenery around. Can you see me skiing? This can remind me of that; nature will always be the biggest and strongest, so we have to adapt to it, and stop trying to destroy it. If we destroy nature, we destroy ourselves. This image was taken when I wrote a guide book for ski touring in Jotunheimen (Toppturer i Jotunheimen), and it actually ended up being the cover photo for the book! What do you do to reduce your carbon footprint? Travel less abroad and more local here in Norway. Eat less meat. Work with local sustainable business development. And more. What does skiing mean to you? A lot! Skiing is freedom for me and gives me great experiences, friendships, health, and joy!
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Hilary McCloy (38)
Rachel Pohl (28)
Residence: Jackson, NH, USA
Residence: Montana, USA
Follow Hilary: Instagram: @hilarymccloy and @hmccloypt
Follow Rachel: Instagram: @rachel.pohl
Photographer: Andrew Drummond Photo taken: January, 2021
Tell us about the place where this photo was shot. This is in the Left Gully of Tuckerman Ravine on Mount Washington in New Hampshire, USA. How did you feel when you were riding this line? The snow was softer and deeper than normal so it was exciting to try to ski more aggressively and was one of my first runs in the high alpine terrain for the season. Why do you like this particular image of yourself? I like this image because it gives perspective on the surrounding terrain. I was skiing with some good friends that day and I love the pink skis!
What do you do to reduce your carbon footprint? I will try to ride my bike instead of driving a car when I can, I do not eat much meat and when I do, I try to buy only local products and not factory farmed. What does skiing mean to you? Skiing allows me to check out from the rest of my life and feel energized by the physical effort, the freedom of going fast and embracing the beauty of nature. I always finish a run or a day of skiing with a big smile.
Photographer: Jonathan Finch Photo taken: February, 2019
Tell us about the place where this photo was shot. Bridger Mountains, Montana, USA. I grew up skiing in this range and it’s one of my favorite places! The area is known for it’s very light snow, couloirs, and steep technical terrain. How did you feel when you were riding this line? I felt pure joy. This was such a fun day and every line was this deep, the snowpack was stable, and it just felt like everything lined up perfectly. Why do you like this particular image of yourself? I love the simplicity of this image, the bright blue sky contrasted against the spray of powder feels very abstract. As an artist, this photo feels very much like a painting.
What do you do to reduce your carbon footprint? We eat mostly locally harvested game and locally grown food. We work from home and live close to the mountains so we don’t commute to work, we carbon offset all our travel and shipping for my entire art business. What does skiing mean to you? It means happiness, creativity, freedom and endless inspiration for my work as an artist.
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Reine Barkered (39)
Martina Müller (24)
Residence: Åre, Sweden
Residence: Engelberg, Switzerland
Follow Reine: Instagram: @reinebarkered Facebook: @themayorofstomptown
Follow Martina: Instagram: @martinamuller
Photographer: Jeremy Bernard Photo taken: 2019
Tell us about the place where this photo was shot. This was shot in the backcountry of Happo One ski resort (Hakuba, Japan) during the freeride world tour event. Great mountain, but you have to work for it if you want to go freeride there since inbounds off-piste is limited or forbidden. How did you feel when you were riding this line? A little bit nervous before dropping in as I had no idea on how the take off looked or how big the air was going to be. But the snow was great and the terrain mellow so I just took all the speed I could and went for it. I thought I would over rotate a bit but ending up stomping it. Why do you like this particular image of yourself? Partly because it was a little milestone in my
Freeride World Tour-career showing that I was capable of swithing up my riding style a bit. But also I think the fact that there are more people in the frame makes it a bit more interesting, even though the move itself is not that spectacular. And the fact that Jeremy shot this from the hip not knowing where I would jump from. What do you do to reduce your carbon footprint? I have 100 per cent green power at home and I hunt and eat locally grown produce as much as possible. What does skiing mean to you? Cliché perhaps but it is my identity. It’s all I’ve been doing in my life so it’s like asking what eating means to me.
Photographer: Axel Adolfsson Photo taken: February 8, 2021
Tell us about the place where this photo was shot. This shot was taken at my favourite run in Engelberg, Switzerland called Sulz. It’s a wide area with tons of options to be creative while skiing. How did you feel when you were riding this line? At this moment I felt pure joy. My friend and I grew up skiing together in Engelberg. Since she went her own way in ski racing we don’t see each other that often, so a moment like this is a flashback to when we were children having the best time. Why do you like this particular image of yourself? If I look at this picture I see two small people and two tracks surrounded by nature. This makes me appreciate the environment I live in. To be able to experience days like this is a gift.
What do you do to reduce your carbon footprint? I ski a lot of course, but mainly in my hometown. Luckily, I live in a ski resort so I don’t have to travel to go skiing. I am also very conscious about what I eat and avoid meat. What does skiing mean to you? Skiing is where I feel like a child, playing on an endless playground. Like a child, I learn about my environment and about myself as a person. It makes me happy and calm and brings out the best version of myself.
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Deep Pleasures
Northern Soul
Text: Per Asbjørn Risnes jr. Photo: Kari Medig, Sverre Hjørnevik, Getty Images, Bård Basberg and Mattias Fredriksson
How staying outside in the freezing cold is what makes us truly Norwegian. About 10.000 years ago, when the glaciers started to melt, the Norwegian forefather, living on the edge of the ice, probably somewhere in Denmark, did not turn his face towards the southern sun, he did not lie down in the grass, letting the sunbeams thaw his frozen limbs, nor did he sit and ponder the meaning of life. He did not do what most earthlings would. Norwegian humorist Odd Børretzen claimed this in a famous radio stand up, that The First Norwegian immediately, “gathered his children and women and started looking for the disappearing ice.” To this day we, his descendants, repeat this ritual every year. After months of cold snow and depressing darkness, when spring comes rushing towards us, we do not put on our Borsalinos and start strolling in linen suits. We pack our woollen underwear, ski boots and rucksack and head
Left: Sauna and after-ski on board the MS Vulkana, a refurbished fishing boat.
Below: Norrøna-amabassador and mountain guide Robert Caspersen dressed for skiing in the Norwegian mountains.
for our cabins in the remote and high altitude places where winter still hangs on. Norway’s fondness for winter culture might be a madness caused by lack of vitamin d and sunlight. It might also be an inherited knowledge of necessity. After all, winter is all around us. There’s always been a lot of it. Either you embrace it or you go to live in Spain for the winter months. Which of course some Norwegians actually do, but not as many as you might expect, considering our climate. However, the popularity of Norwegian’s favourite past time activity, friluftsliv, or outdoor lifestyle, has been steadily rising from the first settlers, to this day. Says Bente Lier, president of the organisation Norsk Friluftsliv (Yes, we have an NGO dedicated to all things outdoorish): “Norwegians are generally good at embracing every season. A common saying is ‘there is no bad weather, only bad clothing’. To us, this entails that going outdoors is always nice, whether it is rain or sunshine – and that cold or rainy weather is never an excuse for staying indoors.”
There is a red line going all the way from the Norwegian Vikings via the Norwegian polar explorer Roald Amundsen (pictured here in March 1909) to the skiers and mountain enthusiasts of today.
Most Norwegians, whether they enjoy it or not, know how to dress for low temperatures. It starts in kindergarten, where parents are inclined to heavily protest if their kids are not ushered outside in the snow. The common knowledge of how to keep warm in the winter chill, we learned from the race between Roald Amundsen and Robert F. Scott to reach the South Pole. Team Scott was strolling along the ice, like Lords on a countryside estate, in their tailored Harris Tweed wool outfits. Whereas Amundsen’s possé were covered in several loose layers of reindeer and wolf fur skins. Amundsen had learned this by watching the inuits of Greenland. Scott found out the hard way, the lack of insulation of tight fitting clothes, and the slow process of thawing and drying a pair of wet tweed trousers. This is how we survive the harsh winters: We go outside, we dress accordingly, and we try to make the winter special: In some way or another we appreciate (some even worship) the white powder. We embrace it in a if-you-can’tbeat-it-join-it-kind of way. Most demographic groups are
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International newspapers have written stories about the Norwegian phenomenon called friluftsliv. It’s all about this: being outdoors, all year round, enjoying nature and all kinds of possible outdoor activities.
heading out the door no matter the temperature. 9 out of 10 Norwegians state that they take part in friluftsliv and outdoor activities, and they are doing it nearly every third day of the year. How do we spend this time? In short, by doing stuff that Norwegians earlier did out of sheer need. Hunting and foraging, transporting ourselves across frozen lakes, fishing through holes in frozen lakes, ice skating on frozen lakes, or just building a fire out of twigs and moss, boiling some coffee or frying a pancake – while watching the frozen lakes. More and more Norwegians are turning to the trend of combining ice bathing with the Finnish tradition of sauna. This means heating your body to maximum temperature in a little wood fired shed, before finding the nearest hole in a frozen lake or fjord and skinny dipping there, and then repeating the ritual for as long as you like. Of course, lately, not without documenting the whole thing on social media. The preferred hashtag being #lifeisbestoutside.
According to PhD-research done by Alf Odden, the content of this friluftsliv has been transforming during the last couple of decades. The activities are getting more and more diverse and specialized. More extreme sports, more down hill than cross-country skiing, more kiting, and mountain biking. Less picking mushrooms and berries, less fishing for sports, less logging timber for heating up small cabins. Still, around half of all Norwegians were planning to go skiing the winter of 2021. The other half probably stayed inside watching their ski heroes beating the rest of the world in a sport we invented. The vikings travelled across mountains carrying newborn princes or collecting taxes during the even lonelier and harsher winters of the time. For centuries skiing was a mode of transport and an advantage for soldiers moving far quicker than their enemies in snow covered landscapes. As early as the 18th century the first military skiing competitions were held.
Kjell Withberg drew the first version of the Birkebeiner logo that many people associate with Norrøna today. This painting was inspired by the logo.
Legendary Norwegian skier Ruud Birger (1911 – 1998) makes his winning jump before spectators at the Men’s Ski Jump event during the IV Winter Olympic Games, February 16, 1936, Garmisch-Partenkirchen, Germany.
The local hero Sondre Norheim has been attributed the Inventor of downhill skiing. He won the first ever national skiing competition (and ski jump competition as well) held in Oslo in the 1860s. A few decades later, the sport spread to Europe and to the US, where miners held skiing competitions to entertain themselves during the winter. The world’s oldest ski sports club was founded in 1861, and was called Trysil Skytte- og Skiløberforening (the union of shooters and skiers of Trysil).
“Nature and ski sport became a key symbol for Norway, as nature could be mastered through use of skis – and through mastering, heroes and giants were created.”
During the interwar period, skiing grew to become an activity for the masses, and for the nuclear family. It became not only a vital ingredient of The Happy Childhood, but also an important part of what it means to be Norwegian, as important as brown cheese and trolls. “Nature and ski sport became a key symbol for Norway, as nature could be mastered through use of skis, and through mastering, heroes and giants were created,” writes Gina Stoltenberg Ringerike in her research paper Ut på tur aldri sur – ut på ski alltid blid. (The title borrows a classic idiom
that very loosely, and with an inferior rhyme, translates to “Never be sour, if you’re on a tour.” In her paper Ringerike emphasizes the famous explorers who showed strength courage and moderation, and thus won praise and honour for themselves and the nation, a torch carried on by winter sport athletes. Author Karsten Alnæs has argued that, “in the wake of the great victories our skiers won in international competitions, the national feeling of pride grew. The sport of skiing gathered Norway to one kingdom,” he wrote at the Norwegian Skiing Association’s 100 year anniversary.
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To live in a small cabin – far from the city and close to the mountains. To wake up early, to light the fireplace, to study the map. That’s deeply rooted in the Norwegian ski culture.
Ski mountaineering is more and more popular in Norway: to make your own way to the summit, without any ski lifts, and give yourself the pleasure of skiing down in untouched snow. And afterwards: enjoying a beer in the jacuzzi.
It is however, not only the long winters and the skiing heroes that have made winter culture. Also several school holidays during the winter season, including a week of “winter holiday” and almost two weeks of Easter holiday has been essential for developing the traditions and rituals of Norwegian winter. The latter is often combined with excessive crime novel reading, lamb roast eating and lazy cross-country tours on often rather inferior skiing conditions. A lot of us spend these holidays in our hytte, a cabin that for decades meant a small simple cabin located far from electricity, aprés-ski and Wi-Fi. It was a place where skiing technique, outdoor survival skills and family rules for the dice game of Yahtzee were transferred from one generation to the next. It has been a place to nurture the Scandinavian concept of hygge that includes lots of open fires, woollen blankets and hot chocolate.
The general wealth of Norwegians has also made it possible to import the continental alpine culture, in all its colourful facets. The oil economy has changed the once austere Norwegian ski culture.
Meeting your colleagues after a weekend telling them that you have been to your hytte, most of them know what you mean. No matter how big or where it is located.
Today winter season for many means the ability to dance barechested on top of thick wooden tables, with your alpine boots on, chanting to the latest after-ski evergreen, soaking wet with sweat and Jaegermeister shots. Simultaneously, the latest outdoor trends have caught on with the snow addicted Norwegians. A lot of us are picking up the ski sails of the old explorers, of course upping the game with playful kites on frozen lakes. “Hytte is a word that holds a set of specific cultural connotations, and that refers to a practice that has been very important in building the nation and the politics of identity,” writes anthropologist Marianne E. Lien in her recent book Hytta – fire vegger rundt en drøm (the title translates to Four Walls Around a Dream).
Almost all year around you can see steady streams of people zigzagging up the steepest hills with feather light ski touring equipment, reaching one of our endless supply of mountain tops, in order to catch powder conditions reaching the bottom by the fjord.
Come summer, we secretly long for the crisp sound of stepping onto newly fallen snow. The northern winter coolness will never leave our deeply frozen Norwegian souls.
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Deep Into Lyngen
North of the Ordinary
Our ambassador Nikolai Schirmer has documented more ski tours on the Lyngen peninsula than we can count. We asked him why this mountainous strip of land in the Northern-Norwegian sea still holds a special place on his ski bucket list after 17 years of exploration. Text: Nikolai Schirmer Photo: Anders Møller Vestergård and Krister Kopala
We would build jumps on the little rolling hills by the seaside. A long inrun with two tracks leading straight to the flat take-off, marked by a twig on each side, a miniature version of the massive ski jump ramps that people still cared about back then, in the ’90s. If you were skiing back then you were normally trying to go as fast as possible on a man made track, or trying to jump as far as possible on a man made ramp. Skiing in virgin snow was done in low leather boots, which naturally limited the terrain you could access with grace. The soaring peaks beyond the hills were like the backdrop at a play, pretty to look at but not something we interacted with. I was like a short person at a standing concert, thinking the experience was about being stuck in a crowd, hearing muffled music from beyond the mass of bodies, unable to lift my gaze to actually see the stage, still quite content and making the most of it. I find that so interesting, how your sensitivity to the world depends on its utility to you.
The Sami people of Lyngen knew exactly what terrain they needed to feed their herds of reindeer. The fishermen knew which bays provided shelter, which shallows provided cod. I didn’t realize I needed the vast glacier plateaus, the alpine ridges, the endless rows of couloirs, the spine lines and the powder filled flanks. I had no clue as to the significance of the way the massive mountain range stopped the weather moving in from the west, providing world class skiing from September to June. I didn’t know the 90km of jagged peaks that make up the Lyngen peninsula were for anything. Then technology happened. Modern lightweight gear providing protection from the elements and enough support to access the steepest of slopes. Today, the magnetism of Lyngen is irresistible for anyone who has experienced the joy of gliding through snow. Skiers walking uphill on gear performing on par with the stuff pioneers like Seth Morrison needed helicopters to carry up the mountains.
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“Today, the magnetism of Lyngen is irresistible for anyone who has experienced the joy of gliding through snow.”
Above: Skiing in Lyngen is all about this: great mountains, great snow and a fjord deep down.
Maybe Seth would’ve thought twice about letting the jet fuelled roar of the helicopter disturb his snack break on Trollvasstindane if he knew he could’ve hiked up in shell jackets and pants weighing less than 800gr. Probably not. Seth seemed more focused on sending the loftiest backflips the peninsula has seen than what ambient sounds accompanied his vistas.
Lyngen has plenty of peaks suitable for today’s novice ski tourer, age 13 or 63. Russelvfjellet on the northernmost end, Golsavarri smack in the middle and Rassevarri marking the southern border. All close to the road, fairly simple in terms of avalanche terrain, and breathtaking in scenery and in the way the light snow fills your mouth if you attempt a breath mid-turn on a deep day.
To most people though, a huge part of what makes Lyngen fun is the feeling of adventure brought on by making your own way up the peaks beyond the hills that rise from the sea. I got my first touring skis the winter I turned 13. A pair of park skis, mounted with a flimsy frame binding that had a bad habit of switching to touring mode mid-air, giving me the task of taking to the air on alpine skis and trying to land half a pair of free heel telemark skis. I sometimes encounter today’s novice ski tourer who got into it post gear revolution, and I try to hide my old jealous stares behind photochromatic lenses as I watch them effortlessly gliding up the mountain with gear that simply works.
I really didn’t get it until I saw the heart of the peninsula though. Or one of the hearts I suppose. From Sydbreen in the south to Gamvikblåisen in the north, a series of glaciated plateaus create colder microclimate zones, seemingly sucking snow out of thin air. Because of the way the steep slopes of the surrounding peaks gently flatten out onto the glaciers, this is the the safest kind of terrain to ski soft snow in terrain steeper than 30 degrees. No trees, gulleys or other terrain traps to entomb you if an avalanche were to happen. Let’s leave the great white shark of the mountains aside though, and instead focus on the prizes on offer: Lenangstindan, Lakselvtindan,
Right: Norrøna-ambassador Nikolai Schirmer skiing in Lyngen – one of his favourite playgrounds.
Norrøna Magazine The Deep Issue
Above: Fjord. Summit. Fjord. Repeat. That’s skiing in Lyngen.
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Right: The mountains in the Lyngen Alps inspired Norrøna’s own collection for ski mountaineering. The name of this collection had to be “lyngen.”
Jægervasstindan, Vaggastindan. The royalty of the peninsula. Elevated. Cherished. Feared. In the grand scheme of mountains though – not all that impressive, unless you understand how to really look at them. My friend who recently started ski touring visited me on my last stay in Lyngen. He would start every ski tour by asking me how tall of a peak we were about to climb. I never knew the answer, as elevation had no part in choosing the mission for the day. It’s natural for people to care about size though. It’s the most readily quantifiable difference between mountains. It’s hard to meaningfully compare the view as you top out on Anderstinden to that of Aiguille Du Chardonnet, but anyone will understand that the latter is 3824m and the former only 1525 m. To a skier counting meters, the royals of Lyngen would seem pawns. Lyngen’s highest peak only rises 1834 m above sea level. Easily dwarfed by a medium sized Himalayan, Central European or Andean peak.
“Alaska terrain without Alaska bushwacking. All skiing, from summit to shore.”
The world rightly cheered as Hilaree Nelson and Jim Morrison made their way down the Lhotse couloir at 8516 m. Probably the highest couloir ever skied. I have no idea how they managed to breathe, let alone make a turn up there, and I’ll probably never know either. I’m into skiing, not oxygen deprived breathing, and the actual couloir they skied was less than half the size of the aptly named Godmother of All Couloirs in Lyngen. Size does matter, but in my experience the height of a mountain very rarely correlates to the amount of good skiing on it. 1000 m of sustained quality skiing is hard to come by at any elevation, but in Lyngen it just so happens to be the standard. The reason the peaks of Lyngen have such allure is their quintessential Northern-Norwegian quality of cutting through the bullshit and getting straight to the point. Minimal approaches. No cable cars or roads to get up to the good terrain. Alaska terrain without Alaska bushwacking. All skiing, from summit to shore.
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And there’s more than enough of it. I’ve skied the peninsula for 17 years, and I still haven’t crossed the frozen lake of Jægervatnet to climb up the couloir to Store Jægervasstind. I still haven’t made my way up Sydbreen to ride the minigolf lines on the Balgesvarri shoulder. I still haven’t scrambled above the exposure to ride the spire of Urdkjerringa. Maybe this will be the spring that I do. Maybe it will have to wait.
Facts
About Lyngen
The downside of Northern-Norway’s colder climate is that persistent weak layers causing unpredictable avalanche problems have a habit of, well, persisting. Some winters in Lyngen are a free for all rush to the steeps, while others seem more like a game of Russian roulette, where the wise ski tourer dials it back to the less consequential terrain. That’s all part of the fun though. A good day in Lyngen wouldn’t feel like Christmas, your birthday and the first day of vacation if it happened every week.
Population: 2992
Where to eat: The lodges have restaurants with good local food.
How to get there: Catch a train to Narvik, then a bus from there, or fly to Tromsø and rent a car.
Guide companies: Ascent Descent guides.
Where to stay: Lyngen Experience Lodge or Apartments is the place to stay on the northern end. In the middle of the peninsula you can stay at Magic Mountain Lodge. There are also plenty of AirBnB’s
Skiseason: October – June What to do: Cross-country skiing on Jægervatnet, have a look at the world’s ugliest Santa statue hidden in the forest at Lyngseidet (visible from the ferry) and go fishing.
Behind the Seams
Norrøna lyngen
Jørgen Jørgensen – owner and CEO at Norrøna – talks about Norrøna’s collection for ski mountaineering.
Text: Eivind Eidslott Photo: Kari Medig
“Norrøna lyngen is a combination of light weight, durability and packability,” says Jørgen Jørgensen. “Our idea is to give you everything needed for ski mountaineering, without it weighing so much. Norrøna lofoten, on the other hand, is a pure big mountain and freeride collection with all the technical details in place. Of course, the lofoten products work great for ski mountaineering too. But for those who focus on weight, the lyngen collection is a better choice.” What are your thoughts about trends in the international ski culture in the years to come? I absolutely believe that the ski touring trend will continue to grow; both in Norway and internationally. We usually do ski mountaineering at the most beautiful time of the year – in the spring – with fantastic light, green valleys and white mountains.
That’s after we’ve been through the dark winter, and then the spring light comes and generates new energy. Spring skiing offers so many opportunities and people have really started to discover that. Still, I think we’ve only seen the start of the ski touring trend. Many still dream of experiencing the outdoors this way. Have you noticed greater climate awareness among skiers? That many prefer to go skiing under their own power rather than use a lift or other machinery? Yes, there is a much greater awareness of sustainability and green outdoor life today than just a few decades ago. In this new consciousness, ski mountaineering is a natural fit. In addition, many people like the exercise aspect of ski touring. It may be the world’s best form of exercise!
Our most packable
See the collection at norrona.com or find your nearest store at norrona.com/stores
The lyngen collection for ski touring. Pushing the limits of durable lightweight.
Welcome to nature
Norrøna Magazine The Deep Issue
Deep Memories
A Sense of Snow
Text: Eivind Eidslott Illustration: Peter-John de Villiers
If you sit down, today, in this moment, and think about why you love snow – what do you sense? Do you remember when it all started? Were you three-years-old? Was it your father who kept you upright when you clicked into the bindings on a pair of Nordic skis? Or were you 16-years-old and bought your own snowboard, a used one, and took the bus to the girl who sold it and paid cash, with your newspaper carrier money, and went straight to the mountain afterwards? Or did you create your own snow cave when you were little, and borrowed your grandfather’s best shovel, and dug deeper and deeper into the white, and finally you could invite your friends into the dark, in silence, and you sat there, on an old reindeer skin, and ate homemade waffles and drank hot chocolate, in the light from a small flashlight? My story is as simple as a high pressure. I love snow because I was born somewhere with low pressures. They roll in from the ocean, meet the black mountain walls behind the house where I grew up, always showing who’s the boss. I grew up on a weather-beaten coast. The snow can just as easily come in May as in January, and sometimes a whole novel comes, other times only a short sentence comes, and the snow almost never stays. The snow is the restless, talkative guest. The man who does not listen to what you say, but stands with his jacket in his hand. Lecturing. Often I stood in the street, with the skis lying in the grass, and a little boy’s wandering gaze. Where was the snow that was here yesterday? I wanted to glide on skis, but there was nothing to glide on. I wanted to build a small ski jump, but had nothing to build with. I wanted to explore in the winter, but was back in the fall.
Maybe that’s why I love sludge? Sludge can be a warning of fresh snow. Maybe that’s why I love slush? Slush can be proof of good snow conditions further up in the mountains. Maybe that’s why I love wind? The wind can create movements, changes, completely new plans. There is a fjord where I grew up. It divides an entire mountain landscape in two, like the break in a magnificent World Cup final. The fjord ends something and is the beginning of something else. Once, a long time ago, I was on my way inland along this fjord with the skis attached to my backpack. It must have been before commitments. It must have been before I knew what I was going to become. It must have been before anything was decided. I can remember a feeling of freedom so strong that it gave me air under my wings. I was alone. Not because I was lonely, but because I had an all-encompassing and sudden ski tour abstinence. I cycled. Not because I was so sustainable, but because I was not old enough to drive. I sang. Not because I was so good at singing, but because I was happy. Everything was easy. Everything was open. It was all about this: about seeking out mountains. About seeking out snow. A large part of my adult life is about searching for this same feeling. The same simplicity. The same openness. The same expectation. It may be that precisely this condition, this sensitivity, will be impossible to recreate. The consolation – and the magic itself – is this: after each high pressure comes a new low pressure. And the fresh snow always shows the way to new adventures.