Siri Wigdel

As we came through our last tunnel (having lost track of how many dark tunnels we had been through by now) Haukeli mountain lodge comes up really suddenly, and you pull into it quite sharply, as its just off the main road. I think Mr.Jones was pleasantly surprised, I think he had visualised something a bit more rustic. It has definitely been refurbished since I last stopped over one late Easter many decades ago, when I got stuck in a snow storm and had to wait for convoy traffic lead by the snow plough before being allowed to leave the place. I was hoping for a less dramatic visit this time.

I was aware that it was over 10 years since Mr.Jones had last had a pair of cross-country skiis on his feet, and with a bad chest, I didn’t want to push it. But when checking in with the friendly staff, he seemed as keen as me when they told us that a 24 hour hire of mountain skiis, complete with boots and sticks was only going to cost 300 N.Kr (about £30) each, which for us on our budget was reasonable. In order to make the most of it,  we thought it would be wise to try and get a short trip in before dinner that evening.
We quickly settled into our room,  in the basement of the old stabbur (old traditional wooden food barn) building next door, which was fantastic as it offered us the chance to literally strap our skiis on outside our own door. 

Mr.Jones had a small debate with the staff about the safety of skiing across the frozen lake below the hotel, and even though they reassured him that a car could drive on it, he was still not convinced. (The Welshman’s caution at all things wintery was coming out, and I was beginning to regret the whole adventure before it had even begun).

We were handed our equipment, with nice fitting non-rubbing boots and once dressed in all the layers we had brought, set off from outside our own door. We hadn’t gone more than 5 metres before Mr.Jones’ first fall (first of 5 I think, although I tried not to count them too obviously). I had promised myself not to laugh, but it is quite difficult when you see a big grown man on his back in a strange position, with sticks and skiis pointing in all directions. Luckily he seemed to find it quite funny too….

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​I had to agree that the first part of skiing at the Haukeli small track is quite cruel as you have to first go downhill to get down to the flat bit, which is on the lake below. I tried to recall how I had taught the children when they were young. The trick is to lower your centre of gravity and have a nice bend in the knees at the same time as gliding on each step. But when you fall, it is of course quite difficult to get back up again. Luckily there was no one else around and Mr.Jones was taking it all in his stride and with good humour. We did joke, that maybe the staff say “quick, there’s another Brit learning to ski” and how they probably get a pair of binoculars out and sit down with their cup of coffee at the window to have a laugh. We shared this with them later to great laughter and they suggested that its a party game and they sit down to bet how many times someone will fall over. This suggests that the rest of the time there is quite boring perhaps?

Anyway, by the end of this tall tale of skiing, I have to say the trip was a success, thanks to Mr.Jones’ sporty attempt at trying new things and not worrying about making a fool of himself. True to the talented actor he is, this was just another skill to master. I am delighted to say, this will not be the last time we go skiing. Thank you to Haukeliseter Fjellstue for a wonderful, warm and welcoming stay. The real highlight for me was being able to introduce my lovely Welshman to one of my favorite places and activities. One of the most wonderous moments was being able to enjoy the slow twiligh zone towards dusk, after dinner, this lasted nearly two hours, with the light gradually fading through varying shades of pink and greyish purple. We will be back.