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Written by Brian Olsen
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Friday, 04 November 2005 00:00 |
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Location: Geilo, NOR
The rollerski loop in Fort Kent is about 1.2 kilometers long. That makes for 27 laps during a two-hour, easy classic rollerski session. The loop of man-made snow here in Geilo? 800 meters, though that might be a little too confident. Number of laps in yesterday’s three-hour skate ski session? Sixty.
With a (vintage waxless classic) ski in each hand, I walked up the road to Havsdalen (1000m), which is a few hundred meters higher than Geilo (800m), in search of snow the first day I was here. I hoped with every step of the way that the altitude would make a difference and everything would be white, just like last year. A few cars passed me going down the hill. Some of the drivers had awkward looks on the faces, seeing my skis. Still I walked.
In the distance, I could see Havsdalshovda, which is higher than Havsdalen (1150m) itself. It was bare, all brown, no snow. For some reason, my mental training kicked in and I remained positive, still walking up the hill. The temperature was 45 degrees Fahrenheit, but still I walked.
I kept walking all the way up the road, to where it turns to dirt. The mountains that border Hasvdalen – dalen means valley – were bare, but I kept walking. Finally, I reached the trailhead for what was, in my mind, going to be a perfectly groomed ski trail, about two meters wide, surrounded by all of the brush, still green from the warm fall. Unfortunately, imagery does not always work for things you cannot control. The trail was bare. There would be no skiing.
Demoralized to the point of speechlessness, I set my skis against the trail sign and tried to make a plan. I looked around slowly, full 360-degree turn, as if maybe the snow was hiding behind me, playing a game. (After all, it was still Halloween in Hawaii.) Nothing. I painfully started thinking about the rollerskis that I duly packed. Still not fully comprehending the situation, I grabbed my skis and walked with confidence down the hill. (When things are going badly, try to at least look like things are going according to plan.)
From the train the night before, I saw that there was snow on the ski trails in town. So I walked down the hill towards them. My eyes opened wide when I saw that the trail was covered in snow. I quickly jumped into my bindings – since they are the vintage click-in ones – and started skiing. In less than three minutes, I was back where I started after having skied around the entire loop.
The weather forecast does not look promising. Though the forecasters tried to predict snow, they simply could not fudge the fact that the temperatures are well above freezing. A low-pressure system is sending air direct from Angola, or somewhere in Africa, to the cold-loving, northern peoples of Scandinavia. The reindeer must be awfully confused with this weather. I know I am. Tomorrow, I only have to do 40 laps.
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