
Bursting through the curtain of snow is a great big tree, and it's heading straight for me. I've lost control of my sled, and as it roars on, leaving snow swirling in the bitter draft, a thought hits me harder than the piece of magical terrain I'm supposed to be travelling across – why am I doing this?
I was meant to be heading for Masi in Norway, sledging with six wannabe mushers and fifty huskies. On day one, we learned how to negotiate a sled through some of the most exceptional terrain in the world, just three hundred miles from the Arctic Circle. I hadn't been listening. It wasn't the first time I'd fallen.
Covering the mountain range of Beskades to Suolovuobme, I foolishly refused to use my brakes. I took a tumble, but the dogs kept running, relieved to have lost the heavy burden on their sprightly shoulders, enjoying the freedom and fantastic scenery without me.
My guide wasn't far behind. Here was a man less than six feet in height but with the chest and limbs of Action Man. He told me to jump on his sled so his six powerful dogs could chase my five.
I had been catapulted into my own western. We charged across the snow, weaving left and right, a shift in gears taking us ever closer to the outlaws. Struggling to find my footing on his sled, we overtook the surprised fugitives with some verve, so I aimed a cocky smile towards them before leaping off and somehow catching my sled as it passed. My smugness wouldn’t last.
On day two, I hit the tree head-on. It must have knocked some sense into me because that would be the last time I came a cropper. The dogs have this fantastic look as you walk shamefully toward them to retrieve your sled – unmistakable grins as yet another sucker has been picked off.
On day three, we travelled from Masi to Nedre Mollišjok, covering 35 km through reindeer country. We were warned that extra care had to be taken to prevent the dogs from chasing after them. My posse had enough trouble chasing after the other teams, let alone reindeer. The thought of seeing these animals after devouring them the night before in a delectable stew gave me a guilty conscience.
The cold, meanwhile, gave me a headache. Temperatures hit minus forty as a brutal wind attacked us from the right. It was the most challenging day. I tried to keep my face from protruding into the cold, from touching my balaclava and neck guard that had long since frozen solid. I wanted to stop, curl up into a ball and let the snow finish me off, but the dogs I had been cursing for the last two hours guided me to our sanctuary, and I would never show frustration with these resilient animals again.
From Nedre Mollišjok to Jotka and onwards to Detsika, I witnessed some of the starkest and most stunning landscapes I may ever see. Descending through the magical forests on the final day of sledding was what this trip was all about, and we were lucky to have the sunshine to complement our surroundings.
It was still well into minus figures (alarmingly, Norwegians never say minus), but after the vicious winds on day three, I was tempted to whip out my Speedos and raise my middle digit to the elements.
The journey had taken its toll. On the final day, some teams struggled to climb the many heights confronting us. With other sleds floundering, I waited impatiently at the bottom of each climb.
It was here that Action Man told me to disembark my sled and race my dogs to the top of the snowy mound. I will never forget their disapproving faces as I galloped past them – revenge for all the defecation I had the pleasure to witness.
We had arrived at Alta, rewarding ourselves with a drink at the legendary Ice Hotel. Ice sculptures lit by fibreoptics and candles bewitched. The modest rooms were inviting, despite temperatures staying minus 7 degrees until every spring when the hotel melts and runs into the Alta River.
I wish I could say the same for the Aurora Borealis. Sadly, regardless of two apparent sightings the week before, we were only treated to a slither of green here or there. And yet, not witnessing this spectacle in its full glory has given me the perfect reason to one day return to Norway. As if I needed an excuse.
Comments