One lesson I have learned during my two and a half months here in Norway is to never underestimate Norway and her weather.

I opted to join the Germans of 201 for this trip. They graciously welcomed me, and I was eager to get better acquainted with them. To plan our ski trip, we first had a meeting to evaluate what winter trails and routes we had at our disposal—skiing was a must. There was a consensus among us all that practicing skiing with our large rucksacks would be beneficial for our snow hole trip that would be happening weeks later. We each perused the websites shown to us by Len that allowed us to check the weather, assess avalanche risk, and plan the essential escape plan. Our initial route was settled on at our second meeting and our ski tour was set to be near Aadneram, small village in the Northwest corner of the Agder region.

The six of us were later bombarded with Norway’s tenacious conditions and climate and forced to revise our entire plans. We relocated to Ljosland, a village Southeast of our original choice, and planned a route that was fortunately on groomed tracks entirely. This was later shown to be a quality choice as other groups ended up suffering in the horrible off-piste snow conditions of the week. With printed maps, compasses, and ambition in our tool belts, we set off for the skisenter parking lot of Ljosland.

Day 1

On Sunday morning, we set out in two cars and tackled the two-hour drive to Ljosland. After struggling to find the ideal place to park, we found one near the trailhead we hopped to start at. We grabbed our pre-packed rucksacks and skis and trudged to our demise…not really, but kind of. Another lesson learned was to always heed the advice of the locals. Tim had advised us to buy and use Klister on our skis and noted we would have a difficult time on the snow there without it. He was right. I cannot imagine how hilarious we looked to those passing by, barely keeping ourselves up as we went down and taking millenniums to herringbone up. I would like to say we made it farther than we did, but after calculating the distance it was revealed we made it a mere 1.5 kilometers over the afternoon. Nonetheless, everyone in the group kept their spirits high through laughing at ourselves.

The next challenge of the day was yet another task we had never attempted: setting up a tent in the snow. Deliberation began about whether we should dig to the ground below or pitch the tent on the snow. After a quick discussion, everyone agreed digging would take far too much time and energy and we proceeded to stomp out a platform big enough for the two tents with our skis on. We struggled with walking in the weak snow and after the process, it appeared as though a bunch of gophers had surrounded our camp. Nevertheless, we managed to put up camp with limited disputes and proceeded to make a pasta dinner. With our bellies full and optimism only slightly diminished, we crawled into our tents at a ripe and early time of six o’clock.

Day 2

With an early night of sleep and staying in until the sun arose, we were all well-fueled for the worst possible day ahead. A hearty breakfast, quick tent take-down, and repacking and we were off! Nico discovered we could cake the red wax on our skis and not use the cork which would allow us to kind of grip the snow beneath our skis. With that discovery, our optimism for the day was much higher than the first day—it should not have been with the visibility we had (or lacked in better terms).

As we proceeded along the track, we were only able to see a mere 10 meters in front of ourselves, if that. Our heavy, and now wet packs weighed us down, but our spirits were high. I began to understand the dynamics of the 201 Germans and admired their ability to entertain one another while also being supportive. There was constant swapping of who took the lead, and someone always volunteered to bring up the rear. It was as pleasant of a trek as it could be in the circumstance—until we lost Toni.

Elli and I shouted to her as she had gone ahead to find the next checkpoint we anticipated. No response. Roman and Nico were busy behind us helping Anna down the steepest hill any of us had encountered on cross country skis. I noted to Elli we need to start staying together in these conditions or at least in the visible range of one another, which was not far whatsoever. She agreed and encouraged us to move forward to ensure Toni was alright and we quickly began to hear her shouting and come into view. While we waited for the other half, the three of us scoured our maps for the intersection we were at, because our chosen route did not have an intersection like this. After a thorough discussion, we decided we had missed the track we should have turned onto and proceeded to trek back up the horrendous hill we had just ascended. After still not finding our track, we opted to talk to some locals that likely knew the system of trails far better than us. The couple took us back to just before the big hill and ultimately said they too were unable to navigate well in the whiteout conditions. Being back to square one, we turned around and went back to our first turn to reorientate ourselves.

Eventually, we nailed down that we were at the wrong turn and proceeded to continue backtracking to where our trail should appear. Me, Elli, and Anna took the lead, but the visibility was so poor still that we missed the turn again! Luckily, Nico was able to catch it and yell down to us. Now on track, we proceeded with a collective hope of making up the many hours we had just lost going back and forth multiple times. We made it to our first, and only checkpoint with the visibility—the DNT hut. Nico and I cleared the doorway which had snow blown up on it a third of the way and everyone took turns peering inside. At this point we all felt a sense a relief that was palpable and took time to eat a late lunch. We then continued to trudge on, aiming to complete our original plans despite the setback.

I was maintaining my calm throughout the day, but definitely on edge from the series of setbacks. Being off schedule, unable to see, and rapidly losing daylight held me on the brink of my nerves. Everything inside me imploded as soon as my water bottle slid down a hill, I had just finished herringboning all the way up. I did what I had to do and retrieved the bottle, but as soon as I repeated my climb I broke down. It was utterly visible that I was upset and descending into an anxiety attack. Anna and Elli stopped the rest of the group and began helping me. The other five were extremely receptive and reassured me that they are adaptive and willing to adjust to what individuals need—emphasizing the one group mentality. I drew my panic to a close and asserted we should continue.

We progressed a bit farther until Elli made a realization: we had no way of securely identifying where we were. This raised big safety concerns as we understood that we would not be able to tell if we were pitching our tent at the base of a steep slope and with the avalanche danger level at the time, that was downright dumb to guess. Us ladies called Roman and Nico back to let them know our concerns and they whole-heartedly agreed it was in our best interest to turn back and camp near the DNT hut. That way we knew for certain the terrain we were sleeping on and around.

Day 3

The sound of skis on the tracks woke us up and we emerged from our icy tents to the view we could not see the day before. Our second night out was as wet as the first, but just slightly more frozen. All of us were overjoyed at the landscapes we could now see, it was beautiful! Sadly, with dwindling resources, wet everything, and a frozen tent we had to make our way back to the trailhead as planned. We repacked our gear, made breakfast, and took a group picture. Elli graciously waxed up everyone’s skis and we headed out. These kind of unexpected acts of generosity were so abundant in this group and it was evident the group dynamic was nailed down through previous relationships and open hearts.

We took our time trekking back to take in the views we missed out on the previous two days, especially because we did not go necessarily far. Smiles abounded as we stand on our skis confidently at this point and focused on enjoying the ride down the hills. The entire trip was purely experiential learning with a bit of guidance—and I wouldn’t have had it any other way! Sometimes, learning the hard way is the absolute best way.