Sweden

SWEDISH WINTER SPORTS

Never have more English ski runners visited Switzerland or shown greater excellence in winter sports than during the last two or three years, and all those who like myself have tasted the joys of Davos or Pontresina will hardly cavil at either the exodus or the proficiency attained, sun and sport together forming a combination that is not only conducive to boisterous health, but very likely to restore that contentment of mind which any prolonged experience of an English winter usually causes you to lose utterly. That those who have means, leisure, and robustness should take up ski-ing is not, therefore, any more surprising than that Switzerland should enjoy the reputation of being the homeland of winter sports, the secret of Swiss supremacy lying as much in efficient organisation and propaganda as in natural attractions. But Switzerland has many serious rivals which all ski runners should make a point of visiting, and Sweden in particular possesses many excellent winter sport resorts in which good ski-ing can be practised much as it is done in the Alps, though the visitor should not expect to find there the material comforts, hotels de luxe, and even the funiculars that are so characteristic of Switzerland. The country will commend itself, however, to all those who have a craving for novelty and change, and any ski runner who visits it will not only come into touch with the greatest exponents of the art, but will obtain an insight into certain forms and schools of ski-ing that demand just as specialised a technique as those which he will have studied in the Alps.

There are three great centres of winter sport in Sweden: Rättvik in Dalecarlia, Stockholm and Åre in Jämtland, each with its own distinctive variant of winter sport; and I had far rather spend a winter in any of these three than in either Davos or St. Moritz. This may seem to argue a certain inexpertness on skis which I would be the last to deny, but your master of the Cresta run would be a mere novice at Rättvik.

Through the country roads, leaving the furrows of their skis in the snow of shallow dales and gently sloping plateaux—furrows which vanish into the pine woods on the hills or wind among the silver-boled birches fringing the frozen lake of Siljan—a multitude of men, women, and children are swiftly gliding. Some are using their skis for the utilitarian purpose of getting from place to place, but many of them are making lengthy ski tours across country or through the forests; and the gaiety and spontaneous enjoyment of each little party is one of the most exhilarating things that I have ever witnessed. One of the pleasantest memories which I retain of Sweden undoubtedly centres round a particular cross-country ski-ing expedition to which I was invited by some Swedish friends during my stay in Rättvik this winter, of which I will now proceed to give a description. On joining the party of some dozen men and women, all in male attire, I was surprised to see horse sleighs, but I supposed that these would go ahead and wait for us at some rendezvous.

My experience on skis at Davos and Pontresina had made me somewhat contemptuous of the use of sticks—of course every one had a stick in each hand—I had thought of them merely as supports; but as soon as we moved off, I found I had a great deal to learn. Before we had reached the end of the drive of my host’s house, I had realised that the use of sticks is an art in itself.

The skiers started off using their sticks in a way that reminded me of punting; and though the horses set off at a brisk trot, several of the more energetic young people shot ahead on their skis, leaving the sledges behind. I toiled painfully in the rear, my host and a fair Swedish girl who spoke English politely keeping me company. I was particularly mortified when my host’s daughter, aged ten, shot blithely alongside one of the horse-drawn sledges.

I could see across the immense ice sheet of Lake Siljan, fringed with silver-stemmed birches, as we made our way down the drive, but when we came out into the road at the end, we turned away from it into the pine forest. The sleighs were by this time out of sight, the sound of their bells had faded on the frosty air; and we followed over the deep snow carpet, beside their trails.

My calves and ankles were already beginning to ache, and I was as far as ever from using my sticks properly; the pace was very slow. It was so slow indeed that my host, with charming courtesy, asked if ski-ing was new to me, and in the same breath complimented me on picking up the art so quickly. I alluded casually to the ski runs at Pontresina, but I am afraid my host was not impressed. The fact is that cross-country ski-ing is as difficult to master as ski-ing down hill, and that whereas the average Swiss trained ski runner is averse to using his sticks and proud of being able to control his skis without their use, the Swedes have raised the science of using sticks to a fine art. Cross-country ski-ing, as it is practised in Sweden, would of course be an impossibility in Switzerland, which accounts, I fancy, for the rudimentary knowledge which the Swiss skiers often display of the manner in which sticks should be used, and also for their consequent condemnation of them. The speed at which Swedes travel on the level with the help of their sticks is amazing, and I noticed time after time skiers who could keep pace with a horse trotting at fair speed.

Fortunately for me, a horse-drawn sledge had started late, and my host, seeing my exhausted condition, shouted a few words as it swept up beside us. I was intensely relieved to exchange my skis for a seat, or rather a couch in the sledge. In this position I made much better speed, while my host swept forward with the sledge’s previous occupants, the girl who spoke English keeping me company, to rejoin the party before us.

I was now in a position to appreciate half the joy of cross-country ski-ing, my previous efforts having blinded me to the surrounding scenery. The snow-laden trees between which we were gliding assumed the most fanciful shapes. There were aisles leading into mysterious caverns, where the olive of the pines mingled with the virgin whiteness and blue transparency of the snow. Bushes took on the shapes of prehistoric monsters, glades of small trees became an eerie army of ghosts; there must have been goblins and sprites....

When we arrived at the log-built house that was our destination, there was glögg served steaming hot ... and it was nectar.

But ski-ing across country is not by any means the only winter sport of Dalecarlia, for besides tolkning or being towed on skis behind a horse or its sledge, there are good toboggan runs and ski jumps on fairly steep country; and for the lazily inclined long-distance drives in horse-drawn sledges such as I have described, through forest glades of enchanting beauty. Of all these delights, however, there is none to compare with cross-country ski tours; and I should certainly prefer them to the pastime of one Swedish ski runner who for a wager was towed on skis behind the train from Rättvik to the next station ... and arrived intact.

Åre combines the fascination of Swedish winter sports with the thrill peculiar to the Swiss; and while the surrounding country is almost as suitable for cross-country ski-ing as Dalecarlia, it possesses the additional advantage of enabling the winter sport enthusiast to practise almost every variant of ski-ing and winter game. At Storlien, Snasahögarna, and Merakar, there are gradients of every kind, the steepest of these rivalling those of Davos. Åre in certain respects recalls Swiss resorts. Like Davos, it is situated in a mountainous country with high mountain tops in the immediate vicinity. From the lake at the base of Mount Åreskutan (4600 feet) a funicular railway runs up 600 feet, and from this point a bobsleigh run three-quarters of a mile long, with curves as sharp as those of the Cresta, winds down to the hotels below. There are slopes here for every taste: rounded hills, steep slopes, and the famous Tännforsen waterfall, one of the finest in Europe, all within easy distance.

Wandering about here I came upon a lovely place: before me a sheet of ice opened into a broad white field, hard and dry, forming a majestic causeway paved as with white marble. It was evening, and in those solitudes were caverns of deep blue ice lit with the twilight’s after-glow; in the distance, mountains, sombre with pines or glittering white with snow, raised gleaming turrets and dark pyramids up to the smoke-blue sky.

Stockholm lacks nothing. Within forty-five minutes’ walk is the famous jumping course of Fiskartorpet and the ski and toboggan runs of Saltsjöbaden in the Stockholm Archipelago, while the winter-sport enthusiast will find at Djursholm, and within easy distance of the capital, two variants of winter sports that are particularly indigenous to the soil and unknown to other countries. The Ice Yachting and Skate Sailing clubs are located in a greatly indented and island dotted bay, where even the most blasé winter-sport enthusiast may reckon to regain some of the lost thrills of his novitiate. There he may cling to the stern sheets of an ice-boat, heeling over to the sea breeze and driving along at 50 knots an hour, while a fearless Swedish girl sits astride the stern and laughs at the tiller, with the main sheet in one hand, and another leans out to windward as she tends the fore sheet.

Ice-yachting has its risks, but the novice learns the art by starting as a passenger, or at least by obeying orders at the fore sheet. Skate-sailing is like a leap in the dark: there can be no passenger on one pair of skates. Armed with ice-pole and life-line, the skier sets forth on his maiden voyage clinging to an unmanageable kite-shaped sail, while he tries to use his body as a mast, at the mercy of the elements.

The great difficulty lies, of course, in trimming the sail to the wind, and I found that the best way to learn was by practising sailing to windward, tacking. The yard, which stretches from the apex of the kite to its truncated tail, is held over the left shoulder, the right arm extending backwards till the hand grips the yard, the left hand holding on to one of the two cross-pieces. To trim the sail the yard must be pushed forward or backward across the shoulder, just as you trim a boat by increasing the area of the foresail to the wind. When the wind blows the sail round, it must be pushed back until the weight is behind, and the foretip of the yard must be held down to prevent it slipping off. When a gust blows aslant, filling the sail, you must drive to windward till the sail flies into the wind.

This sport requires great physical strength and prompt judgment. The expert skate sailors whom I watched attained speeds approaching those of the ice yachts; but to reach such a state of perfection a man must be in the finest physical condition and have tendons and muscles of the ankles greatly strengthened by constant practice of such figures as the Salchow rocking turn.

I do not think I would have attempted this sport if there had been much wind; but throughout my stay in Stockholm there was the usual dry sunny weather with only the lightest of breezes. Of all winter sports skate-sailing is perhaps the most exhilarating, and if once a skier masters its technique, he will probably end by preferring it to any other form of winter sport.