A Canadian in Sweden

Olles spår

We finally got a bit of snow last night. Perhaps 5 cm, certainly no more than 10 cm. When I checked the local ski track condition website, I was surprised to see that Olles spår was listed as being open.

Olles spår literally means "Olle's track". It is a fixture on the local ski scene. Olle is some old dude who - like many Scandinavians - really likes skiing. No, he really, really likes skiing. So much so that he decided a few decades back that he could build and maintain trails better than the local clubs could. His track has a 14 km loop and a 10 km loop, and it is entirely on his property, entirely maintained by him, and is free to use by anyone who wants. People training for the Vasaloppet often go there to train because the flat terrain is just like the Vasa (or so I am told).

I arrived at Olles spår this morning, skeptical to say the least. There is less than 10 cm of snow on the ground. There is no way you can have a decent trail with less than 10 cm of snow. Unless you cheat and use millions of dollars of public funds to build a refrigerated track and artificial snow, like at Nydala. However, skiing the exact same trail since the beginning of Novemeber has made me a bit desperate, and I was willing to at least go see what magic Olle had allegedly worked.

It turns out that Olle has invented some kind of sled that he pulls behind his rickity skidoo that gently scrapes the top few cm of snow from the sides of the trail and deposits them in the middle, making a nice pile of snow 30 cm deep. Then he goes around on his skidoo again, with a standard track setter, putting in a perfect trail in the pile of snow. Amazing.

So I head out, pleased beyond all reason because I can finally ski on another trail, and... I run into Olle himself. Our conversation went thusly:

Me; Hej! Ar du Olle? (hi! are you Olle?)

Olle; Jag! Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah... (in very fast Swedish)

Me (with vacant, hunted look in eyes); Uhhh... Jag taler liten svenska... (uh, I don't speak much Swedish)

Olle (totally undiscouraged); Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah? (again, in very fast Swedish, and now waiting for a response)

Me; Uhhh..Jag heter Jeff? Jag kommer frän Kanada? (Uh, my name is Jeff? I´m from Canada?)

Olle thought this was hilarious. He is a friendly old dude, that is for sure. Over the next 3 hours, I ran into him a few other times as he puttered around his track, removing branches or scooping snow onto bare spots. Every time he saw me, he started to laugh and would say something I couldn't even begin to decipher, so I would yell "Jag kommer frän Kanada!" as I skied by, which would crack him up even more.

I wish there were more guys like Olle out there.

posted by Jeff @ 8:57 AM