Sailboats and Steep Couloirs

The vista from the col reveals the fjord 900 meters below, glowing metallic golden in the waning light. Mt Saksa (1,023 meters) rises above us while below lays a twisting couloir of preserved snow that flushes directly into the fjord where our sailboat awaits us patiently. Pushing off, the snow is boot deep and sloughs quickly, the powder cloud casting a long, skim-lit shadow that billows in the warm light before the next turn falls away steeply into a narrow choke. Squeezing through, the run opens up again and offers fast turns for 500 meters down to a belt of stunted woodland before giving way to the rocky shore of Hjørundfjorden.

Slashing to a stop, spray scatters in the water, melting like the last rays of sun being obscured by the mountains stacked defiantly on the western shore of the fjord. The rowboat strokes toward us quietly and delivers us to the sailboat. A mixture of serenity and exhilaration permeates the group as we motor home for the evening. Our group consists of freeskiers Chris Rubens, Greg Hill and Andreas Fransson. Documenting the adventure are photographer Mattias Fredriksson, filmer Jeff Thomas and myself. Our captain is the most agreeable Arne Fagerhaug, a 57-year-old Norwegian. Born in Ålesund, he has been on boats since childhood and claims to have been "conceived in the mountains at the ski cabin in Hjørundfjorden. That is what my father told me."

Aboard the Maud of Ålesund, a 17-meter wooden fishing vessel built in 1917 converted to a ski and sail vessel, Arne navigates the waters of Hjørundfjorden and delivers us daily to new zones. From here we disembark and put our skins on before climbing the ridges and faces directly above in search of powder, views and a Norwegian alpine experience. Departing from the city of Ålesund two days earlier, we sailed towards Hjørundfjorden in Norway's Sunnmøre Alps. Dramatic, steep faces that stand sentinel and fall directly into the ocean greeted us as we entered its gates.

A long jagged finger that stretches southeast from the Norwegian Sea, Hjørundfjorden revealed itself as a quaint and picturesque inlet that gives way to numerous narrow valleys where villages huddle underneath the towering peaks that demarcate them. It is this topography that makes it ideal for skiing. Many of the surrounding fjords are too steep to hold snow or grant access into the alpine from the waters edge. What is perhaps most significant of the region, however, is the distinct lack of industry. According to Arne, "the only developments in the last 50 years are a new hotel in the village of Sæbø and a new ferry."

A long history of farming sees herds grazing during the summer in the alpine meadows higher up in the valleys that extend into the mountains from the shore. We bear witness to this as we ski tour above the village of Ytre Standal and past two cabins built by farmers in the 1800's. Further on, Svinestinden (1,125 meters) stands regal and invites us to ski its northeast face in good, soft snow under perfectly blue skies. It's March and there's a hint of spring in the air, but the days remain cold and protect the snow. In the afternoon we explore the steep couloirs on Romedalstinden (1,295 meters) that run out into rolling terrain that shifts color like a chameleon as the sun moves past its zenith.

Unclipping from our skis on the dock, we board our boat and sail back across the fjord. Our base for the week is a house in the seemingly deserted hamlet of Trandal. Consisting of perhaps twenty houses, Trandal sits crouched on the eastern shore of the fjord below Hjelledalstindane. There is a pub, but no store and despite the absence of any residents, the ferry comes three times a day. In the summer it hosts three festivals: one for divorcees, a blues festival and finally a country music festival. Foregoing our morning sail the next day, we set off from the house, ski touring along the valley to the east that leads us underneath the impressive walls of Råna (1,586 meters).

A large north facing cirque offers long rocky chutes and spines that the crew lap, making light, fast turns from the jagged ridge above down to the wide meadows below. As the sun makes its arc across another brilliant, blue sky, the cirque drags its shadow steadily across us, and our focus shifts to the northeast face of Hjelledalstindane. A large exposed, planar face broken by a thin band of rocky cliffs, it is somewhat intimidating. The views of the fjord from there promise to be spectacular and the snow looks good so we head for it. As the palette begins to shift from blues to a warm alpine glow, we boot pack five hundred meters up the face is knee-deep snow still unaffected by any wind.

Below, the fjord lays both resplendent and sobering, its frigid waters plunging equally as deep as we are high. Greg drops in first, skiing long, fluid turns as his powder cloud lingers behind him, glimmering in the sun. As the colors turn yet more pink, Chris and Andreas make similar turns, soaking in the atmosphere and view with every turn. For dinner that night we feast on fish caught from the fjord just beyond our balcony. Halibut, salmon and monkfish, cooked with little fanfare, allowing the flavors of the ocean to come through. The day's adventures are washed down with a delicious local beer, Slogen, named for the iconic peak at the head of the fjord further south.

Tired legs from continuous days spent ski touring dictate that the next day is reserved for fishing. Casting hooks into mirror-flat waters from the boat and with views towards Slogen, conversation turns to potentially venturing up the mountain in the coming days. Thoughts of skiing are quickly cast aside though as Greg lands a Sei fish. It's too small to keep so he throws it back. Jeff hooks a two-kilogram lange and Arne abruptly cleans it and proceeds to boil it in saltwater, serving it to us not twenty minutes later. The fish falls apart with only a fork and tastes amazing. The final day of our trip we skin up one last time for the long hike to the top of Slogen (1,564 meters).

Described as the "Matterhorn of Norway", we reach the summit shortly after lunch and are joined by a steady stream of Norwegians on an assortment of Nordic and alpine touring setups. Atop the peak, we each open a beer and toast its namesake along with new friends, good food and an authentic Norwegian ski experience.