Sweden's winter wonderland

Despite Hell freezing over, lost luggage and painful boots, Ivy Broadhead found that a weekend of skiing, skating and dog-sledding in Sweden was the perfect way to escape the stress of exams

When my dad pitched the idea of a March trip to Sweden to visit old friends, I jumped at the chance: snow, skiing, skating, and generally an escape from university deadlines and exam stress.

A few months later, I was beginning to question my wisdom. To briefly summarise the trauma of our journey to Sweden: a 4am start, only to be bumped off our flights at Schipol airport, followed by lost luggage and running through security to catch an entirely unnecessary flight to Oslo. We were finally reunited with our suitcases at Trondheim and rushed to Hell station to catch a train into Sweden, to find that not only had Hell frozen over, but it had done so without providing a waiting-room, and with over an hour’s wait for the next (inaccessible) train. We arrived in Järpen, northern Sweden, tired, cold and fraught, but miraculously still complete with luggage. Having got off to such a bad start, the rest of the weekend ran remarkably smoothly.

Since neither of us had so much as looked at a pair of skis before, on Saturday we decided to start out on familiar territory, with ice skating. But not just on a little indoor rink, you understand.

During the cold winter months, many of Sweden’s lakes freeze over completely, making them a playground for skating and other winter sports, so we headed to the Östersund Vinterpark to get our skates on. We weren’t alone; the Swedes are an outdoorsy bunch it seems, and everyone was out enjoying the beautiful scenery. Men, women, children, older people taking it easy on kick-sledges, others on skates letting their dogs do the work, wheelchair-users, even tiny babies pulled along on sledges or strapped to mums and dads.

Given my low centre of gravity, ice-skating has always come quite naturally to me, but skating outside on a frozen lake is a very different beast from what’s on offer in the UK. For one, the skates were much more comfortable, although they did come with long, detachable blades that snapped onto the front of your skates, which took a little getting used to. We were also given ski poles, along with the skate hire, which turned out to be rather useful when it came to emergency stops. Rather than doing circuits of a rink, visitors were free to go as far as they wanted along the path that had been cleared through the snow, and seats were provided along the way for anyone who needed a rest. This was a real plus for me; given the glorious setting, it was easy to get a bit carried away and tire myself out skating off into the distance, forgetting that I’d have to come all the way back again.

Another day, another intrepid adventure: Sunday saw us off to Rödkullen ski resort in Åre, ready to give skiing a go. Boots presented a bit of a problem: like many people of restricted growth, my tiny feet aren’t quite matched by the size of my legs, something ski boots aren’t made to accommodate. After many trials and tribulations, the guy assisting us managed to dismantle a pair and put them back together so that I could just about jam my feet into them. Now I’d been warned ski boots were uncomfortable, being made of hard plastic and designed to hold ankles rigid, but this was a world of pain I hadn’t been expecting. So much so that I found it difficult to concentrate on listening to our friend Tina teaching us how to ski, so busy was I thinking about my poor mangled feet. Feet that really didn’t want to do what they were told now they were strapped into skis. Improbably small children glided past me as I crashed into barriers and got more and more frustrated and uncomfortable, until I just had to give up and go for some lunch instead.

After a blissful lunchtime of liberation from my boots, I headed back out onto the slopes, this time with much more success. With only a morning’s practice, I never made it off the baby slopes, but snow-plowed my way around quite contentedly once my feet were sufficiently numb. The slope I was on had conveyor-belt lifts, which were incredibly easy to use, but even once I worked up to button lifts there wasn’t a problem: you grab onto a button, stick it behind your knees and let it pull you up the hill. My dad, who was infuriatingly proficient, informs me that the longer button-lifts took a bit more concentration to hold onto, and chair-lifts might have presented more of a challenge, but luckily I never got good enough to find out.

Although they weren’t out on the slopes during our stay, there is an organisation that specialises in skiing for disabled people, which is also based in Rödkullen. Totalskidskolan (Total Ski School) was founded in 1987 by Anders Ohlsson, who was reluctant to give up skiing after breaking his back during military service, and instead worked to develop new equipment to make skiing accessible. I spoke to Nick Cutcliffe at the Total Ski School, who explained their inclusive policy: “We used to have a policy that skiers had to be able to breathe independently, but we’ve now scrapped even that, and I think we’ve now had four fully ventilated people out. There really is no limit.”

With the aid of specialist equipment like sitskis and skicarts and experienced staff providing one-to-one instruction, the school caters for people with a variety of impairments. “For lots of our guests we use standard equipment, but maybe if they’re visually-impaired or have a learning difficulty, they need an instructor with a bit more know-how,” said Nick. And unlike most holiday companies, they hope their customers don’t keep coming back. “Our aim is to get them as independent as possible. We want them to go on to ski elsewhere.”

While the ski school wasn’t open during our weekend in Sweden, we were able to try some dog-sledding, run by Anna at Adventure Booking, who also works with Totalskidskolan. After two days of skiing and skating, I was ready to try something a bit less heavy-going, and sitting on a sledge letting someone else do the work sounded perfect. With me safely strapped into a sledge, two dogs (disappointingly not actual huskies) pulled me along at high speed, with Anna skiing alongside in case we got a little off course. Having accepted I was never going to reach any real velocity skiing, dog-sledding was a much easier and more comfortable way to experience a bit of a thrill.

I might never be a ski champion, but I’m certainly glad I gave it a go, and I can see how much fun it would be once you stop falling over and crashing into things all the time. Skiing can get pretty expensive, though, with having to pay for accommodation, travel, ski wear, ski hire, and ski pass.

While this makes it less of a regular holiday option, it also increases the risk of spending a week surrounded by braying English aristocrats, if you can forgive my inverted snobbery. In this respect, Sweden’s a pretty good option, since most of the tourists seemed to be southern Swedes or Russians, most of whom spoke enough English to get by. And like most Scandinavian countries, Swedes are really into their sauna, the perfect relaxation after a day out on the slopes. In fact, with sledding, skating, sauna and snowy mountain views, the skiing was only part of the fun.

TRAVEL TIPS

Östersund Vinterpark is a municipal park, so there is no entry fee, and from February to April the ice is stable enough to skate on. Skate hire costs 150kr (about £13) for one hour, or 200kr for a whole day. Visit www.turist.ostersund.se

Rödkullen alpine centre in Åre is open from December to May, and ski hire cost us 190kr for half a day’s skiing, with free use of ski lifts, poles, helmets, etc.

Totalskidskolan is open Monday to Friday, December to April. Prices vary, but are subsidised by the organisation. Visit www.totalskidskolan.z.se

Adventure booking offers a range of activities, from dog-sledding to getting up close and personal with a moose. Visit www.adventurebooking.se