Skiing in Norway: stunning Senja Island boasts perfect slopes, even if you have to climb them yourself
- The Scandinavian country’s second largest island offers powder-soft snow and spectacular scenery without the crowds. Why? A lack of lifts means you have to walk to the summit
Senja likes to call itself “Norway in miniature” since the country’s second-biggest island (1,600 sq km, with a population of 7,864) contains pretty much every landscape you’re likely to encounter elsewhere in the Scandinavian nation. What you won’t come across, though, are the ski resorts, which is why I find myself slogging up one of Senja’s many mountains on my skis rather than sailing effortlessly heavenwards on a chairlift. Not that I mind.
As our small group of ski enthusiasts approaches the summit of Litjemoa, at about 800 metres, we negotiate a wide ridge with, on one side, enormous crags plummeting down to the black waters of a deep fjord while, behind us, the Atlantic Ocean glints steel-blue. With a pay-off like that in return for a couple of hours of uphill hiking, who cares if it has involved a bit of effort?
Senja’s mountains see relatively few visitors, which means the reward for having hiked up the slopes are descents down wide, open, untracked powder fields and through sheltered birch forests, the clank of ski lifts and hubbub of the pole-wielding hordes a world away. True, Senja’s mountains are modest in altitude – the highest point on the island is just over 1,000 metres – but they soar straight up from sea level, offering more than enough “vertical” to keep any skier happy. It’s this dramatic conjunction of coastline and mountain that makes the experience so special.
“This is remote country, so ski carefully,” says mountain guide Dick Johansson, before we set off up Litjemoa. The laconic 60-something from nearby Sweden then leads at a slow and steady pace, the rest of us following like ducklings behind momma duck.
Because we’re close to sea level, there are no issues with altitude. We gradually rise above the valley floor into expansive snow fields with even more expansive horizons: inland stand wild, unnamed mountains punctuated by deep, winding fjords; in the opposite direction, and far below, waves roll onto a shoreline that, in places, is as clear and turquoise-blue as the Caribbean.
