The things we do for waffles

“Here’s the plan…” I confidently said, “…we take the little snow bus across the valley to the tiny ski area (Raudalen). Take the chair lift up onto the plateau and ski a loop back to the bus.”

What could possibly go wrong?

I had been looking across the valley at the plateau and a ski tour up there looked fun. The tourist info advised the uplift as the descent was, “Too steep.”

To my question, “Could we go the other way round and get the chair lift down?” The answer was, “Oh, they don’t take you down. Only up.”

Odd, I thought. I wonder why? I’ve never known a chair lift that won’t take people down.

“Can’t we just skin up?”

“Oh, no. Too steep”

I’m sure I mentioned “Chair lift” a number of times. Certainly though something was lost in translation as, on arrival at said “Chair lift” we were horrified to see that it was no such thing. It was in fact that arch nemesis of many skiers, a pommel, or drag lift. Going, it seemed, up a vertical face.

“Bugger!” I said. Mrs P concurred.

A pommel lift, with nordic skis! As I said earlier, what could possibly go wrong?

The pommel ride of death. Note there is no one on it!

Before I go in to detail of this pommel ride of death, I will start with a spoiler. We made it to the top (well, at least 50% of us did) and had a great days skiing, but since just talking about the only photo I have of the pommel ride would be dull, I shall intersperse this tail with photos of the lovely tour we successfully completed once on the plateau.

Reunited at the top, a fellow sufferer of the pommel lift took a great photo of me and Mrs P, despite his still shaking hands.

A pommel lift is a one person ski lift that drags the skier/victim up the slope by means of a bar and disc that fits between the legs. To give an idea of how tricky they are, beginners and snowboarders are banned from using them in some resorts.

There are many things that can go wrong and you really don’t want to fall off one. The following link shows why. [Link]

The reward for not falling off the lift

Now both Mrs P and I have been on many pommel lifts in our long skiing careers, but never with nordic skis. Thin, very long, skittish planks of wood not attached at the heel.

We were fairly sure that riding the pommel would be fine, if unpleasant. It was the getting started and, most importantly, the getting off at the end that worried us.

Having survived the pommel of death we laughed in the face of danger and once again headed off the trail.

To be honest, the main problem was the ‘nice’ man in charge of the lift. He really wanted to help. He really failed.

I was up first. Pommel firmly between my legs and… MAN DOWN! I’m lying on the floor.

“Sorry!” Said the nice man. “My fault.”

Those who have visited Mrs P and I will know that we have a ‘Hobbit’ BBQ house in our garden, so you can imagine how excited we were when we came across this public shelter just like ours.

Second time lucky and I’m off. All is good. It’s VERY steep in places, but all is definitely good. I carefully look round to check on Mrs P, who should be right behind me, but there is no one there. No abandoned pommels, (a good sign) nothing, just a hundred metresof no one (a bad sign). I kept looking back and as I approached the top there was still no sign of anyone behind me. Oh dear!

Inside we eat our lunch and chat with a couple of Norwegians who live in Denmark.

Near the top the drag lift takes a sharp left turn and continues on up for another 30 or so metres.

I think to myself “I do hope Mrs P doesn’t get off here by mistake.” (Spolier alert, she does!) If I ever see her again that is.

At the top I successfully dismount and turn to watch Mrs P following me. Or not. Five skiers eventually arrive, none of whom are Mrs P.

“Did you see a curly haired beauty (I’m paraphrasing) at the bottom?” I ask one of them. “Yes. She was having some difficulties.” Came the reply. Oh dear part two!

Beautiful views down to the lake on the ski out.

After a tense several minutes and at least 6 more skiers I spot Mrs P 30 metres below me. Off the pommel. She got off too low. I ski down to her.

Now she may look like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth, but I can hear some shocking language as I approach.

Mrs butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. Possibly thinking about the %#$ing pommel lift.

It turns out that the ‘nice’ man tripped her up no less than twoce. Apologetic each time, she thought she would let some others go ahead while she contemplated calling me and saying “Save yourself. I’m staying here.” On top of which she got off too soon and had to skin up 30 metres of black run to get to me.

Poor lamb.

Our new ski buddies, Marit and Helge(?) who we shared the route with and also the very last waffles at the cafe.

One very happy skier with the very last waffle.

Despite all the drama of the pommel lift though, we had a great day.

It really is a small world.

The excitement didn’t end there though. Back in Beitostølen, we met up with a friend of mine, Mike, who we discovered was in Norway skiing with two Norwegian friends; Bjørn and Knut. They had been climbing some local mountains on skis. What they did made our mini adventure look somewhat pedestrian.

It was great to catch up.

From right to left: Bjørn, Knut, me, Mrs P, Mike and last but not least, the photographers finger.