Jan and Judy Get New Ski Gear, New Snow Adventures In A Land That Loves Skiing.

After breaking her leg on our disastrous first ski date in Michigan, my wife Judy was still a bit stiff  in the left leg when we arrived in Norway in late June 1956 to begin my Fulbright-student year studying Norwegian folklore.  But we had all summer to get in shape—walking around Oslo, hiking in the forests and mountains, and taking some long bike trips.

In the fall, we bought ski gear: wooden skis, cable bindings, leather boots, and bamboo poles. State of the art stuff. I had my favorite ski clothes, including the Norwegian striped cardigan I had been using since 1953; Judy bought a spiffy new outfit (maroon ski pants and grey jacket) that she occasionally still uses.

Oslo was a great place to practice. The tram lines run right up to the edge of Nordmarka, the vast wooded park above the city, and there were ski racks integrated into the sides of the old wooden cars. (I assume they have metal tram cars by now.) This photo of Judy loading her skis was taken on a weekday; on weekends and holidays the whole side of the car would be covered with skis.

I believe the only ski lift we rode all year was a T-bar in Nordmarka; the rest was cross country. After touring up there we could glide right back down to the area where we lived via ski tracks maintained between houses and businesses.

Early in the winter we took a train to Lillehammer, stayed in the youth hostel, and skied both in town around the open-air folk museum and in the surrounding countryside.

Next we did a weeklong trip with some friends to Numedalen, staying in a rented cabin (hytte) above the treeline. The snow was great, and we got lots of practice and exercise climbing up hills and sliding down. Judy, only in her second season as a skier, got pretty good, despite having little coaching beyond “Follow me!” Here she is enjoying some powder.

One day on that trip I skied down to a village to buy some food, expecting a long slog back up with a heavy rucksack. But just as I was starting up, a group of Norwegian army men came along in a tracked vehicle. They tossed me a rope and pulled me back to the level of our cabin. Sweet!

In March we attended the annual jumping meet at Holmenkollen with my uncle and his family. It was a foggy day, and the jumpers came sailing out of the murk, most of them sticking the landing as if it had been a clear day.

Easter was late in 1957  (April 21st) so when we made another mountain trip, this time to a cabin in Telemark, the weather was balmy and snow was thin except in the shadows. Here we are enjoying the traditional Norwegian Easter ski trip, me still in that favorite sweater.

In June when we returned to the States we had enjoyed a great year of study and skiing in my ancestral home, so to speak. I brought back an article that got published in the Journal of American Folklore, kicking off my academic career. And, of course, we kept our Norwegian ski gear.

But would there be much skiing in our immediate future? After all, we were headed to Bloomington for my graduate work at Indiana University. Not exactly in a major ski zone, but who knows?

To be continued . . .