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Let us take you on the grand tour through the province of Jämtland. A sparsely populated place with extensive wilderness, or? What’s the deal with all the brats hanging here then, and who decided to place a ski slope on my mountain?

Completely unaccustomed to snow and winter road conditions, the hundreds of stubborn tourists in front of us don’t drive faster than 70 km/h (45 mph). Honking, we criss-cross between their weighed down minivans on our way to Scandinavia’s winter sports city, Åre. Located in the middle of Jämtland County, this little neon lit village offers a sharp contrast to other forest covered parts of Jämtland. I sink into the driver’s seat and give the finger to  yet another tire chain clad SUV that blocks our way. My brother Mikael and I left on a Friday morning to seek out some fresh powder up in the mountains with some friends who live in Åre.

We met up with Frank Huss and Dan Lang down in the village. After unloading the sleds, we found our way from the parking lot up to the mountains. Except for being overrun by tourists, police and prohibited areas, Åre is an excellent free-riding area. You will find long valleys with deep powder, steep ravines and high cliffs. Since it had snowed and blown during the night, we decided to start on the backside of Renfjället, where snow usually collects after a storm. We got an entire day of riding in perfect weather and untouched snowdrifts. Everyone was satisfied except Mikael, who sullenly stated that his rebuilt Viper was not up to standard. During a short rest on a mountaintop with cell phone coverage, we called around to every snowmobile shop with a 200 km radius. After a little searching we found a REV 440, the purchase was done over the telephone and we decided to go pick it up on the way home.

The afternoon passed quickly and when darkness began to set in, we loaded the sleds and started the journey to the next target. The original plan was to track up all the available snow in Åre on Friday and then continue late at night to the village of Jormvattnet in northern Jämtland, about a four-hour drive. With some minor adjustments in our travel plan, we discussed preparations to pick up the new sled. As we loaded in the twilight, the whole village vibrated from the throbbing of the after-ski cocktail hour and pre-party festivities. It felt strange to leave there on a Friday night, but the urge to shred more powder was stronger. We left the brats and their platinum cards in Åre and tried not to look back when the disco-blinking mountain disappeared in the rear view mirror. We continued north and completed the world’s fastest snowmobile transaction at a roadside dealership. History from the morning road rage almost repeated itself when we were forced to drive slalom between moose, reindeer and other stupid animals that stubbornly remained between the two-meter high snow walls on the sides of the road. Mikael swore loudly each time he was forced to abruptly brake for a confused reindeer herd, standing paralysed in the middle of the road and staring at our headlights. We arrived late at night to a small village located in a valley between some mountains close to the Norwegian border. The street lamps had already been turned off for the night and the only thing to be heard was the silent rumble of the northern lights high above us. We stayed for a beer with Anders Jonsson at his farm. After a while, Stefan Hansson showed up and we discussed the somewhat substandard nightlife here in the mountains. Despite the mentioned lack of nightlife, Jormvattnet has the best riding in all of Jämtland. The vicinity of the Norwegian mountains on the other side of the border makes the mountain impressive by Scandinavian standards. Though snow is always guaranteed, we have been fortunate enough to receive an unusually high amount of the white stuff this year.

When we woke up the next day the sun was shining from the clear blue sky. The riding was fantastic and we didn’t even break any sleds!
Back at Jormvattnets ice fishing camp, we cook our dinner over an open fire with a Murikka (a Finnish frying pan used to cook on open fire). With a cold beer and garlic bread, it’s the best meal I have ever eaten. Afterwards, when we sat in the metal hot tub watching the sunset, we looked out over the lake and the silhouette of Jormliklumpen Mountain. I opened a fresh beer and gave a grateful thought to Heineken.

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