THE DARK AND THE LIGHT
Between the fjords in Northern Norway are isthmi full of rarely skied snowcovered peaks.
The sun moves at a different pace in Norway, making for long, epic sunsets. Chad Sayers milks the late light near Narvikfjellet Ski Area.
Narvik is inextricably linked to World War II because of the 68,000 tons of iron ore that arrives every day on electric trains from Sweden.
THE LIGHT SHAPES OUR DAYS. NARVIK, NORWAY, IS A TALE OF CONTRAST. DECEMBER AND JANUARY ARE A PERPETUAL DAWN. ON AN EVENING IN APRIL, THE SUN WAS UNWILLING TO SET, LINGERING ABOVE THE MOUNTAINS A FEW FJORDS AWAY WITH THE STUBBORNNESS AND VIGOR OF A CHILD AVOIDING BEDTIME.
At 9 p.m. I stood in an area called Mørkholla—“The Dark Hole”—about a 30-minute skin from the chairlifts near the top of 4,000-foot Tredjetoppen at Narvikfjellet Ski Area, which, though it has just a few lifts, has the best lift-accessed skiing in Scandinavia. Kids from the small harbor town slapped slalom gates while others lapped the gondola or went for walks along the cat track with their dogs. We saw a few other backcountry skiers, but it didn’t require much effort to find untracked snow. It was a Tuesday night. The lifts run from 5 to 9 p.m. during the week—without the use of floodlights this time of year. In most places, people go to the gym or for a run after work. In Narvik, they start their ski day.
The scene felt casual, but the skiing, not to mention the backdrop, was anything but. Our group of five, including local Micke Af Ekenstam, Mattias Fredriksson, Hennie
