The occasion was a brief weekend jaunt to Sweden. With my cousin and his two friends, we discovered that barring the freak snowstorms of two weeks previous, global warming was having rather a negative effect on the levels of snow in Sweden, to the extent that our only option for some form of training was a 5 hour drive to Torsby, to sample the delights of the Skitunnel, which, perhaps unsurprisingly, is a tunnel through which you can ski, year-round.

The first standing on cross-country skis is a little odd to say the least – the first impression being that they’re exceptionally skinny. They’re also quite bouncy – the skis are actually bowed, so that in theory when standing flat on both skis the area directly beneath the skier's feet is not actually in contact with the ground – when pushing down on one foot however, the ski grips the snow with the aid of the waxed area, and it is possible to propel oneself forwards. These more subtle nuances were slightly lost on us at that point. When both skinny bouncy skis and thin flexible boots only connected at the very tip of the toe are combined, the over-riding impression was one of fragility and wobbliness – especially compared to an alpine skiing set-up (which was the only type of skiing any of us had previously any experience of).

The first lesson seemed to mainly involve our poor beleaguered tutor watching, struck dumb by our incompetence and clearly astounded that we seemed to think we’d be capable of skiing anywhere near 90km in 3 months time when we could barely make it round the full extent of the tunnel (just shy of a kilometre). She tried gamely to boil the sport down into simplistic movements for us to try and emulate, but despite high levels of effort from all four, we didn’t seem to make a great deal of progress towards the effortless style the other occupants of the tunnel were displaying. No matter which way you looked at it, it seemed that this sport was one that involved more than a modicum of technique. Needless to say there was a lot of falling over – something that before trying the sport I truly hadn’t considered as being an issue, but which, it turns out, is exceptionally easy to do. There were a few more concerned expressions that evening, as it began to dawn on us quite the extent of the undertaking we had signed up for.

We had another lesson the next day, which, in fairness, went a good deal better, and during which we began at least to demonstrate some semblance of actual technique – albeit not terribly good technique. It was more a case of at least doing the same action stride by stride being better than another random set of movements with each stride. I wouldn’t go as far as to suggest that there was any rhythm on display, but you could have been forgiven for perhaps thinking that these were skiers with simply very little idea of what they were doing rather than people suffering from severe imbalance and very poor coordination. The journey back to Stockholm gave us time to consider quite how tricky a challenge the race might actually be (and to realise that we might need at least a couple more practice weekends before we set out on the world’s longest cross-country ski race) – thankfully any sombre thoughts were quickly banished by a drunken night on the tiles in Stockholm (drinking spirits only - having been informed of the potentially training-damaging effects of beer) .

Vasaloppet 2007 - photo credit www.fasterskier.com

Our next cross-country adventure came on the first weekend in January, when we arrived late on a Friday night in a sleepy Austrian mountain village, this time with our own gear, and prepared to attempt our first** training session without tuition. The area we visited was blessed with a huge network of cross-country ski trails, including a very scenic track that circled a nearby mountain, onto which we launched ourselves blithely.

I'd like at this stage to refer the reader back to the comment that this was only the second outing on skinny skis, and in fact the first outing on our very own skinny skis (purchased, hung over, in Stockholm) - at least for Will and myself - for Peter and Anders, as alluded to above (**), this is not quite true. These skis - fresh and never-before used, had a distinct absence of wax on them, and so Will and I had had them waxed from the local, and very friendly sports store 'Willy's Sport' - who were immensely helpful, but with whom there may have been a slight communication issue in as much as Will and my conclusion (in hindsight) was that when we asked them to 'wax our skis', handed them two pairs of brand new cross-country skis, and wandered off to peruse the store, they assumed we meant to put on a base layer of glide wax, thinking we would apply the all-important climbing wax ourselves (often something that is personal to a particular skier, and which, looking as we did like seasoned skiers, they probably assumed we would want to do ourselves). In fact, we had no idea at that stage that there existed more than one type of wax, and so assumed that after picking our skis up we were good to go. Which of course we were - we just weren't good to go uphill.

All this serves as an elaborate and highly debatable excuse for the fact that half way around the course we had struck out upon, Peter and Anders continued up the steepening incline looking ever more competent and effortless, and Will and I began to slip back down it, looking decidedly inept and peeved. The only solution seemed to be the adoption of the ubiquitous (but highly inefficient and very frustrating) duck-waddle familiar to most people who've either partaken in, or at any stage watched cross-country skiing - neither pretty nor particularly effective, especially when demonstrated by two complete novices. It was interesting to note however, that as soon as it became clear that Peter and Anders weren't suffering from the same complete lack of speed, how effective we were at coming up with some fairly cohesive theories as to why they might be motoring off towards the horizon, and we were floundering inelegantly and cursing volubly at the 'stupidest of sports'. At no stage did we countenance the thought that Peter and Anders might simply know what they were doing.

After struggling lamely up the hill, we (Will and I - Peter and Anders were nowhere in sight) took refuge in a small mountain cafe, where a cup of gluwein restored our spirits, although it made hardly any difference to our speed as we slipped our way round the remainder of the track and returned to Willy's Sport to discuss our waxing woes. A brief waxing masterclass later, and we were back out for a late afternoon burst, armed with 'klister' - a type of wax we previously had no idea existed, but which by all accounts was exactly the sort of thing we'd needed that morning. Running the risk of a more fundamental sense of humour failure, it was a huge relief to discover that this klister substance seemed to be a considerable aid to our skiing, albeit very sticky and impossible to get off your hands if you were unlucky enough to touch the base of your skis at any stage in the klister-application process.

The next day saw the team faced with a moral dilemma. Whilst clearly having made the trip for the purpose of practising (I hold myself short of the term 'perfecting') our cross country skiing technique, the traumas of the previous day meant that certain of the group were eyeing up the downhill pistes on the other side of the valley with a great deal more enthusiasm than the forest trails for another day of skinny skiing. A decision was reached that we should try and do a proper morning session to feel better about taking the afternoon off for some downhill.

The very briefest of cross-country skiing sessions later, and we were piled in the car and barrelling down the road towards the bubble lift. A thoroughly rewarding afternoon ensued, with the discovery that downhill skiing is materially easier (despite the thigh-burn) than cross-country, and, possibly controversially, also a great deal more enjoyable.

Up the first hill in Vasaloppet 2007 - I know exactly how the fallen skier is feeling...     Photo credit www.fasterskier.com

Our next adventure was to Norway, where one of Anders' clients was spending the weekend in his mountain chalet close to Lillehammer, and (foolishly) had offered to take us out for a tour on the Saturday morning. After arriving at his mountain bolt-hole we were immediately reminded of our complete amateurishness when Erik agreed to wax our skis, and, entering the shed (complete with ski-waxing stand), we were presented with what appeared to be a myriad of choices of coloured waxes and klisters - and he was met with a selection of almost entirely vacant stares. At this stage Erik probably had an idea that he was dealing with a standard of novice he had not previously encountered, but it wasn't until we actually set off, and in following him up the first hill (through deep snow, in our defence), each of us in turn collapsed, that he realised quite how amateurish a bunch of skiers we actually were.

Later in the day, Erik confessed that he had been slightly concerned at that stage, not simply for the sake of our session, but crucially for our chances of completing (in what was less than 2 months by now) the 90km course of the Vasaloppet. I'm pleased to say that we improved considerably throughout the following journey (of over 40km), although revealed another basic error in not having eaten enough prior to our exercise as we began running out of energy and moving steadily more slowly as the session continued.

Vasaloppet 2007 - photo credit www.fasterskier.com

Being fairly far North in Norway in the winter meant we didn't have a great many hours of daylight available to us in the first place, and our sedate progress meant that we finally reached our 'lunch' stop at some point after 3, which sadly meant 'lunch' was no longer being served. We managed to get hold of some coffees and cakes though (not necessarily the carb-heavy sustenance we were looking for, but better than nothing), but by the time we were back on the skis outside, dusk was well and truly setting in, so Erik suggested he head on and pick up his car, so that he could meet us at an earlier point on the trail and drive us back. I think at this stage he was beginning to get concerned as to how long the return leg might take, especially in the dark, and despite ou re-fuelling stop. In any case, it was a bit of a reality check to see him disappear off into the gathering gloom, seemingly effortlessly, as we got to grips with starting out again. No sooner had we got going and were picking our way through the darkness back along the trail we'd arrived on, than Erik was back with us (he'd just covered almost twice the distance as us in the same time - a touch galling).

Next day the conditions were a little on the blustery side. In fact, that's more than a slight exaggeration - it was practically a blizzard. We headed out (with a general sense of trepidation), and up onto the plateau we'd been skiing across the day before, only to find the conditions worsening.

There followed what was one of the more amusing episodes of outdoor exercise I have ever been involved in - all four of us straining against the wind and driving snow, wearing our ludicrously inadequate racing-style cross-country ski gear and ploughing our way through ever deepening snow. There were distinctly fewer other skiers around compared to the day before, when we'd seen dozens, and those that we did see seemed to be a lot better prepared than we were, equipped as most of them were with what looked like much warmer clothing, sturdier skis, rucksacks full of (one presumed) provisions, poles with nice broad snow buckets, hoods and visors, and, in many cases, snow shoes. We were beginning to get quite a few bemused looks as we battled on through the thickening snow, meeting the occasional Arctic explorer-esque skier coming in the opposite direction.

After getting mildly lost amidst what we soon discovered was a fairly indistinctive landscape (most directions tend to look the same on a tree-dotted snow-covered plateau in a white-out), and haphazardly stumbling our way back to a sign-post which seemed to point to a trail distinguishable only by the fact that the tops of the trees (all we could see above the snow in any case) seemed to follow a vague line, we decided that perhaps continuing on this foolhardy jaunt was a bad idea, and so ploughed our way back in (what we hoped was) the direction we had come from. A swift descent from the plateau (and with a slight lack of control in the deeper snow and steepish incline), saw us fall beneath the blizzard level somewhat, so we tried a quick extra blast with some visibility (much improved). Our return to Oslo was delayed for only a short while as we dug our half buried hire car out of the snow drift formed around it.

Wind forward a couple of weeks and the illustrious team were standing on the start-line of the Gavleloppet (a 45km race in Gavle, which acts as a seeding race for the Vasaloppet - your time in the Gavleloppet can be used to move you up the start groups in the Vasaloppet). The day before we tried to find some snow in the vicinity of Stockhom, and ended up doing laps of an extremely icy golf course in the suburbs. With this excellent level of preparation we arrived in Gavle the following morning (after a 2 hour drive cramped in yet another hire car), ready for our first actual cross-country ski competition. Our lateness for the event was quite something however; as we barrelled down the icy road to the start line, flung ourselves from the car and threw our skis on the ground we remembered the importance of waxing the skis - charging over to a man in a small hut to request said waxing, Will was met with a look of mild bewilderment. Upon explaining that we needed our skis waxing for the race, he was asked which race he thought he was doing, since the only one here stated in 7 minutes. Will confirmed that that was indeed the one that we would be doing (and pointed our that times for the event were unlikely to be materially worsened by an extra 5-10 minutes waiting for the waxing..). Using every bit of Scandinavian reserve, the gentleman with waxing powers said that would be fine, and asked what sort of wax Will would like to go for. Cue opportunity for Will to return the stare of bewilderment. He opted for "whatever you think is best", which seemed to do the trick, and all respect to the waxer, we had our skis ready to go in no time. As the start gun went, we were still attaching our skis, putting gloves on and grabbing our poles. Sure enough though, the slight delay at the start didn't make the hugest difference to our overall performance.

The race itself was quite good fun - 2 shorter laps followed by 2 longer laps, on reasonably tight tracks through a forest. The snow was of pretty good quality, and personally the first couple of laps went pretty well (although I fairly swiftly realised that I was going to have to focus a bit more on not falling over quite so frequently - my progress through the field was severely hindered when after getting a few hundred yards ahead of another competitor I would then take a spectacular tumble and find myself upside down on the side of the track). My wax - the eternal bane of my cross-country skiing experience - seemed to start wearing off during the third lap. Hills which I'd been gripping on fairly happily for the first part of the race began posing serious issues, and it was all I could do on some of them not to slide straight back down. The duck waddle became an ever more frequent style, to my severe disappointment. I kept plodding round though, and was very happy to finally cross the finish line. I spent the next week discovering a large number of bruises in various places where I'd managed to bash myself in the course of my unintentional acrobatics. Team moral at the finish line was relatively upbeat - all were generally pleased with their performances (despite the usual gripes about wax), and, outwardly at least, seemed to think that twice the distance was not too much of a daunting prospect (especially, as we kept reassuring ourselves, since Vasaloppet is a great deal flatter than Gavleloppet)...