Falköping Alpin

I never realized how spoiled I was in Sacramento, a short 90-minute drive from major Tahoe resorts.

I mean, California snow is garbage compared to the “cold smoke” I rode on in Montana, but that’s not a fair comparison. Most Swedes don’t even believe I snowboarded in a state that movies portray as looking entirely like a beach. Point being, I was lucky I got to ride as often as I did during those five winters.

I’ve only hit the slopes twice in one-and-a-half winters in a country that movies portray as looking predominantly like the North Pole. How ironic is that?

Thing is, it has to be cold for snow. In California that means going to high elevations. In Sweden, we have our northern latitude to thank for low temperatures, even at low elevations.

The highest point, Kebnekaise in the far north, has a peak of 2,111 meters (a little under 7,000 feet). And there’s not even any commercial skiing around there. Several Tahoe resorts have a higher elevation than that — at their base.

We live in southern Sweden and most of the big resorts are many hours north. We’re fortunate to have a tiny mountain in our town (average elevation of just 230 meters, 750 feet). Most of the neighboring cities have nothing.



Falköping Alpin only has two runs I can really use, “Slalombacken” and ”Mittlöpan,” the longer of which is a very short 400 meters (a quarter-mile).



I had Slalombacken mostly to myself on Sunday after a decent storm Saturday night.



Here's a view looking up Slalombacken I shot on a bluebird day last winter.



To the far right is Mittlöpan on the same day, with a few medium kickers.



It's rather underwhelming and gets old fast, but beggars can’t be choosers and considering that I can walk there from our apartment in less than 20 minutes and a lift pass runs a little more than $20 USD, I can’t complain too much.



Sure, there are only rope tows, since chairlifts aren’t feasible for such short distances.



And it takes about 30 seconds to speed down the steepest run, but it’s something. And I don’t have to take an overnight train to get some action.

Though I do plan to make a trek to the north in the near future to experience the famed Åre resort pictures below.

Darkness

There’s a crucial aspect of Sweden’s geography that I’m starting to realize very few people back in the States grasp.

Although, considering that on visits back more than two old acquaintances have asked, “How’s Switzerland?” maybe I’m expecting too much? I digress.

Sweden has extremely high northern latitude. Our town, which is in the southern third of the country, is virtually the same latitude as Juneau, Alaska.



Why does it matter? Well, aside from the obvious climate effects of 15 percent of your country actually lying north of the Arctic Circle, it means the solstices are very pronounced.

During the summer, we enjoy long days with early sunrises and sunlight into the late evening. That comes with the tradeoff of dark days in the winter months, of course.

And after the summer solstice in late June, that shift from light to dark happens more quickly than you might imagine. While commuting to Stockholm every day during the late summer and early fall, I snapped a quick photo from the platform every Thursday morning at 6 a.m. from August 18 through September 29. These photos show the week-by-week progression towards darkness over seven weeks:















And the days have been much darker than that the last couple of months leading up to the winter solstice this Thursday — the shortest, darkest day of the year. The good news is there will only be more and more light each day from here on out until Midsummer.

On Thursday, the projected sunrise in Sacramento is 7:21 a.m., with a sunset at 4:49 p.m.

Here in Falköping, the sun won’t rise until 8:52 a.m. and it will set at 3:17 p.m. That’s three fewer hours of light on the darkest day.

I guess I should just be thankful we don’t live further north, where polar twilight or polar night engulf parts of the largest Nordic countries for much of the winter. Some towns will be lucky to have a few hours of twilight reflecting off the snow during the worst four weeks of the year from early December to early January.

The sun won’t even rise Thursday in Kiruna, Sweden’s northernmost city, but apparently they have to put something on the weather websites, anyway.



So when you think the days feel short in the U.S. in late December, just remember that they could always be shorter.

Where's the Snow?

When we left Sweden to celebrate Amanda’s 22nd birthday in Italy last November, there were no signs of winter.

We departed Italy a few days later into perfect skies.



When we landed in Gothenburg — one year ago today — 30 centimeters of snow had fallen.



A year later, it’s only barely cold enough for snow and the precipitation is nowhere to be found. Meteorologists say there hasn’t been this little snow in Sweden at this time in more than 100 years.

There’s a thin layer of snow on the ground in northwestern Sweden, but not nearly enough to open any of the famed ski resorts I’m looking forward to experiencing in the coming months.

Two months ago, the same meteorologists promised the third straight winter with below-normal temperatures. Admittedly, they did forecast a mild fall with temperatures dipping quickly by the time winter officially arrives on December 21.

Maybe I've been spoiled. My first two winters here have been the two coldest, snowiest since World War II. Still, I hope things turn around just as suddenly this November as they did last year.

No Bad Weather, Only Bad Clothing

“Där finns ingen dålig väder, bara dålig kläder.”

“There is no bad weather, only bad clothing.”

It’s one of the most popular Swedish sayings, and I finally learned the true meaning tonight.

I threw on one of my warmest fleeces and walked across town to our friends’ apartment a little after 8 to catch some March Madness hoops action.

I wouldn’t exactly say it was warm outside, but we’ve had much colder nights over the past few months.

Amanda and I ran the paved loop around Falköping earlier this afternoon and couldn’t stop talking about how much the weather had improved during the two weeks I was back home in California. Virtually all of the snow had melted and sidewalks and roads were dry. It really looked and felt like spring was right around the corner.

I left our friends’ place a little before midnight and walked out into a legitimate snowstorm. I couldn’t believe how much snow had fallen in only three hours.





I love fleece jackets. A quality light fleece can rival a thick down, in my opinion. As warm as they are, though, fleeces are not waterproof. Tonight’s blizzard was a wet reminder.



Swedes say there’s always one short yet big storm right before spring actually arrives, and I hope this is it. If the long-range forecast is even close to accurate, it looks like things could finally warm up significantly next week.

Winter's Here

The Swedish Meteorological and Hydrological Institute, the country’s lead weather agency, has a pretty tangible rule for the arrival of winter. When the median day temperature stays in the minus, the season Swedes detest is here.

We’re enjoying our first clear day in over a week. It’s been nonstop snow since last weekend and although the snowfalls have generally been light, the accumulations have added up.



It started with a few dustings that caused us to sweep our front walkway for the first time.



Pretty soon, our front yard had a nice blanket.



The city doesn’t bother making any serious effort to plow most streets in town, including the one in front of our apartment, because vehicles are required by law to use winter tires after November 1 each year and Swedish drivers are more than used to these road conditions. Just not usually in November.



The same scene looked like this less than 48 hours later.



A couple more meters and the view from our living room will start to become obstructed.



We've stopped trying to keep pace with our white walkway.



Last winter was one of epic proportions for the entire country. Temperature and snowfall records were set from the north to the south, and people are freaking out because the first major snow this winter came almost three weeks earlier than last.

“Experts” — and why anyone would want the responsibility that comes with that title where the weather is so unpredictable is beyond me — have predicted a colder, wetter winter than last year. I scoffed at that until I read that the temperature in northern Lapland one night last week dropped to the lowest November reading measured in Sweden in 15 years: negative 36 Celsius. That’s –32.8 Fahrenheit, almost 65 degrees below freezing.

Even though our region is far less extreme than Lapland by comparison, the forecast for the next three days here says highs of –8 Celsius and lows of –14 Celsius.

Winter's Almost Here

If there’s one thing about weather native Swedes learn at an early age, it’s how quickly fall can become winter.

I took this picture on Amanda’s mom’s farm last Thursday, Oct. 14.



Here’s the exact same part of the yard last night — one week later — when we received our first notable snowfall.



We had a dusting one night last weekend and I thought this early afternoon video I shot would be the extent of Thursday’s snow.



I was wrong, and it definitely won’t be the last time I underestimate the Swedish weather. As I finished doing the dishes around 9 p.m., I saw this out the window.



The snow gradually intensified and was still coming down at midnight. By morning, we had a nice blanket of about five centimeters (two inches). Not much, but pretty impressive for mid-October and only 228 meters (750 feet) above sea level.







Most of it had melted by midday today, and temperatures are expected to rise the next few nights while this precipitation hovers over the country.



But I know the snow and cold temperatures will soon return, and maybe even surpass the record-setting winter in Sweden last winter. Polish scientists are predicting Europe’s coldest winter in 1,000 years. I’m juiced, even if 99.99 percent of the people here dread the thought.