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adventure & travel

Snowboarding in the Arctic Circle | Part 2

Perfect snow, perfect freeride terrain

by Jan Sallawitz 11/29/2009
The blue of the train station is the only friendly color of our destination. Apatity was founded because of the occurrence of "apatite", a rare mineral used for fertilizer. And that's how it looks here too...

The blue of the train station is the only friendly color of our destination. Apatity was founded because of the occurrence of "apatite", a rare mineral used for fertilizer. And that's how it looks here too...

...The town is gray and desolate. Prefabricated buildings between neglected, smoking chimneys. The colorful groups of winter sports enthusiasts who tumble off the train here seem like foreign bodies from another, happier world. Valodja and Dimitri, our guides from Kirovsk, are already waiting for us. After a brief, friendly greeting and a skeptical glance at our mountains of equipment, Valodja tells us: "Much snow in the mountains - serious avalanche danger now!" We are curious to see what it looks like on the ground. We speed along the snow-covered roads to Kirovsk in the minibus. The town welcomes us with unplastered prefabricated buildings and its very own charm. The flair is far removed from that of a winter sports resort. Snowboarding in an industrial area is the best way to describe it. But the unbelievable beauty is that the snow-covered mountain flanks around the village rise up into the sky. The village is only 300 m above sea level and the highest peaks are almost 1200 m high. That means downhill runs of 900 m and more. From easy pleasure runs on the wide, gentle ridges, to hilly terrain with small jumps and cornices to play in, to really rugged big mountain lines through gullies and steep slopes, everything seems to be possible.

Our first snowboarding day greets us with bright sunshine. Today we want to ride the lifts in Kirovsk to acclimatize and get an impression of the terrain and snow conditions. There are three small ski areas around the town, each with two or three old-fashioned T-bar and chair lifts. There is no slope grooming due to the lack of snow groomers, so the slopes adapt to the conditions of the mountains. The sporting level of the many winter sports enthusiasts is astonishingly high and even without groomed pistes, they swing and carve down the mountains quickly. To be able to join in, we need lift tickets. We have to kneel down - that's what everyone does here! The ticket counter is so low that you have to crouch down to be able to look inside, as it consists of a decommissioned, converted amusement arcade machine.

The lift ride is also adventurous: on the old T-bar lift, it's only when you get on that you decide whether you get a T-bar and can lift in pairs, or just a plate, as we know them from old French and Italian lifts, or whether the bar is missing altogether. The steep path to the top is a balancing act, as there is no prepared lift track. Shortly before the exit, you have to negotiate a field of knee-high wind gnats.

From the mountain, the contrast between the industrial city with its smoking chimneys at the bottom and the snow-white confectionery peaks all around is particularly bizarre. The different parts of the city are separated by the completely smooth and gleaming white surface of frozen Lake Vudjavr. A very deep lake, as Dimitri explains to us, unfortunately without any fish stock for twenty years thanks to the industry around it. A thin layer of smog can be seen above the town. But the snow is excellent. Although it is a little windblown in some places, it is very powdery and so well set that the risk of avalanches seems low. We climb up for a few minutes on foot and are rewarded with an impressive panorama deep into the Chibin Mountains. From a flat summit plateau, everyone can see the line of a lifetime. If only they could get there, because there are hardly any paths here and the snow makes it impossible to cover such distances on foot. Dimitri just grins meaningfully: "Tomorrow..." is the only thing he can get out of him. But today he presents us with a descent that would have been worth the whole journey. From a sloping ridge, we descend into the taiga in a series of steep couloirs. 700 m of challenging freeride snowboarding with adrenaline guaranteed. Everyone gets their own gully and really lets it rip.

We come together again in a small birch grove and head back to the village. We want to know from our guide whether there are bears here. "Sure," is his answer, "but they're still asleep. You just shouldn't accidentally break into a sleeping den. That could be unpleasant..." From now on, we keep a very close eye on where we put our feet.

The fun really starts the following day: from today, we have snowmobiles at our disposal. As they can reach speeds of almost 100 km/h, we need to practise using them. Especially if you want to drive in deep snow in the mountains. But we are in Russia and here you don't spend much time on little things like that. The best practice is riding. At least that seems to be Valodja's opinion, because after a minimal introduction to the technique, off we go. Always in pairs and with our snowboards strapped behind us, we try to follow him. After a few kilometers on the flat, the skidoo teams are well attuned and the technique is sufficiently well understood so that we can quickly reach the mountains. In the very first bend on a small incline, some of the sledges bury themselves so thoroughly that we have to join forces to get them moving again. This is repeated several times, even though we are not really in the mountains yet. Now it's getting steep and Valodja recommends that we should initially only ski one lane at a time in the fresh snow, so that after a few ascents we have a better chance of making it in pairs.

He lays out a trail for us to follow one by one. But easier said than done. It's hilarious how the first sled of us, with a wildly struggling driver on it, curves up the slope in wide arcs. At least we make it to the top and are rewarded with a magnificent landscape. We are on a very wide, almost flat mountain ridge. The blue sky stretches across a vast white expanse. There is no one to be seen far and wide, just mountain ranges stretching to the horizon, and we spend the next few days snowboarding in a way that couldn't be better. The sun shines all day, there is no wind and the temperatures are moderate during the day. Nevertheless, it is cold enough for the fine powder snow to remain intact. We ski down huge slopes, turn and jump through hilly flanks, find narrow, steep gullies - and are alone everywhere we go. When you get to the bottom, one of us is ready with the skidoo to shuttle you at breakneck speed to the next dream run. So we alternate between having fun on the snowboard and on the snowmobile.

After exploring the slopes around Kirovsk, we want to take a look at the mountains further north. We've heard about an old geostation about 20 km from Kirovsk in the wilderness where you can spend the night. As there is only one snow slope, skidoos are the only means of transportation there. We speed along the bumpy track, as we still have a few kilometers to go and the day is drawing to a close. It's getting very cold and we don't want to risk speeding through the wilderness at night. Even so, we are chilled to the bone and have the first signs of frostbite when we arrive at the geostation.

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This article has been automatically translated by DeepL with subsequent editing. If you notice any spelling or grammatical errors or if the translation has lost its meaning, please write an e-mail to the editors.

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