Why Norway and Sweden are perfect for a cross-border ski trip

“Sälen is a very nice place,” says my driver, Roger. “You’ll like it.” The Swedes, it turns out, are masters of understatement, because the scene that reveals itself outside the van window is a jaw-droppingly pretty Swedish fairytale of rolling hills, snow-dusted pines and cosy log cabins, trails of chimney smoke disappearing into the crisp air. It’s so much more than “very nice”.

I’d arrived in Sweden earlier that morning, landing at the simple, single-storey Scandinavian Mountains Airport on a direct flight from London. Set on the Swedish-Norwegian border, the airport opened in 2019 in one of the region’s largest alpine ski areas, taking in the resorts of Sälen and Trysil — it was quickly dubbed ‘Europe’s most convenient ski airport’. Prior to its inauguration, the closest hub for international flights was Oslo, two-and-a-half hours away. Now you could be on the slopes 10 minutes after collecting your luggage.

I’ve come to Scandinavia on a multi-stop ski trip, taking in three different resorts — two in Sweden before jumping across the border into Norway. Not long after leaving the airport I arrive at my first stop, Hundfjället, one of the six main villages that make up the Sälen ski area. I check into the grand, US-style ski in, ski out lodge run by SkiStar, which owns five of the region’s largest resorts, and, after a quick lunch and a seamless picking up of kit, I hit the slopes.

Skiing in Sweden is very different from how it is in places such as the French Alps, where mighty peaks, long pistes, large ski areas and often hefty lift queues dominate. In Hundfjället, the tallest mountain is less than 900m and its ski area, even when combined with next-door Tandådalen, is just 45km. But what Sweden’s ski scene lacks in size it makes up for — usually — with oodles of snow.

Scandinavia prides itself on being snow-sure all season long. However, after four record-breaking white winters, the snow is thinner on the ground than usual when I arrive, thanks to a couple of weeks of unseasonably warm weather. But despite some patchy conditions, there’s still plenty of skiing to enjoy and some challenging runs, too, such as Väggen (meaning ‘the wall’). As it’s widely considered to be among the most difficult slopes in Sweden, naturally I feel compelled to give it a go, taking it easy off the top of the 45-degree piste before carving sweeping turns on the empty slope below.

Mostly, though, Hundfjället is about families, and the beginner and intermediate runs are busy with Swedes and their offspring — decked out in all-in-one suits made by cool Scandi ski brands. The busiest piste is Trollskogen, a delightful, 1.5km-long themed run through the spruce forest populated by hundreds of comical wooden trolls. Carved by a local carpenter, they’re arranged as though they’re participating in everyday situations in all manner of locations: at the pub, the night club, in the ski lift queue.

The following morning, I take the long drag lift that links Hundfjället with Tandådalen, a smooth hill with dozens of runs leading straight down in all directions from the bald, wind-whipped summit. The runs are mostly gentle, although a handful of black slopes leave me out of breath. There’s also an impressive snow park that I’d struggle to drag my kids away from, were they with me.

Slide into Stöten

After lunch, I wave goodbye to Hundfjället and make the 20-minute journey to Stöten, a family-owned ski resort that bills itself as having ‘Sälen’s best skiing’. “This is where families come once they’ve graduated from Hundfjället,” says my guide and manager of the Stöten Ski School, Frederic Ericsson. “We have lots of different slopes for all levels of skiers.”

I find Stöten’s slopes have a bit more personality than those at Hundfjället: the pistes are longer and more winding, with some fun runs carved through the spindly pine trees. It’s also home to Älvan, which Frederic proudly tells me is “consistently voted the best slope in Sweden”. I ski it several times and can confidently vouch that the steep black run is 1.5km of thigh-burning fun.

With Frederic, I cruise along blue runs numbered 10 and 14, past public huts, each with a fire pit where families sit barbecuing hot dogs. Later, Frederic leads me down black run number 26, where Alberto Tomba won the men’s World Cup slalom in 1990 — a photo of him in action hangs at the top of the World Cup Express chairlift.

That evening, I enjoy a well-earned drink in cosy Stöten Ski Hotel and watch as a crowd of students in bobble hats dances and sings along to a guitarist playing a medley of ABBA songs. Well, we are in Sweden after all.

Onwards into Norway

The last stop on my Scandinavian ski adventure is SkiStar Lodge Trysil, conveniently located at the foot of the slopes in Norway’s biggest ski resort, just across the border from Sweden. Compared to Stöten and Sälen, the Trysil ski area is enormous, with 81km of slopes laced around two sides of the 1,132m Trysilfjellet mountain. Plus, there are 100km of tracks dedicated to Norway’s national sport, cross-country skiing.

“There’s a saying in Norway that you are born with skis on your feet,” says Johan Söderlund, guest relations manager at SkiStar. “And those skis are cross-country skis.” The Norwegians have been skiing for centuries, and Trysli claims its ski club, founded in 1861, is the world’s oldest. But it wasn’t until the 1960s that lifts arrived and alpine skiing really took off. “Before that, a tractor used to pull you up the slopes,” says Johan.

Today, though, Trysil is a super-slick modern resort with super downhill and cross-country skiing. I spend two days exploring as much of the domain as possible, cruising along the glorious green number 36, bathed in late winter sunshine, and challenging myself on a series of black runs, including the number 63 competition slope that’s regularly used by national teams for training. It’s only later that I discover Mikaela Shiffrin, the most decorated alpine skier of all time, had been practicing her slalom while I was there.

One afternoon, I stop at Knettsetra, a restaurant set in a former farmhouse dating back to 1790, and order a portion of waffles served with a generous dollop of raspberry jam. Afterwards, I pause near the summit to watch the sun set over the miles of snow-covered hills and the twinkling fairy lights of hundreds of wooden cabins dotted among the pine forests. I find it positively beautiful, but the Scandinavians would probably say it’s ‘very nice’. At least now I know what they really mean.