Hannah Ohlson: Reflections On Solo Travel + The Je Ne Sais Quoi About Nordic Ski Culture.
- Hannah Ohlson
- Apr 15
- 3 min read
AMBASSADÖRK Hannah Ohlson traded a family trip to Sweden for a ski race in Iceland. No stranger to solo adventuring, Hannah keenly observed the community of ski culture that transcends borders and celebrates the shared camaraderie of racing.
With that, let's get to it.
ambassadörks
Hannah: The Je Ne Sais Quoi of Nordic Ski Culture
Reflections on solo travel, a ski race whose name I can’t pronounce, and that certain je ne sais quoi about Nordic ski culture that makes you feel right at home.
As all my friends were starting to put summer wax on their skis and dust off their bike helmets, I began packing for a final and epic Nordic hurrah of the season: a trip to ski the Fossavatnsgangan World Loppet in Iceland.
A small contingent of my family has schlepped over to Sweden to ski the Vasaloppet the last couple years, but the crew wanted a year off and I, still inspired, chose this new-to-me race. I went alone. I’m no stranger to solo travel, but it has become increasingly rare since my husband I started a family a few years ago, and I knew that the opportunity would be increasingly scarce as our family grows in the coming years. So, off I went.
Visiting Iceland was like traveling to a distant grandparent’s home; it’s familiar and civilized, but at the same time chilly and austere.
After a couple days tourist-ing in the capital city of Reykjavik, I made the 6 hour trek north to charming Ísafjörður, the isolated fjordland village that hosts the Fossavatnsgangan World Loppet.
If you’ve been around a race town in the days before a ski event you know the expectant hum, and it’s easy to pick out who’s there for the event through little cues: a Birkie hat in the grocery store, smalltown Nordic center patch on a Swix puffer, the wiry build and weathered face of the master-blaster who’s been putting in 1000 kilometers a winter since he was 10.
I perused coffee shops and made small talk with other racers, equally as excited as me to be in this special place for our shared endeavor.
Race day held all the buzz, struggle and accomplishment of a big race’s narrative arc.
The weather was the great equalizer, bringing “it is what it is” waxing conditions and a damp, wetting cold. We were even graced with some cold rain mid-race. Redemption for the conditions came in the form of kinship with fellow racers, and the camaraderie of shared suffering in sweet, subtle ways.
A woman from Seattle adorned me with cheek glitter à la Jesse Diggins, an Austrian guy put some fancy glide wax on my skis moments before the gun fired, and enthusiastic heja hejas were exchanged mid-course among racers. The course’s scenery was stark and stunning, and we were all in it together. It was, dare I say, really fun. Type 2, though.
For me, solo voyages embody the complexities of freedom, loneliness, vulnerability, and introspection.
You’re exposed, unfiltered, to both the place and oneself. Traveling for a Nordic race softened these tender edges with the familiar blanket of kind people, shared suffering, and the undeniable cultural currency of our grueling, niche sport. The solitude of the solo ski keeps me fit, but the solidarity of the Nordic community keeps me coming back.
Hannah Ohlson is a Colorado nordie who's excited about winter sunshine, cheerful colors and nice merino socks. Hannah has been on skis since she was wee, and her blood probably has some glide wax in it. When not picking off kilometers, Hannah hangs with her toddler & husband, works as a wildland firefighter-ista, studies ecology, or plans dreamy winter trips to northern latitudes. Her favorite candy is Candy Corn and is on the grid @huckleberry_hansi
the closer What We're Thinking About.
That Hannah should write more, we have so many more questions.