The Tangent
It is too warmto ski the Tangent,
so I let the day sift like fine sand,
or iron filings,
with the Silver Cat on my stomach and chest;
a warm, sleeping security
while I read aloud RESON, first stage,
though muttering silently, to myself,
to discover irregularities
before the upcoming printing,
such as awkward rhythms to feel through,
or not easily convinced formulations
that the text would be better off having removed
A thaw-weather anguish prevails,
and the snowfall stands like a Christmas-card hymn in the avenue
The intended three-hour ski tour
along the round we named the Tangent
– partly because it slips past
in the woods above the lake Sågdjupet –
does not happen today,
but yesterday we tracked it in its taxing entirety,
from the front steps down around the barn and out onto Norbäcksvägen,
which we hitch-rode for a short stretch,
before turning right past Västiträsket Lake
across the reindeer-grazing grounds up toward Sågdjupträsket Lake
and then left along a previously laid track
on an old timber trail, toward Långsmalmyren bog,
steeply up into a forest section,
and then further up
through a dense and hard-to-force height
overgrown with small woods,
where our earlier tracking ended
and the heavily resisting deep snow took over
with full force!
A few kilometres followed, first across the height,
from where we could see familiar, vast clear-cuts
in the slopes far across the valley,
below the mountain Snipen,
and then down on the other side,
where every step was a slow struggle,
in gasps and groans,
as the ski tips of the one leading
had to be lifted high and then driven down hard
to form the track, deep into the snow;
but we took turns leading,
and made our way down toward our landmark, the hunting tower,
which we soon located at a distance
through our perspiration-fogged glasses,
and from which a sapling-overgrown timber trail
offered firm, fairly even ground beneath the deep snow,
with Lillberget Mountain on the right side,
and the lowlands on the left
We more or less ploughed our way
through the deep powder snow on our touring skis
with the technique I have described earlier,
sweat flowing
in the five degrees below zero Celsius
Gradually –
when the timber trail beneath the snow
turned into a better timber road
that met us
and passed above Lillberget Mountain's steep rise,
with a more even surface beneath the snow cover,
without jungles of saplings to thread through –
the forcing became easier,
i.e., just as heavy regarding the snow’s depth
and resistance,
but with a consistent depth all the time
and a simple forcing method that applied throughout,
the one leading could work on
and apply their endurance in a more straightforward way
This stretch had moreover been prepared by a reindeer,
whose tracks we skied in,
for where the reindeer has passed the snow is more compressed,
which actually makes the track-laying substantially easier
Since the reindeer had zigzagged back and forth across the road,
any skiers who might follow in our track
will probably have something to ponder in the night!
We thus shared the tracking
and eventually reached the timber road
that runs up from the Norbäck homestead,
past the road we had come on,
and further the kilometres out to the turning point
above Gunnarsdjupträsket Lake,
to which we often ride MTB in summer
When we came out onto that road
the snow was not as deep,
since the road had evidently been ploughed
a few days earlier,
and to our surprise
a couple of people had laid a ski track there,
which we gladly stepped into
and swished down the long hill
to the bridge over Norbäcken Creek,
while cooling our sweaty bodies
a bit too much
We stopped
and put on more clothing,
which we had with us in our backpacks
Anna did as one should
in such situations:
took off sweaty clothes on her upper body
and put on dry ones,
while I simply pulled on a warm sweater
and the Mammut shell jacket
I had stuffed into my pack
Had we followed the recommended procedures perfectly,
we would of course have changed at the top of the hill,
before we rushed downward
As we now almost immediately passed
straight through the Norbäck farmyard,
I paused briefly
and chatted a little with the Norbäck man,
who uses the homestead as a holiday house
but lives permanently somewhere else,
and who was out shovelling
Then I caught up with Anna,
and now it became fast skiing
the four kilometres down to Noret,
the farm at Niemisel,
on the newly ploughed road,
which still had a thin layer of ice and snow
that allowed us to pole along
at considerable speed
Once home, we awarded ourselves,
66 and 76 years old,
a pass for the three-hour round
with its very heavy-tracked sections
Poetry by Ingvar Loco Nordin
Read 15 times
Written on 2025-12-07 at 15:45
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