My Norwegian Christmas Adventure Part 2: doing my best to be sporty on snow – cross-country ski touring, snowshoeing, and the absolute magic of the Northern Lights.
This post is about what happened once I’d found my place in the snow. I went cross-country ski touring across frozen lakes and into the Norwegian wilderness, snowshoeing through deep untouched snow, dog sledding at sunset, and stood under Northern Lights that felt almost impossibly generous. These were the days that stitched themselves into memory, the ones that felt expansive, elemental, and full of unexpected joy.
If you’ve been watching the vlogs, you’ll have seen all this unfold already. But here, in writing, I get to slow it down a little, to share the moments that didn’t make it into the camera roll.
If you haven’t already, please read part one here. And let’s pick up the trail again in Venabu, where the snow was deep, the air was sharp, and the adventures were really only just beginning.
A Bluebird Day to Remember
Christmas Eve was the day everything came together: the technique (ish), the confidence, the weather, the group energy. A full‑day ski tour sounds intimidating when you’re still very much a beginner, but the moment we stepped out into that snow-covered landscape under a bluebird sky, something in me lifted. The air was crisp, the light was soft, and the landscape opened in every direction – frozen lakes, rolling hills, distant mountains, everything bright and white. It felt like stepping into a postcard.
I’d started the morning feeling rough after a late night of Northern Lights watching and popcorn eating, one of those silly you‑had‑to‑be‑there evenings that becomes a memory in its own right. I worried I didn’t have the energy for a long ski day. But within twenty minutes of being back on my skis, my body remembered what to do. I’m grateful for the endurance and mindset I’ve built through long‑distance hiking over the years; it transferred beautifully into this week‑long cross‑country adventure. Slow, steady, keep moving, keep breathing.
Clumsy and Inefficient – But Doing It!
We moved (very) slowly and steadily, with plenty of stops for photos, snacks, and laughter. I found myself near the front most of the day, gliding along the machine‑made tracks, following the ones Ingrid made, and learning how to create my own in fresh snow. My technique was still clumsy and inefficient, for sure, but I was doing it. I felt my body begin to understand how to move forward without expending every ounce of energy I had. I skied across lakes, climbed gentle hills, and navigated descents that felt thrilling in the best way. To be honest, I also fell over several times, including when I was stood still, but who cares about that when you’re having fun?!
We stopped for lunch at a closed hut café that Ingrid had arranged for us to use, grateful for warmth and a place to take my boots off. I devoured the sandwiches I’d packed from the breakfast buffet, along with the almond cake the hotel always served (surely knowing we’d all sneak a slice for later). Then we carried on, deeper into the scene. The afternoon brought more climbs, more views, more moments where I caught myself smiling at nothing in particular.
Eight Kilometres of Joy
In total, we skied just under 8km and were out for around five hours; a gentle pace, lots of breaks, and the kind of day where the journey mattered far more than the distance. The weather helped: the best of the entire week. Clear skies, bright light, and visibility for miles. I pointed at various mountains in the middle-distance asking Ingrid if they were hikeable, and tried to repeat the names back to her; she relayed tails of ski tours with more advanced groups, and my appetite for more in this landscape was well and truly whetted.
It was also wonderful to see others out on the trails; some visitors like us, but also locals who clearly grew up on skis. Children barely taller than their poles glided past with effortless confidence. Older Norwegians moved with the kind of grace that comes from a lifetime of winter outdoors. It was humbling, inspiring, and a beautiful glimpse into the outdoorsy culture of Norway.
Near the end of the day, I found myself on my own for a stretch on fresh snow, with trees on either side, just me and the sound of my skis. It felt like a tiny personal adventure, a moment of bliss in the middle of a day already full of it. When I asked for new core memories this Christmas, I didn’t realise one would show itself so perfectly. Christmas Eve on skis, under a bluebird sky, in the mountains of Norway – a day I’ll carry with me for a very long time.
Hard Work, Headwinds, and a Huge Buzz!
Skiing on Christmas Day was the gift I’d given myself by booking this trip, a deliberate choice to make this Christmas unusual. But after the perfect bluebird weather of Christmas Eve, everything shifted overnight. It was warmer, windier, the snow softer and more slippery. The light was flat, the machine-made tracks drifted over in places, and the headwinds were no joke. It felt like the mountains had decided to test us a little, just to see what we’d learnt.
We warmed up with ski netball (chaotic, hilarious, surprisingly effective), then headed out along familiar tracks from earlier in the week. Seeing the landscape properly this time – without the fog – made it feel like a new route entirely. The views stretched out ahead, and even though the conditions were tougher, it was energising to recognise where we were and how far we’d come. I spent most of the morning skiing with Jenny, chatting, laughing, and exclaiming how beautiful the scenery was more than can be considered cool.
Midway through the morning, we stopped at a three‑sided hut with a firepit tucked into a dip in the landscape – a perfect little shelter from the wind. Ingrid lit the fire and we gathered around it with tea, chocolate, and the kind of chatter that only happens when everyone is slightly tired but very happy. After the full festivities of a Norwegian Christmas Eve, the group arrived at the day with wildly different energy levels, so a proper break was appreciated by all. It felt like a tiny slice of Norwegian friluftsliv – simple, outdoorsy, communal.
The Best Kind of Tired
After our break we retraced our steps (well, glides) a little before branching off towards the lake. By the time we reached it, half the group peeled off for the warmth of the hotel. Four of us stayed with Ingrid for an extra loop, and I’m so glad I was one of them. It was tough going with the headwind, which pushed back against my body to steal my momentum – and force me in whichever direction it chose. The effort made my cheeks burn and my heart race, but left me buzzing with pride. We weren’t fast, but we were determined, and that felt like a win.
When we finally skied back into the hotel, I was exhausted, very hungry (too hungry!), windswept, but absolutely thrilled. Spending Christmas Day on skis, in Norway, with women who felt like friends – that’s a memory I’ll carry for a long time. It wasn’t the easy, dreamy glide of Christmas Eve, but something better: a reminder that joy often lives in the effort, the grit, the shared challenge. A Christmas Day I chose on purpose, and one that gave me exactly what I needed.
We covered another 8km that day and were out for around five hours. It was the same distance as Christmas Eve, but a completely different kind of effort. And a lesson in truly earning the miles.
Snowshoeing Adventures
While cross‑country skiing was the main feature of this Gutsy Girls trip to Norway, there were a few other winter activities included as tasters, and one of those was snowshoeing. I came to Norway knowing I was going to enjoy this one. Close to my first love of hiking, it felt familiar before we’d even begun. I was looking forward to moving through this landscape on my own two feet, just winterised. I wore my usual hiking clothes and boots – my trusted Meindl Bhutans proving their worth with every step.
Our first snowshoe hike was on Boxing Day, a gentle introduction weaving through trees, climbing steep banks, descending narrow tracks, and discovering just how effective those big flappy shoes are at gripping the snow. It was hiking, but with added crunch, added effort, and added joy. I got hot quickly, worked hard, and loved every minute. There’s something deeply satisfying about snowshoeing – the steady pace, the soft thud of each step, the way you can wander almost anywhere the landscape allows.
That first outing took us through the forest, learning about the local flora and fauna as we went, tiny details of winter ecology I’d never have noticed on my own. We visited the same three‑sided hut we’d skied to the previous day, now approached from a different angle and with a different kind of effort. It was a lovely, steady few kilometres, enough to get warm, get tired, and get a taste of how snowshoeing can get you into the landscape.
A Bonus Frozen Waterfall
Then came the bonus adventure. A storm was forecast, so our host and guide joined forces to reshuffle the schedule, moving dog sledding forward and shortening the above mentioned snowshoe hike to accommodate that. But when our final day skiing was completely off the table due to the weather, we headed out again on snowshoes, this time for a decent 7-8km route to a partially frozen waterfall tucked deep in the forest.
The storm winds were challenging, especially when crossing open stretches of landscape where the gusts forced against us. But once we dropped into the trees, we were sheltered and protected, the forest acting like a windbreak. The storm had changed everything: the thick frost and snow that had coated the branches earlier in the week had vanished, leaving the trees standing somewhat bare, their winter finery blown away overnight. It felt like walking through a different world entirely.
Reaching the waterfall was worth every step. Ice formations clung to the rock, water threaded through the freeze, and the whole scene felt quietly magical. We found a sheltered spot with a sliver of sunshine and sat down for our picnic – sandwiches, snacks, warm drinks – all of it tasting better for being eaten outdoors in such a beautiful place. It was a pretty special lunch. Perfect, even.
Was it a shame that our last day of skiing had to be switched? A little. But this was such a suitable alternative that I wasn’t sad about it. Snowshoeing gave me a deeper connection to the landscape, and it reminded me how much I love moving through nature at walking pace.
I’d return to Venabu in summer in a heartbeat for more hiking. Gutsy Girls even run a summer version of this trip, and I’m very tempted.
Fairytale Green Skies
The Northern Lights were the quiet heartbeat of the first half of the trip, a thread running through our evenings, stitching each day together with a little extra fairytale magic. I already mentioned how they appeared on my very first night, but they didn’t stop there. It was as if the sky had decided to keep showing up for me. Not every night, but often enough that stepping outside after dinner felt like opening a gift. I took hundreds of photos of the green sky, each one slightly different, each one capturing a moment I didn’t want to forget.
But it wasn’t just the aurora itself that made those nights special. It was the people I shared them with, especially Jenny. She was (is) absolutely northern‑lights‑mad in the best possible way, her bubbling laughter infectious. She’d spot the faintest shimmer long before the rest of us, and her excitement pulled me along with it. I’m grateful to her for that. It was exactly the energy I needed: light, playful, full of wonder.
Most evenings, a handful of us would bundle up (discovering just how many coats a person can wear at once), grab our cameras, and head out into the cold. Sometimes it was the whole group; sometimes just two or three of us. Always laughter, always chatter, always that little gasp when the first hint of green appeared.
One night, the sky danced so brightly that we could see the pillars moving with the naked eye. Another night, we stayed out far too late, giggling like children, sharing snacks, taking photos, and marvelling at the stars. Midnight popcorn became an in‑joke. So did the ritual of checking the aurora apps every few minutes, even when we knew full well we should be in bed.
Holding Onto the Wonder
And then, when the weather turned on Christmas Day, the lights disappeared, as if the sky had decided its work was done. We didn’t see them again for the rest of the trip. But by then, the memories were already made. For me, the lights were hugely symbolic. They appeared on nights when I needed them most, saying you’re in the right place, and showed me just how beautiful the universe is. A message from above, I have no doubt.
Looking back on the ski tours, the snowshoeing, the frozen waterfall, the nights under the aurora, what stays with me most is the way nature shifted something inside me. Not in a dramatic, life‑altering way – no adventure can change the loss that I’ve experienced in recent months. Rather, in a quiet and steady way that reminds there is light to be carried even in the darkest times.
Being in and moving through that snowy landscape was good for me: the pace of skis on snow, the crunch of snowshoes in deep powder, the cold air that woke up every sense. Something grounding about the effort; the climbs, the headwinds, the wobbles, the falls, the getting‑back‑up. And something profoundly joyful about sharing it all with a group of women who laughed easily, encouraged generously, and made even the coldest nights feel warm.
Watch the Series
If you want to see these moments as they unfolded, all the daily videos from the trip are already up on my YouTube channel.
In part three I’ll chat about the rest of the Venabu magic; dog sledding, sleigh rides, saunas, ice plunges, Christmas traditions, and the friendships that made the whole week shine.
The Trip: Notes and Logistics
I booked the Cross-Country Ski and Yoga Retreat with Gutsy Girls, a company offering adventurous experiences in the outdoors for women. I researched and booked the trip myself.
The week was based at Venabu Fjellhotell, which sits on the Venabygdsfjellet plateau, on the edge of the Rondane National Park, Norway.
I flew from Heathrow to Oslo with BA, got the train from Oslo to Ringebu, where the Gutsy Girls part of the trip took over. After that, I spent three nights in Oslo on a city break before returning home.
If you are looking at this trip or something similar and want some travel information or tips, I’m very happy to help. Similarly, if you have any questions about the Gutsy Girls trip, learning to cross-country ski, or any of the other activities I did, even what I wore, then feel free to ask and I’ll do my best to be useful.
I would highly recommend Gutsy Girls as a company, this specific trip, Venabu, and Oslo, to you all.
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