Backcountry skiing in Norway: Between global lifestyle sport and national tradition

Abstract

This article examines the cultural and social dynamics of backcountry skiing in Norway, an activity positioned between global lifestyle sport and national tradition. We investigate the characteristics of lifestyle sports within their specific contexts and highlight the elements of identity politics and social belonging. Utilizing social phenomenology and nature dwelling as theoretical perspectives, we focus on the sensuous experiences of backcountry skiing, the way meaning is created through being in active engagement with nature, and the emotional spectrum in which backcountry skiing unfolds.

Through a methodology of embodied autoethnography, told from a skier–researcher perspective, this study generates and presents in-depth experiences through two contradictory in-situ vignettes from the winter mountains, shedding light on the dynamic processes of human–human and human–nature relationships in backcountry skiing. Most importantly, the study shows how the human–human relationship and the human–nature relationship are interrelated and how the perception and experience of nature are highly dependent on social dimensions among skiing partners. Our study demonstrates the potential for embodied autoethnography to enrich the understanding of lifestyle sports as unique experiences. This research contributes to an understanding of how backcountry skiing functions as a medium for both individual expression and communal belonging within the sociocultural context.

Introduction—Backcountry skiing and lifestyle sport

Skiing has a long and extensive history in Norway and is a significant identity marker for many Norwegians. For millennia, the Indigenous Sámi people as well as Norwegian farmers used skis for hunting, gathering, and transportation (Birkely, 1994; Huntford, 2008). National narratives about the Birkebeiners from the Viking era and explorers conquering the North and South Poles during the 19th century could not have been told without mentioning skis. Ski sport pioneers were important symbols in the building of a Norwegian national identity (Goksøyr, 1998; Gotaas, 2011; Huntford, 2008), especially after the adoption of Norway's constitution in 1814 and the dissolution of the union with Sweden in 1905 (Pedersen, 2014). A specific ski discipline that has grown to be among the most popular in the last decades is Randonnée skiing, which is performed out in ungroomed and mountainous terrain and is referred to as backcountry skiing. The literature on backcountry skiing (also called ski touring or ski mountaineering) is dominated by avalanche studies, including studies into managing avalanche risk, the effects of communicating and using avalanche warning bulletins, and how to stay safe while backcountry skiing.

Avalanche research has traditionally been a research field comprised by natural scientists such as glaciologists, geologists, and physicists seeking data on the characteristics of snowpack and the correlation between natural phenomena (weather, wind, and snowpack formation), but the focus on what is called “the human factor” has gained increased attention in recent years. In a systematic literature review into the human factors in avalanche decision making, Hetland et al. (2025) identified 70 eligible peer-reviewed studies, 56 of which have been published in the last 10 years. Their review includes studies into decision-making processes in avalanche terrain and education to prevent avalanche fatalities (e.g., Greene et al., 2025); risk communication from weather and avalanche forecasts as it is produced, communicated, and processed by the users (e.g., Fisher et al., 2022); and the use of avalanche equipment such as airbags that are supposed to keep the skier afloat on top of the snow if taken by an avalanche, transceivers that signal positions from beneath the snow, and how use of such avalanche safety equipment shapes attitudes to risk-taking (Lane and McIntosh, 2023).

Overall, given the fact that backcountry skiing often takes place in avalanche terrain, the above is apt and needed knowledge. However, the literature into human behavior when backcountry skiing is somewhat quantitative and psychologically oriented. In the aforementioned review, only nine studies applied qualitative methods, and none of these applied a sociological lens when researching recreational backcountry skiers (Hetland et al., 2025). ¹ The lack of sociological and ethnographic accounts leaves a gap within the research field, and the context-related voices from engaging in the activity are missing. Further, the review did not include any studies exploring the relational dynamic between humans and nature, and to our knowledge, there are no studies of backcountry skiing that scrutinize how people sense the experience or how they relate to other human beings and the natural environment when engaging in the activity.

In sociological terms, backcountry skiing shares some characteristics with lifestyle sports as proposed by Tomlinson et al. (2005). They distinguish lifestyle sports from mainstream sports by a focus on participation over spectating and a lack of regulation (sometimes even a refusal to follow rules), and they suggest that lifestyle sports involve a personal dimension of participation that goes beyond success as measured by competitions. Lifestyle sports are often considered dangerous or risky insofar as they might include “extreme locations, extreme emotions, transgression and extreme skills” (p. 2). Although Green (2010) is skeptical to the concept of lifestyle sport because “it seems to exaggerate the distinction between lifestyle and conventional sports” (p. 112), we find merit in the work of, for example, Wheaton (2013) when positioning backcountry skiing in the lifestyle sportscape (see pp. 28–30, for features of lifestyle sports). Wheaton (2000, 2010, 2013) has demonstrated how the growth in consumption and representation has developed and has offered valuable insights into the cultural elements and politics of non-institutionalized activities.

Moreover, Wheaton and Thorpe (2022) have shown how participants in action sports ² undergo negotiations through processes of “sportization of the antisport” (Ch. 8) and a “paradoxical journey from alternative lifestyle to Olympic sport” (Ch. 9) when considering skateboarding and surfing, respectively. Overall, lifestyle sports challenge traditional understandings of how sport is constituted and defined. While Wheaton (2015) and others (e.g., ÓConnor, 2018; Sisjord, 2015; Wheaton and Thorpe, 2022) have developed a thorough knowledge of the cultures and politics of lifestyle sports, more research is needed regarding “the political potential of these subcultural formations but also to link identity politics to broader structural forces, exposing power and inequality both within and between these formations” (Wheaton, 2015, p. 637). In that respect, Wheaton (2015) emphasizes “researchers’ responsibility to tease out how particular discourses are made meaningful by people, and reveal who is included and excluded discursively, materially and spatially” (p. 638).

Although there are exceptions (Wheaton and Thorpe, 2022, pp. 15–16), the lifestyle sport literature lacks of studies simultaneously focusing on the relationships between humans and the relationships between humans and nature at the same time. Although we principally acknowledge that nature is an omnipresent and complex phenomenon (humans are, e.g., part of the natural world), here, it refers to the undeveloped material environment, particularly snow-covered mountainous terrain. This article considers Norwegian skiing and global lifestyle sports as merging in the form of backcountry skiing, and thus, this article contributes to the sociology of lifestyle sports by presenting the development of Norwegian backcountry skiing in the 2020s. The article focuses on the two main characteristics of backcountry skiing. First, it takes place in nature, and backcountry skiing involves walking up snow-covered mountains and skiing back down. Second, backcountry skiing is predominantly social, and most people ski in groups, which is crucial for how skiers approach the snowy mountains (Mannberg et al., 2021a, 2021b; Skille, 2024). We particularly contribute to the increased interest in natural arenas where people can control their thrill seeking, and similar to big-wave surfing (Corte, 2022) and river paddling (Campbell et al., 1993), backcountry skiing takes place in natural and ungroomed terrain (Hetland et al., 2018).

Against this background, we pose the following research question: “What are the dynamics of human–nature and human–human relationships among recreational backcountry skiers in Norway?”

Our investigation into backcountry skiing allows us to introduce the activity into the sociological dialogues of lifestyle sports. Further, our research question is important because it scrutinizes the two main elements of what makes backcountry skiing (and therefore lifestyle sports), both fun and potentially dangerous, as humans—very often in groups—interplay with nature. Introducing a sociological approach to the understanding of how backcountry recreationalists play in nature, we help fill a gap in the avalanche research literature while also developing an ethnographic methodology designed to address such issues.

In the next section of this article, we contextualize the study before we outline the theoretical framework, which is encompassed by social phenomenology and a sensitivity to the natural world. This is followed by a presentation of ethnographic fieldwork, including the positioning of the ethnographer (Tarjei Tveito). The Results—An abundance of backcountry skiing experiences section comprises two empirical vignettes that bring the reader into situations of backcountry skiing where sensory impressions regarding human–nature and human–human relations are experienced. We deliberately aimed to be free and playful during the empirical presentation in order to resemble skiing itself and minimize the conceptual barriers between activity practitioners and the readers (of whom many are non-skiers, we presume). Thereafter, we discuss empirical descriptions that promote a more analytical understanding of the skier, and then, we conclude and present some possible directions for future work.

Context—Backcountry skiing in northern Norway

As in many other places in the world (Europe, North America, Asia, and South America), skiing in Norway today is an outdoor activity that is undertaken for fun and recreation (Breivik and Skille, 2012; Skille and Pettersen, 2016). In Norway, the mountains have never been more frequently visited in wintertime because the development of user-friendly equipment has enabled “everyone” to venture into the winter mountains (Engeset et al., 2018; Skille, 2024). As per the first author's own experiences from Tromsø (the northernmost university city in Norway and at the base of the infamous Lyngen Alps) and its mountainous surroundings, there has been a growing attraction and increasing variety of people drawn to backcountry skiing over the past decade (Skille, 2024; Berbeka, 2018; Engeset et al., 2018). ³ The region is among the most renowned areas for backcountry skiing in the world (Mayer et al., 2023) and thus is useful for doing ethnographic fieldwork on the phenomenon. In other words, the location where people reside and have their “backyard” is a guiding factor for the social and natural experiences they have while backcountry skiing.

Personal experiences influence people's perception of the world, and a sense of place is essential for interpreting and connecting meaning to these experiences (Marshall, 2011). This sense is associated with a need for autonomous control of adrenaline seeking, risk, and achievement. Thus, backcountry skiing may include risk because it often takes place in steep avalanche terrain (Frühauf et al., 2017), and backcountry skiing can be considered as an “extreme sport” due to the risk of injury or death (Breivik, 2004; see also Wheaton, 2010). Since the season of 2008/2009, ⁴ one-third of avalanche accidents in Norway have occurred in Troms County (Aasen, 2021), which was the geographical location of this study. The normalization of steep skiing, an increasing number of backcountry skiers, better equipment, and easier access to the mountains have all increased the potential for fatal accidents. Backcountry skiing involves uncontrollable elements such as weather and snow, which in steep enough terrain brings an accompanying risk of avalanches (Hetland et al., 2025; Schweizer et al., 2003).

Theory—Sensory phenomenology and meaning making in nature

With an overarching perspective of culture analysis, this section serves two purposes: it is both a preparation for the embodied autoethnographic method presented next and a framework for subsequent analysis of the empirical observations presented in the Discussion section. While meaning making is at the core, this article explores the skier in relation to touring partners (human–human) and in relation to their surroundings (human–nature). In that respect, we apply a social phenomenological and sensory approach combined with theories on nature perception. Specifically, we employ theories about social construction of meaning (Jackson, 2017; Stoller, 1997) and Ingold's (2000) dwelling perspective. While classic (philosophical) phenomenology considers a first-person perspective of human consciousness (Heidegger, 1971), social scientific phenomenology understands human beings as integrated with their environment (Jackson, 1996). Hence, sensory perspectives focus on emotional experiences (Stoller, 1997), meaning that senses are the primary organizers of human experiences and interpretations of the world. Social relationships and shared experiences are rooted in the senses; thus, belonging to a community constitutes the main attraction to skiing and backcountry ski touring (Skille, 2024).

Stoller (1989, 1997) argues that the senses are the ultimate tool for conveying meaning and that collective memories are maintained through rituals containing performative elements. Performativity here refers to actions that are observable, judgeable, and potentially valued by peer skiers (cf. Rinehart, 1998, 2007, on performative elements and lifestyle sport). Thus, on a performative stage such as a ski tour, we can observe how emotions are expressed and considered as responses to understandings of the world. The performative elements that Stoller (1989, 1997) advocates are relevant to adrenaline-pumping sports, as Corte (2022) demonstrated in his study of big-wave surfers, where the sensory use of the body is the premise for the activity and for meaning-making. The same goes for the performative elements for belonging, and Jackson (2017) elaborates on how human relationships function in the creation of meaning and how they are constantly evolving and are crucial for sociality.

Moreover, relationships are significant for the development and maintenance of cultural patterns (Jackson, 2017). Relationships include the processes of adaptation between the impulsive, sensory experiences, and how the expression of these experiences abides by norms, rules, and expectations. Thus, Jackson (2017)—and we—aim at analyzing how human experiences and individual expressions of meaning can be conveyed socially. The emphasis on how group constellations relate to interdependent expectations is fruitful for the analysis of the social skier; thus, we illuminate how life worlds are created and understood (Jackson, 2017) among skiers by examining the relationships between people and between people and nature.

This interaction regards both thrilling opportunities and potential risks that stem from the natural environment itself (e.g., steepness) as well as how the skier chooses to relate to that environment (e.g., entering steep terrain where avalanches can occur). Given the significance of the skier's perception of the natural surroundings, we employ Ingold's nature-sensitive perception theory to analyze human–nature relationships. “The dwelling perspective” (Ingold, 2000) is (as was Jackson's above) based on Heidegger's (1971) phenomenology and focuses on practical approaches toward nature, and a key element of their perspective is that humans are incorporated into nature (Ingold, 1980, 2000). This resonates well with the study of recreational skiers in Norwegian mountains today because a condition for human existence is the integration into a lifeworld of meaning making through practical interactions with natural environments; a process that occurs and continuously develops alongside human activities in specific natural contexts.

Backcountry skiing takes place on non-managed and ungroomed snowy hills, and thus being immersed in the surroundings is a prerequisite to travel safely on nature's terms. Considering the backdrop of accident statistics (Aasen, 2021), the dwelling perspective is particularly interesting in backcountry skiing because risk assessment is essential when interacting with nature. The dangers occur when people fail to read the signals nature emits (Broch and Kalland, 2004). In the analysis of skiers’ relationships with each other and with nature, we apply Stoller's and Jackson's phenomenological theories for the former and Ingold's conceptual apparatus for the latter, with the overall aim to analyze human–human and human–nature relationships. This theoretical perspective is the integrated approach of the embodied autoethnography presented next.

Method—Embodied autoethnographic fieldwork

The first author conducted fieldwork over four ski seasons (November–May 2020/2021–2023/2024) in the mountains around Tromsø. In total, he followed over 50 touring partners in various group compositions, himself doing more than 100 ski trips. Many fieldwork trips were conducted with friends and existing networks, partly a result of the coronavirus outbreak that forced researchers to adapt their ethnographic methods (Espinoza, 2022). Consequently, recruitment of research participants was mainly based on existing relationships with established communication patterns and group dynamics. Nevertheless, the (somewhat forced) approach had its advantages in that the researcher's participation was less likely to bias the results because their status as a researcher was downplayed. This impression was reinforced by the small number of new ski partners who seemed to be more “on their toes” and to engage in behavior that they assumed to be “correct” for the research results (cf. Jerolmack and Khan, 2014). Because established relationships consist of ingrained patterns, roles, and a common basis of expectations and understanding, his's positioning was crucial for data collection and analysis and for the dissemination of the results.

The autoethnographic approach taken in this study makes room for the active use of personal experience in a social and cultural context (Ellis et al., 2011; Reed-Danahay, 2009). Because the researcher's senses and experiences are important to the generation of the empirical material (Pink, 2009), autoethnography is apt for studying activities where the relationships between humans and nature and between humans are central elements. There are examples of the use of an ethnographic approach to research lifestyle sports and embodied experiences in nature, such as surfing (Olive et al., 2016), windsurfing (Humberstone, 2023), and skateboarding (Sayers, 2023). Inspired by Wacquant (2004), Corte (2022) used a similar approach referred to as “a carnal approach of embodied ethnography” (p. 6) in his studies of big wave surfers. Just as Corte (2022) investigated dangerous fun through detailed elaborations from the waves, demonstrating the importance of the senses for their perception of nature and of their belonging to a collectivity of surfers, Tarjei Tveito conducted an embodied autoethnography of backcountry skiing.

Inspired by the embodied methods in the study of other lifestyle sports (i.e., wet ethnography in surfing and rolling ethnography in skateboarding), we suggest calling the ethnographic methods particular to the ungroomed snow-covered mountains where backcountry skiing takes place “steep snowy ethnography.” This approach relies on the active use of personal experiences from the skiable mountains to convey the dynamics and sensuous aspects of the activity (herein the relations between humans and between humans and nature). In so doing, the first author reduces the conceptual barriers between the social sciences and (other) skiers to create an expanded understanding of the skiers’ perspectives of each other and of nature.

Nevertheless, the first author's embodied autoethnography and proximity can pose challenges, such as creating descriptions biased by familiarity with the field and the research participants. This can partly be compensated for by awareness and reflexivity, but by adding the second author with a critical gaze, the proximity is considered advantageous because the closeness gives the empirical depictions a credible weight (Chang, 2008). This “balancing act” of lively closeness and critical distance among the authors prevented other challenges associated with autoethnographic accounts, such as being considered too literary and not being sufficiently anchored in fieldwork and other scientific methods (Ellis et al., 2011). However, the free and experiential style of dissemination does not necessarily undermine the scientific grounding of the method. The key is that the contribution can benefit and contribute to a dialogue with and within multiple disciplines, including the lifestyle sport segments of sport sociology (e.g., Corte, 2022; Rinehart, 1998, 2007; Sisjord, 2015; Wheaton, 2000, 2010, 2013, 2015; Wheaton and Thorpe, 2022).

To ensure that the momentary feelings and experiences were captured and preserved, the first author made extensive field notes immediately after each trip. In addition to personal experiences and descriptions thereof, he captured the participants’ reactions and sensory experiences as soon as possible after observation. For member checking, the participating skiers read through the researcher's descriptions of the respective trips and were invited to comment on their experiences. The empirical data, as it now stands, thus seeks to reflect the tour groups’ experiences, even though it is told through the first author's eyes and written by the two authors. Both the empirical variations of ski tours and the selection presented in the results followed a logic of situational diversity (Zerubavel, 2021, pp. 31–35), and we thus aimed “to uncover formal parallels across situations conventionally considered fundamentally ‘different’ from one another” (p. 55, original italics).

Results—An abundance of backcountry skiing experiences

Among the over 100 ski tours conducted as part of the overarching fieldwork (Skille, 2024), there were obvious similarities and variations. All of them included Tarjei Tveito touring with a group of skiers in backcountry terrain, where the interrelational bonds guided the assessments, decisions, and actions taken in the natural environment. In this sense, all tours were eligible for analysis in attempting to answer the objectives of the research questions.

Some of the tours, however, showcased the sensuous experiences more strongly than others and clearly displayed how various groups and situations play into how the terrain and surroundings are experienced and acted upon. Thus, as indicated, the rationale for the choice of ski tours presented here was based on (i) their potential to demonstrate differences in human–nature and human–human relationships and not least the interplay between them and (ii) the fact that they were somewhat linked. ⁵ While both empirical descriptions include elements and emotions that shed light on human–nature and human–human relationships, they emphasize somewhat contradictory sensory experiences. The relations between the touring partners are important for the progression of the tours, and the environmental surroundings are interpreted in connection with the group's composition. This reciprocity (of human/human and human/nature) is important for the holistic understanding of the skier, and the subsequent discussion will be based on these dimensions. The voice narrating the stories from the backcountry ski tours is that of the first author (before we return to a common voice in the Discussion section).

Vignette 1—Sunrise and success

“It´s nearby guys. The sun, it will rise over there, above Jiehkkevárri. ⁶ ” It was an hour past midnight, and we had been out for 4 hours already. We found ourselves at 1800 meters altitude, and all tours in this area start at sea level and are so-called “sea-to-summit”. The day before, every member of the group had – like all of Norway – been parading in the streets with Norwegian flags, celebrating National Day (May 17^th). Now, the gala was swapped for the modern skier's uniform: Gore-Tex clothing, plastic ski boots, and fiberglass skis. With wild and endless landscapes and snowy mountains in all directions, combined with stars clinging to the sky above, it was like a scene from a Norwegian fairytale.

A feeling of humility of “just” being human took hold. The air was cold, and frosty smoke shot out from the mouths of the hooded faces. We were four friends, shoulder to shoulder, trembling in our longing for warmth. The expectant gazes were set on the massive mountain on the other side of the glacier, waiting for the imminent sunrise. Cheeks were numb, and fingers had no feeling. It was May, and summer was just two weeks ahead (according to the calendar), but at high altitude in the Arctic, it was still full winter. No one said a word, and it was like time stood still. The silence encapsulated the friendship within the group, and there was trust in the lack of sound. “In this freezing cold, awaiting the sunrise, I feel safe,” I thought.

A sunrise starts long before the sun itself appears. First, the light changes, brightening in its prominence with each passing second. Gradually, the mountains come to life as the sunbeams crawl higher, painting up on the mountain's surface in soft orange, silky pink, and golden yellow. Soon after the light comes the warmth. Frostbitten cheeks soften, and stiff limbs become functional again. The emotional process is as intense as the sunrise. Before the sun revealed itself, anticipation surrounded us. The humbleness of being outdoors created a feeling of invincibility. We felt adventurous, better than the rest of the world, and more Norwegian because we had extended the celebration of national identity by bringing ourselves here. Everything intensified in that last waiting moment – the surroundings, the humility, the friendship. It was as if time ceased, we all held our breath – no one said a word, no one even made a sound – as the sun found its place on the nightly sky. Pride. Euphoria. Magic. Sunrise over Jiehkkevárri (see Figure 1).

Figure 1.

The sun rising over the Jiehkkevárri massif. Down in the shadow is the glacier Sydbreen, where the glacier run from Balggesvárri ends. Photo: First author.

The initial plan was to ski down a glacier run (a run that involves skiing to or on a glacier), but this was changed due to an observed avalanche fracture line that indicated risk, combined with a feeling of satisfaction with this ski trip already. We removed the skins (artificial fur placed under the skis that grip the snow and allow one to move upwards) and strapped them to our backpacks. We thanked the sun for an unforgettable show and prepared for the descent. I watched how my partners elegantly floated effortlessly down the flank. The turns left beautiful traces in the surface, and loose snow sprayed behind them. Their cheers of joy felt everlasting when echoing between the mountains. The terrain was gentle and safe all the way, and very few – if any – short stretches were on the edge of what is called the release area for avalanches. It does not need to be steep to be good. This was probably my best skiing experience of the season.

With ear-grinning smiles, we came to a stop. We hugged, high-fived, and shouted superlatives about the experience. As we lifted our ski goggles, sunken eyes and drooping faces were revealed. This visual reminder of the time being the middle of the night enhanced the joy of the experience, and the weary looks confirmed that the four of us shared something special this night. We were empty of energy and felt as if we were returning from an expedition when we approached the parking lot. After a formative journey through the wilderness and with strengthened relationships, we returned to the “civilized” world. The rest of the country was presumably still asleep as we embarked in the car and left this adventurous ski trip and night behind us. “Thanks for this, guys. This one will stick with us for a while. Let's head back so I can make it to work,” said the driver with a smile as he swung onto the road to go home.

Overall, this trip was highlighted by strong positive emotions, and when the party of four gathered together years later and reminisced about that night, only positive superlatives were used to describe their individual feelings, the comradery, and the nature (e.g., silky snow and warm sun), all of which provided “perfect skiing conditions.” Herein, the massive mountain surroundings were experienced as a safe arena for conducting backcountry skiing, where the interrelation between skiers heavily contributed to the positive experience. The group composition affected how nature and the surroundings were perceived, as will be demonstrated by an outline of another ski tour to the same area.

Vignette 2—Pressure and pride

“I think this is the day. Just the two of us, back for redemption. Glacier run at Balggesvárrí; we got this.” One of my best friends and trusted touring partners was cheering us on. He was grinning and could not hide his excitement. His mood was infectious, but simultaneously, something uneasy was building up inside of me. Understanding where we were heading, I did not like everything that came with it. “Today we got it,” I echoed him. We started skiing into the valley, and his setup revealed that we were aiming for adventures. He wore his harness already, a rope was strapped on top of his pack, a walkie-talkie hung on his backpack strap, and the ice axe was glimmering in the sunlight. Again, the realization of where we were headed filled me with ambivalence. I felt excitement, fear, and expectation.

With no other tracks, we had to break trail (walking in front to make the first tracks in untouched snow) by taking turns in front. “The snow is completely different this year,” he said at a snack stop. I made a snow profile (a visual check of the snowpack structure to detect layering or weaknesses that can inform about snow stability) and did not detect any immediate signs of avalanche risk. I looked at his smile breaking out when I confirmed that “the snow seems much safer today, indeed.” “I really feel good about this,” he said. I smiled, but as he handed the rope over for me to carry for the second half of the trip, I also felt the weight of expectation. The snow was one element, and it felt safe for now. But my biggest challenge was the fear of steepness, exposure, and letting my partner down. “Let's keep going,” I said.

As per Vignette 1, we had been here before, with the same goal as today, some years earlier, with two other friends. Because we skipped the glacier run last time due to avalanche risk, we did not want to “miss” this time. However, my tolerance for exposure and steepness had decreased. A few weeks after the superb experience of vignette # 1, I had a dreadful fall that became an embodied memory. Going down a narrow couloir (a narrow gulley – often with a steep gradient – which is so-called “high-consequence” terrain), I lost both skis and control and slid 400 meters down the icy mountain. Although suffering no major physical injuries, my psyche was shaken. After that, exposure to steepness felt very uncomfortable. The relationship with my ski partner on the day of the accident had evolved into romance, and having someone to “come home to” had influenced my approach to the mountains and my experience of risky terrain. The ambivalence rustled within me. During the second half of the climb, we did not speak much, just pushing one ski in front of the other.

Nevertheless, the sights around us were spectacular: pointy peaks, glacial plateaus, crevasses, and icefalls. The top plateau's postcard motifs and my partner's silhouette with Jiehkkevárrí in the background made me feel immensely small. “Good work, buddy,” I smiled when he gave me a high five. “Now, what do you think?” he asked eagerly. I replied: “It looks steep. And exposed. And scary.” “I’ll pop down and have a look. Don’t need the rope, I’ll just crampon down. If it's safe, I will not let us turn around this time,” he stated and added reassuringly, “You’ve got this, it will be great.” He might have noticed my hesitation. He climbed out of sight (see Figure 2), while I stood looking down at the bottom half of the run. The line itself is majestic. The entry is steep but opens nicely up and ends in an icefall that drops 50 meters (see Figure 3, if continuing straight down instead of making the turn). It is referred to as a ‘no-fall zone’ (a fall can cause injury).

Figure 2.

Balggesvárri plateau and drop: the beginning of the ski run (top of red line in figure 3). Photo: First author.

Figure 3.

Balggesvárri glacier run. The icefall drop is in the middle of the face. Photo: Nikolai Schirmer.

To avoid falling, skiers on the run follow a narrow traverse. From above, the run looked like certain death. One could barely see the traverse, and it was impossible to say anything about the conditions farther down. My heartbeat was intense as I imagined myself sliding off the icefall, when my partner's voice appeared: “Yes buddy. The snow is stable, there are perfect steep-ski conditions, and no tracks.” “What about the exposure, the traverse?” I nervously asked. “It looks good. We really don’t have an excuse not to. I think we owe it to ourselves to do this.” I was a bit more hesitant but replied: “Let's do it.” We got into skiing mode, while I was haunted by scary memories.

My ski edges and ice axe clung to the snow as I followed his tracks, stepping into the line. I was trembling, and my muscles were working hard. “You’re doing great man. Slow and steady, from here we can start skiing,” he shouted from 20 meters down. It felt like climbing down a wall, and it pretty much was. The entry felt everlasting, but I finally reached him, and my heartbeat slowed down. Skiing was what I felt comfortable doing, and from this point, I would try to enjoy it. “First or last?” he asked. “You go first, I’ll feel safest following,” I replied. “Let's do safe-spot to safe-spot. Enjoy buddy. Stay safe.” I pushed imaginations about fatal scenarios away and focused on doing the turns right. Dancing in my partner's tracks, I fell into a trance-like state, not panicking over the icefall getting closer. “Wow, this is majestic terrain. And the snow is amazing,” I said when we stopped.

The icefall was just below us, and chunks of glacier ice were surrounding us. However, it was like my fear was left on the wall above. I actually – to my surprise – enjoyed being here, although exposed. The snow was brilliant for steep skiing, like glued to the mountain, with no avalanche risk. “Last bit – are you ready?” he said and glanced towards the traverse. “I’ll lead,” he continued and slid downwards. When he was safe from the icefall, he signalled to me to follow. Slowly, I maneuvered myself across the no-fall zone. The drop did not even catch my eye, as I was in my own little bubble. His back was facing me when I reached him. “Thank God, you made it. I didn’t dare to watch,” he said before he grinned and hugged me. Then he gentlemanly swung his arm to indicate that the first tracks of the last section were mine.

I cheered in excitement as I skied down and let gravity bring me onto the glacier. From the innermost parts of my body and mind, it was a heartfelt cheer filled with pride, redemption, and relief. As I welcomed my partner at the runout, I had tears in my eyes, and my arms were spread for the best hug I have ever given and received. “We did it man. And I really enjoyed this. Thanks for pushing me!” Looking back at this trip with my tour partner, there were emotions of joy and feelings of redemption after turning around earlier and a sense of fulfillment by conquering the challenging terrain and a growth in friendship through trust and collective mastery. In the aftermath, we received much recognition in skiing communities for completing this descent after my ski partner posted a summary of our day on his social media channel.

Discussion

The empirical vignettes build on an understanding of how meaning is created through experiences rooted in social relations and sensing of nature. Nevertheless, they comprise two rather contrasting narratives about these relationships, although the ski tours unfolded in the same geographical area. In the first vignette, the comradeship and the interplay with nature were both considered exclusively and undoubtedly nice, while the second vignette combined negative feelings stemming from social expectations and natural conditions; the steep surface included icy sections that were perceived as obstacles—physically, mentally, and socially. The point is that both vignettes comprise combinations of human–nature and human–human relationships, and the latter including elements of collectivity and performance.

As per Vignette 1, the skiers’ cheers of joy were manifested in how Mother Nature herself responds to the joyful verbal expressions by offering an echo and hence an environment for dwelling. The echo is initiated by human voices; thus, we follow Ingold (2000) on how active participation is needed to dwell in nature—“The world is not a matter of construction, but of engagement, not of building but of dwelling, not a making of a view of the world, but of taking up a view in it” (Ingold, 2000, p. 42). The ski turns are compared to dancing, and the performative elements of skiing are emphasized, following Stoller (1997), as being the basis for the experienced emotion. Simultaneously, and the other way around, through these performative elements, emotions are expressed; for example, in the way one can describe ski partners elegantly and effortlessly riding down on silky snow, where simple turns followed by loose snow spray were seen as beautiful—as were the traces they left on the surface.

Through active participation with the constituents of the world (nature: mountainous terrain, snowy conditions, and weather; and humans: fellow skiers), the world becomes a place of meaning. The bodily use in performance is a premise for skiing being the meaningful way of inhabiting a lifeworld as skiers find it, and hence human existence as immersed in nature (Ingold, 1996; e.g., skiers on the snowy mountain). Without any risks attached, the first ski tour was purely positive due to sensuous descriptions of the sunrise, the sun's heat and light, and the dance on skis experiences that were conducted in togetherness and that therefore—following Jackson (2017)—make them meaningful in the interaction between personal emotions and social interaction. Considering ski tours as rituals, we argue that “in textualization the body [it] is robbed of its movements, odors, tastes, sounds—its sensuousness, all of which are potent conveyers of meaning” (Stoller, 1997, p. 59).

The sensory experiences of skiing on snow-covered mountains (human/nature) are enhanced by the unity and solidarity with other skiers (human/human). By being together in a group, skiing as an individual skill is perceived as meaningful by the way multiple individuals—and the right composition of them—create collectivity. While Stoller (1997) argues that “collective memories are evoked through the senses, from sentiments so elemental that they are beyond constraints of text” (p.75), the first ski tour evokes this collectivity in seeing the sun rise together and the adventurous feeling of being out in the numbing cold of the winter night, a perception of unity that builds on the previous night's national collectivity. The niceness of Vignette 1 was reinforced with the element of national celebration, in which (for many Norwegians) nothing compares with snow and skiing (Goksøyr, 1998; Gotaas, 2011; Pedersen, 2014).

With Ingold (2000), one might say that the first vignette reflects a pride building and dwelling experience because it is “through being inhabited that the world becomes a meaningful environment for people” (p. 173) and because it implies that national identity is deeply ingrained in skiing and is associated with a presence in nature as something uniquely Norwegian and of national historical significance. Pride and value are created through the skiers’ interaction with nature, not by simply being in nature but being active in it; the research participants “dwell” as they sense and therefore experience nature through skiing. The national romantic element enhances the experience, especially the positive and good feelings, in the mountainous landscape and thus represents a unique and context-dependent dwelling experience. In that respect, the national romantic element represents another layer of the human–human relationship.

Similarly, and simultaneously somewhat contrarily, Vignette 2 demonstrates the relevance and importance of human–human relationships, on another end and on several layers. For one thing, the dyad of the ski partners “forced” the researcher (the autoethnographer's voice in the empirical vignettes) to experience some of nature's harshness. For another, there are several third parties involved. The relationship with his girlfriend influenced both the ski partner relationship and the nature relationship during Vignette 2 in a stressful way. The relationships with other friends and the local ski milieu are somewhat positive, given the assigned credibility after completing the performance of Vignette 2 (given its skill demand). Despite the “happy ending” with a sense of relief in overcoming obstacles (physical, mental, and social), the ambiguous emotions stemming from a combination of social and natural environments are undeniable—and expressed in the sensuous (cf. Jackson, 2017; Stoller, 1989, 1997).

While there are multiple expressions of “positive” senses in the first vignette (e.g., cheers of joy and a feeling of invincibility) and exemplify how the emotions are centered, the apparatus of “negative” emotions in conveying experiences is as rich in the second vignette (e.g., trembling and rising heartbeat). The richness in emotional expressions and the sense of belonging that emerges from the bonds between the skiers in Vignette 2 resonate with Stoller's (1989) argument of the senses being a tool in experience and embodied meaning-making. This leads to a particular element of the analysis, namely that some of the apparently most individual and subjective feelings humans can experience are social. Following Corte (2022), we understand fun as a social phenomenon, joy is founded on community, and voluntarily doing something potentially risky is enhanced by friendship. In his ethnographic approach to understand big-wave surfers—his wet ethnography, if you will—he poetically summarizes how surfers experience fun: “While efforts are singular, the outcome is collective” (Corte, 2022, p. 244), which resonates well with how skiers feel about skiing.

The experience of skiing in the company of established relationships feels incomparable with emotions that can be found in other arenas of life. That is not to say that other areas of life lack emotions or that skiing-related emotions are all good. As per Vignette 2, established relationships do not necessarily encompass only positive feelings. The strong relationship between the researcher and the skiing partner created uncommunicated elements of expectation that were difficult to oppose. Although a relatively fresh near-death experience entailed an underlying fear of risk (that made the senses tense), the tight long-term relationship with the skiing partner combined with the specific incident of turning around from the same glacier run once before (cf. Vignette 1) created expectations to overcome fear. However, the two skiers, being just that—two good friends together with an extensive shared history of skiing—was in the end what led to a successful outcome of skiing this particular route.

Through the negotiation between the ski partners, the skiing experience became what Jackson (2017) calls a socially constructed meaningful lifeworld. In that respect, Corte's (2022) study of surfers in Hawaii, where he emphasizes the group cohesion achieved through joint participation in risky activities, again resonates well with backcountry skiing. Although surfing and skiing are individual activities, the relevance of the collective is prominent, which is portrayed in both empirical vignettes. Thus, we emphasize the value of the methodological approach employed in this article, which is closely connected to the theoretical approaches. There are many opportunities to create knowledge in the rich world of activity, and we have demonstrated that embodied autoethnography is one of them. In both vignettes, the skiers are immersed in nature; by their presence in the mountainous terrain, the natural environments become the meaningful lifeworld and the sensory arena the skiers long for. Both of the interaction axes—human/human and human/nature—are experienced and expressed through emotions, whether they are stress and fear, mastery of skills, joy, or even euphoria. Using a nature-perceiving and social phenomenological approach, we have described the skier in connection with the environment they operate.

Conclusion

The simple answer to the research question (How are the human–nature and human–human relationships among backcountry skiers in Norway?) is that they vary. The relationship between individual human beings varies, from the first empirical vignette and the group of exclusively positive experiences, reciprocal support, and even celebration, to the second vignette's social pressure between the two skiers. The human–nature relationship also differs, from the exclusively positive-perceived expressions of nature in the first empirical vignette to the more challenging perception of nature in the second vignette. In the second vignette, there are several ambivalences. One is connected to the ski partner, who both pushes and trusts the researcher. Another regards the perception of nature, experienced as steep and icy, that affects the feeling of one's own capability, bothered by flashbacks to former (negative) experiences in similar conditions. A third relates to how a negative experience can have positive effects in an overarching ski milieu. These significant variations in relations—both within groups of skiers and between skiers and nature—indicate avenues of possibilities to investigate and unpack the dynamics of different backcountry skiing groups. To get a wider understanding of a multifaceted backcountry skier, one should research geographic differences to determine if and how access to mountains might influence the investigated dynamics, the role of social media and influence through self-controlled online visual representations, or the gender imbalance in various ski milieus.

While one key point is that these relationships (human–human and human–nature) are interrelated, another is that both theoretical and methodological approaches have been crucial to grasp the embodied experience of the real world as is outlined in the empirical vignettes. Through empirical depictions of ski tours in the winter mountains, we have demonstrated the utility of the respective perspectives in creating knowledge about lifestyle sport participants, emphasizing the existence of in-situ and dynamic processes that shape the understanding and perception of the natural environment of the respective activities (here, backcountry skiing). We have coined the term “steep snowy ethnography” for this particular version of embodied autoethnographic work, which we consider a contribution of the article in itself. In that respect, we have responded to Wheaton's (2013) call for a “need to consider … the particular lifestyle sport itself, its specific characteristics and ethos [and] its contextual (historical and temporal) location” (p. 185) and simultaneously have followed an established ethnographic method that allows for descriptions of experiences from lifestyle communities (cf. Corte, 2022, Wheaton, 2000, 2015).

This article contributes to understanding a multifaceted backcountry skier and adds attention to the growing interest in the human elements of the backcountry skiing literature (Hetland et al., 2025) through an autoethnographic approach. The empirical accounts from the winter mountains also showcase the benefits of a sociological lens that allows for the situations to be described as they are experienced by the skiers themselves (here, Tarjei Tveito) and to scrutinize how the senses guide the relational dynamic between humans and nature. Given the position of this study and the scrutinized activity, this article contributes to understanding multifaceted lifestyle sport participants in general.

However, backcountry skiing recreationists encompass many more people than those who ski steep terrain or who spend expedition-like days outdoors, as is described here. More research is needed to describe the position of the backcountry skier in the wider lifestyle sport or action sport literature of sport sociology. For example, there is a need to untangle gender issues and investigate power relations within lifestyle sport contexts (Malterud et al., 2023; Wheaton and Thorpe, 2022, Ch. 11) because lifestyle sports are “generally male dominated and commonly perceived as masculine” (Sisjord, 2015, p. 598; cf. Malterud et al., 2023). Moreover, because recreation in nature is being commercialized, the tourism industry is growing, climate problems are increasingly pressing, and the risk of accident is consistently present much remains to be investigated regarding skiers in avalanche terrain—with a qualitative approach in general, and a steep snowy ethnography in particular, as a possible approach—as one niche in the lifestyle sport literature.

Possible research could be to discuss if lifestyle sport necessarily needs to be in opposition to mainstream sport (see Green, 2010; Wheaton & Thorpe, 2022) or—more specifically—to compare national backcountry skiing with the global phenomenon of backcountry skiing or other lifestyle sports. Herein, various lifestyle sports are more or less similar to each other, depending on what dimension one finds interesting to contrast. For example, snowboarding is also snow dependent, while surfing is more global. On the other hand, surfing is probably also considered a national identity marker in some places (e.g., Hawaii) and could be compared to Norwegian skiing in that sense. Picking up on the article's very first lines about the national identity connected with skiing, a sociological proposal for future research would be to conduct a Bourdieusian analysis of the skiers and with a more critical view considering backcountry skiing to be an exercise of distinction. ⁷