Norwegians love skiing. In Tromso, they ski to work. In Oslo it is warmer, so they have indoor skiing and they have snow machines to maintain cross country trails. But the king of the mountain is the Holmenkollen ski jump.

We take the tram up the mountain to Holmenkollen and then walk uphill to the massive, world class ski jump. The top of the jump is accessible through the Norwegian ski museum.

I find the Museum delightful. In case you ever wondered if Norwegians were born in skis, yes, they are. The museum has video footage of six month old’s happily skiing, and the museum has the tiny skis to prove it. It truly is the national pastime. I am exhausted from the jump simulation.

After goofing around the interactive museum, we take the elevator to the top of the Holmenkollen ski jump. The view is magnificent, beautiful, and vast. Mountains, city, and fjords. But the the big draw is the firsthand view from the starting gate. The jump is terrifying. Who would do this? No. No way. Nope.

I can’t imagine the adrenaline surge the athletes experience as they take a ski lift to the elevator and emerge on this platform. Thirty thousand people cheering. Medics standing by. They hurl themselves down the slope to hit the curved jump. They fly hundreds of feet in the air only to land on an even steeper slope. They then must turn and slow before reaching the end of the track. I would love to witness the sport live, but my advice to anyone I knew and loved would have to be …. Please! Don’t jump!

We talk about the craziness of it all as we walk back toward the train. We find the lovely Holmenkollen restaurant on a hill with an awesome view of the Oslofjord. The vibe is mountain cabin retreat complete with woodsmoke and antler motif. Throw in a little jazz music and sunlight on the fjord below…Heaven.

I have eggplant. It is delicious, but even if it was not…Just come for the view. I am lost in the moment. A good meal with great ambience. I almost don’t mind the sky high Norwegian food prices. Almost.

We wander down the hill. I am amazed we are so close to the massive ski lift that can be seen from almost anywhere in Oslo… and we can’t see it. We are literally underneath it and it has completely disappeared from view. Perspective. Angles. How strange to know it is there and not be able to find it.

Partway down the mountain I cajole my husband into getting off at a stop with hiking trails. I want to see where they go. Just a short way into the forest, I see more ski jumps in various sizes. Baby jumps that would still scare me to death. We hike to the complex. These Norwegians are crazy….about skis.

Back at home (our Oslo apartment), I take a walk in the garden across the street. I find bees and Spring flowers. I soak up sun and stop to smell the aroma of leaves and mulch.

I linger among the pine trees and touch the cool bark. I tell myself I am made for this, to be grounded to the earth. I belong on land. Others can jump and fly through air. I am made to hike and walk amongst the trees.

As I round the corner and top the garden path. I look up and see Holmenkollen high on the mountain. Jump….it taunts. I wisely remain grounded…. And hopefully always will.