I visited the Swedish ski resort better than France or Italy

THERE aren’t too many places where your ski run can be interrupted by a singing troll taking a poop, or by a giant snowman slaloming past.

But this is just part of the regular experience in Sälen, Sweden.

I’ve skied in numerous places across France, Austria, Italy and Andorra but have never seen anywhere even close to what the biggest resort in the land of Abba has to offer for beginners of all ages.

Sälen (pronounced either Say-learn or Sah-learn by locals) is like skiing on easy mode.

The snow is consistent, with few moguls or icy patches, the slopes are wide, mostly not too steep or too long, and it’s rare you have to wait for other skiers or don’t have room to manoeuvre.

For kids (and adults, who’ll want to visit at least once for novelty value), there’s the Troll Forest, with troll figures both large and small lurking in the trees to murmur and croon at you.

The main ski school is Northern Europe’s largest — and the relatively cheap kids’ ski school, for ages three and up, has its own mascot, Valle the snowman, who regularly comes out on the slopes with the instructors to lead a trail of nippers down.

I’m told Valle did once fall over mid-run and his head came off, which must have traumatised a few pre-schoolers.

And talking of unique experiences, there’s even a world-first ski-through McDonald’s for when you get peckish.

All this is spread across Sälen’s four ski areas — Lindvallen, Hundfjället, Högfjället, and Tandådalen — and they are each covered by the same ski pass. which includes free ski-bus access between the different areas.

We stayed in the smallest of these areas, Högfjället, at the ski-in, ski-out Högfjällshotell — a 20-minute transfer from the refreshingly small and relatively new Scandinavian Mountains Airport, where it’s snow-covered as soon as you land.

If you pre-book, you can even hire a husky sled to transfer you and your luggage.

The hotel contains everything you could need, including a Skistar ski shop to get your gear, adjacent nursery slopes — and even its own cavernous nightclub in the basement, where the Swedish youth congregate for nights of excess.

I heard one young businessman racked up a tab of about £35,000 for vintage champagne a couple of nights before our arrival, and his group didn’t even finish the bottles.

Overall, my limited experience of aprés ski in Sweden was notable for the good-natured boisterousness of the locals, who were soon linking arms with us to sing Swedish songs and pulling us up to conga round the room to I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles) by The Proclaimers.

So, any downsides? Well, if you’re an advanced skier, there are only a few slopes that will offer much of a challenge (I would normally steer well clear of black runs but comfortably managed three here and they felt more like moderate reds elsewhere).

Also, the lift network is fairly old-school compared with better-known European rivals — there are quite a few button lifts and T-bar lifts involved in getting from area to area.

The main thing you need to be prepared for is the toe-numbing levels of cold that are the norm in Sälen.

During our days there it was -13C to -15C, with temperatures expected to dip to -20C the weekend after our departure.

I would recommend thermal gloves within your ski gloves, and maybe wool-lined socks and regular stop-offs for hot chocolate.

As well as the skiing, there is snowmobiling, which was great fun if a little scary (driving licence required).

We motored along, through falling snow, up to a remote mountain cabin where we enjoyed local-style waffles and hot chocolate.

The next evening saw us take a horse-drawn sleigh deep into the forest, warmed by reindeer skins on our laps and with flaming torches on the back of the sleigh.

We eventually arrived at a cluster of teepees, in one of which we enjoyed a dinner of blueberry soup (delicious) in an edible bread bowl and moose stew (soft and tasty) — with a home-made knitted beer mitt to cradle my drink.

The final mode of transport the next day was husky-driving, and after I got used to standing on my narrow perch at the back of the sled and controlling the speed on the narrow track by hopping on a large plough-style brake, I was able to admire the trail the eight yelping hounds were so excitedly pulling us along.

As is par for the course on the ski slopes, there are tall, skinny Norwegian spruces everywhere, and if you talk about a ski resort being blanketed in snow, this is more the full, heavy-tog duvet of snow.

The forests look, to a tree, like they’ve been liberally sploshed with icing sugar — giving wintry vistas unlike anywhere else I’ve seen.

However much Sälen might chill your fingers, its easy, freezy, trolls-in-treesy fun will leave you with a warm glow inside.