It is with deep sadness that Woodlore shares the news of the untimely passing of Lars Fält:

I was very upset to learn of the passing of Lars Fält, there is something unsettling about it, survival instructors aren’t supposed to die. Especially Lars who always emanated invincibility. But as they say only the rocks live forever.

I first encountered Lars in the mid 1980’s, at a conference at which I was speaking in London. Looking out across the audience one person stood out, a tall, fit man in the next to front row who was paying very close attention. This was Lars. At the end of the talk, he approached me and introduced himself and we shared lunch together. Right off we realised that we were kindred spirits. I think we both felt heartened to discover that there was another person in the world with the same interests and asking the same questions. At that time Lars was a Captain in the Swedish army, a former parachute ranger who had been tasked with establishing the Svenska Armens Överlevnadsenhet, the Swedish Army Survival Unit. It was I think three years till we again made contact. At the time I was incredibly young and a sponge for all that could be learned of the North Country. It was Lars who gave me my start in Arctic survival. One very typical memory I have is the day when he introduced me to snowmobiling. Having shown me how to operate the machine he said follow me and took off into the arctic forest of Lapland at full throttle. Keeping up required a similar speed. After a couple of hours, we dropped down a slope onto the Torne River and machines screaming we tore upstream riding side by side. Struggling to stay connected to the machine I managed to glance at the speedo which was registering 140kph. At about that moment a military helicopter flew along abreast of us, it was quite a first experience of snowmobiling. When we arrived back at our starting point the helicopter had landed and the crew were waiting for us. They had clocked our speed and were ready to deliver a lecture; we had been driving at twice the speed limit. When they recognised Lars though they erupted in laughter, he had of course taught them all survival. Such was often the way with Lars, the respect with which he was held by the military was astonishing.

Over the course of the next thirty years, we worked together running Woodlore Arctic Courses, but equally we had many other adventures together, many, many laughs, and dealt often with the difficult challenges that only extreme northern conditions can throw at you. We travelled by ski, by snowmobile and by dog sled. We spent long hours in arctic cabins and tents discussing and sharing our thoughts many of which would become future expeditions in search of knowledge. Two minds certainly are better than one and there was much to research the skills as we now teach them were very much the product of that research. Spending years in arctic cabins some tidy, some truly horrid, we found we both shared the ability to laugh at the hardships. Working together we developed a strong telepathy, always able to know where the other was and what decisions they would be making.

Lars contribution loved teaching on the Woodlore Courses, and as always did so with humour. On one notable course he informed the group that they would be visited during the course by two Swedish Airforce survival instructors. All the students were enthusiastic to meet them and learn of their work. One morning one of the students asked Lars when the instructors would be visiting. He grabbed his phone and stepped outside returning to announce, yes today they will be here when you are setting your fishing lines through the ice. Out on the river a few hours later I saw several students peering into the distance for signs of a snowmobile or skiers. When with a sudden roar two Grippen jets tore across their heads as low as any pilot dare fly. The jets climbed high into the air and then turned banked back and retraced the fly past even lower, leaving the students spawled flat in the snow. Who else could play such a joke.

While we enjoyed teaching together, it was the time that we invested in our research that we cherished the most, spurring each other on to rediscover and comprehend forgotten knowledge and skills; I miss our collaboration. Sadly, this ended when Lars became ill. Even his seemingly indestructible strength could not protect him from natures cruelty and those of us who truly knew him well, recognise now that signs of this were clouding him much earlier than perhaps anyone realised at the time.

Today many imagine they know what Lars’s strengths were, but they will probably get it wrong. He was indeed a true survival expert, focussed and always learning about his subject, willing to challenge accepted wisdom and adapt to new ideas. But Lars was also a superb natural leader a veritable force of nature, he was highly intelligent with a brilliant memory, he was incredibly generous and was gifted with the sharpest humour I have ever encountered. He would ambush the unwary at every opportunity with a practical joke. He had a habit of giving people he liked a gentle friendly punch in the shoulder. The problem was Lars was a man mountain, more than once, I had to remind him that given his size and strength his victims may have been shocked by receiving what, can best be described as a knockout punch.

As a young officer Lars was sent to Northern Sweden where he commanded a troop of Sami soldiers. This experience developed in him a lifelong respect and appreciation of First Nations. He cherished every opportunity he had to learn from people who had lived the old life. He could empathise with their often-difficult history, his respect and open heart endearing him to them. Lars was also very humble, twice we met self-acclaimed survival experts bigging themselves up. When he asked them who had taught them, without recognising him, they claimed that they were trained by Lars Fält. He never revealed himself to them but did enjoy chuckling about it afterwards.

In terms of his contribution to survival training Sweden owes a great debt to Captain Fält. With the greatest diligence, honesty and intelligence, he established the fundamental skills and methods that are still being taught by their military today at the Försvarsmaktens Överlevnadsskola, Armed Forces Survival School. His approach to training was totally uncompromising, on one occasion I watched silently as a potential survival instructor attempted to light a fire at sub minus fifty degrees Celsius. Beside him his two teammates were excavating a quinze snow shelter, constantly looking over to see if the warming fire was lit. All were suffering and had not eaten for over a week. But this was the application phase, no assistance could be given. Only after three hours had elapsed did Lars ask me to intervene, a simple mistake was rectified and warmth was restored. But that is what is needed to teach instructors properly, many civilian instructors should consider whether they have been so thoroughly schooled. Lars would be happy to know that the next generation of service personnel are still receiving instruction in ways that he pioneered, knowledge that assuredly will bring many of them home in times of conflict.

Lars’ energy was applied equally to his leisure, not least his passion for country and western music, of which he had an authoritative knowledge the equal of his survival knowledge. But when he tried to sing those songs, people nearby would dive into snowbanks or pluck out reindeer fur to plug their ears. This only encouraged him to sing more…I cannot believe it, but I am sure today we’d all love to hear those strangled chords one more time. He had many favourites, but one song that really bridged the gap between his outdoor and country life was, ‘Rocky Mountain Trail Ride’ by Gary Fjelgaard.

But despite Lars mischief and superb survival knowhow, that is not how I shall remember him. The Lars I came to know at countless quiet moments in remote places was above all else a family man. Nothing in life was more important to him than his wife, daughter and when they arrived his grandchildren. Family was the centre of his world his raison d’être. On a dog sled journey we made one year, arriving at a remote cabin I found him engrossed, rummaging through old books piled in a corner. There he found what he was searching for, a dusty old visitor book. In this he found an entry for a visit to that cabin that he had made one easter, decades before, with his then fiancée and soon to be wife.

And that is how I will remember my old friend. I am sure he has only gone ahead to break the trail. He’ll be up yonder with a kettle over the fire and his pipe in his mouth singing country songs.  Farewell old friend.

– Ray Mears

Your memories

My wife has many fond memories of both Lars and of his wife Louise, one which springs to mind is of Lars picking out an Arctic hat for her at Kiruna’s winter market. Saying, “There you are my little fox.” She cherishes that hat and wears it on every Woodlore Arctic trip, as she quite rightly says, Lars was a truly great man, they don’t make them like that anymore. He will be greatly missed.

If any Woodloreans out there have any or photos or memories of Lars that you would like to share we would love to hear from you and with your permission, we would like to share them with Lars family and the wider bushcraft community.