Epic Sled Run 2010

Since we moved into Talbot I have always regarded our neighborhood hill with respect and…well…longing.

Longing for a good snow. (done)
Longing for a good solid freeze. (done)
Longing for a good sled run. (not done)

Since BopOp left his Yankee Clipper metal runner sled up here we have had one or two opportunities – one of which was immediately preceded by a heavy sanding and well, that just stinks for sledding.
Furthermore, those previous snowy opportunities usually didn’t include the rest of the family and I was not able to take a run alone as I was needed for lift duty.

This time, work notwithstanding, I had my chance.
LaGrande Mermaid is old enough to hang on and, importantly, was willing.
TheWeeOne wanted to stay inside.
TheMommy was staying with her.
And it was still light outside.

I told LaGrande to grab her helmet and some of my spare cycling glasses. Confusedly, she obliged.

We hummed something approximating the theme to The A-Team as we snapped on our NutCase helmets.

We needn’t walk far – the road in our slightly tapered cul-de-sac was and still is a sheet of ice.

Why are we wearing our helmets?
Cause this is more dangerous than anything we have done yet.
What is? I don’t want to get hurt?
Me neither – that’s why we’re wearing our helmets.
Why are we wearing glasses – to keep the snow out of our eyes?
No honey, for the wind – cause we’re gonna go fast.
But I don’t want to fall off?
Me either.
It will hurt if we fall off right?
It depends on where we fall off – if we fall off.
I don’t want to hit anything.
Me either – I don’t intend on hitting anything – are you ready?

Are you ready?
…yeah?
Ok here we go.

We started slowly, LaGrande was nervously shifting and muttering nervous things I don’t now remember into my ear – but I was focused.
Focused on safety and speed and fun. Not necessarily in that order – although safety is naturally high on my list.

I turned on my flashing headlamp, but configured as it is for a recumbent bicycle, it did a really good job of illuminating the ground 2 feet in front of me.
As we picked up speed and coasted out onto the main circuit I had previously been upset to see sand on the roads…but this time it was light and on the *other* side of the road. Works fer me.

We turned the corner and left the sand behind and the Clipper lurched quickly forward, gliding easily on well worn runners.
LaGrande clutched at me tightly. She was on and the muttering stopped.

We were really cranking now, and despite the eye protection the wind was howling fast and loud, the cold and my eyes were teary.
From speed or fright? – I’m going with speed.

All I could do was steer for that first steep dip – there wasn’t anyone in the way and it’s a good thing too.
Over the whoopdie-doo and we slowed down…slightly.

Then speed again – but never as fast as at first. The clutching of LaGrande released slightly, allowing me to breathe finally and she said

That wasn’t so bad.

I wasn’t so sure.

Coming to the long sweeping right a ForeRunner SUV approached from below – I laid my left leg (henceforth the “brake”) in the street and slowed us down to a sane pace. The Clipper tracked like a trolley; The SUV didn’t have that much control and was probably a little freaked out to see a Green and Pink figure on top of Super Dave Osborne hurtling down the mountainside.

Leaving the ForeRunner I saw a big GMC going our way, awayyyyy down the road and at the top of the next whoopdie-do.

I released the brake and we lurched forward again. It was clear we needn’t worry about ‘ol GMC.
At least…it was clear for about three seconds, upon entering second number four it wasn’t clear anymore because we were catching Gimmy at an alarming rate. I remember a “Whoo hoo”, briefly in my ear.

I braked again briefly, for control, as another car swept past us going home, and we rose effortlessly to the top of the last whoopdie-do.
Gimmy was taking the final corner and, if it were a race to the very bottom, we would have caught him undoubtedly.

However, being the responsible adult that I am, I knew that a race to the very bottom necessitated a foolhardy descent onto a main cross street without any exit route. I deployed both brakes and we came to a slow halt at the right side curb, in the deep stuff.

Stats: .4 miles in about 75 seconds (conservatively) for an average speed of about 19.2 mph.

What are we doing?
Stopping here honey.
Why?
Because…the rest is just crazy!
Oh…ok…That wasn’t so bad!! But….HUAWW, My face is FREEZING!
Yeah! That was fun though eh?
Yeah, let’s do it again!!

The majority of the 20 minute walk home I described how there are things you do, sometimes, that aren’t generally advisable but with a little forethought can be done safely and enjoyably…and in this case…

We aren’t going to tempt fate.
No, we won’t be doing that again.
But…
Dang’ol dang’ol wasn’t that fun?!

Yeah! I can’t wait to tell Mommy!

Uhhhm, about that…

8 thoughts on “Epic Sled Run 2010”

  1. You and your brother have a knack for giving me heart attacks, but it is a wonderful story. It reminds me of Lakeridge 1968-69 when Dad and I riding on a similar sled like a layer cake, when I saw a car a half mile away and started screaming. . . in the end we were safely in the ditch.
    Well I was safe, I was atop of Dad, my then boyfriend, and he squished under my weight (although I was slender in those days) and perilously close to the rocks at the bottom of Mr. “Agarah’s” ditch. The car of course never made it anywhere near that hill if I recall — all of this occurred well before unnamed Scrooge like persons salted roads.
    Those were the days. We of course had no helmets, or headlamps, just street lamps and that wonderful winter sky. Brrr.

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  2. Oh, yeah, the other thing we had were other kids’ chatter in the distance and people giving out calls to alert for cars. I love the echo of those voices on cold winter nights.

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  3. Fun! Reminds me of sliding down the Newport Hills hill with Jim Z. on the bottom then we “3 little girls” or maybe it was just two of us, but we were stacked like flapjacks. Fun times!!

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  4. Yeah, “technology” [sand, snowplows, more traffic] plus “rain clouds” [grumpy neighbors, self-righteous do-gooders, yes and even some Grandparents!] sure have complicated the way life has to be lived these days.

    Good for you Lief for showing your daughter how life can be lived: full of adventure, full of fun, close to the edge!!

    Signed, Worried Great Grandpa — glad he wasn’t there to see it all unfold.

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  5. Well told, Lief! The helmets and goggles were a great idea.

    When I was the kid, I was totally oblivious to the dangers of cars. I do remember our mother standing at the intersection at the bottom of the hill, for hours, either waving down cars or shouting a warning to the kids on the sleds. We never had a single close call. Funny, she was the only mother who did that, and there were kids from all over the neighborhood using that hill.

    To clarify Monya’s story: she stuck her boot into the ice on one side, to turn us into the ditch. The old sled we were riding didn’t have enough steering to counteract her boot, so that’s why we ended up in the ditch.

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