1964 - The Toboggan Run

1964 - The Toboggan Run

A crisp bite was in the air as we exited the car at Petrifying Springs where we’d gone for a day of sledding and sliding on the snow and ice. The slopes were full of kids of all ages spread out in a chaotic maze of humanity as Ron M., Ron B., my little brother Steve and I walked under the trees surrounding the parking lot and topped the short hill that opened onto the first snow area. It was kind of slushy and muddy. This did not speak well of the upcoming main area which was a short walk up a rise and over the hill. As we topped the hill we were delighted to find laid out before us a lovely, lively white valley full of a chaotic mix of adults and kids.

After a short walk into the little valley, to our right there would be a short, gentle hill topped by a half-buried chain-link fence with only about 1 ½ feet of its 4-foot height exposed above a snow bank. This temporary fence surrounded a little pond that during spring and summer months was the home of several swans that laid their eggs there and raised their young until they could fly with the flock in the fall. Inside the fence were several concrete and wooden park benches facing toward the now frozen little pond but, like the fence, were now half buried in the snow banks surrounding the pond. It was such a small space that, although it was opened early in the season for ice skating, once the little hill became packed with snow and the lower area full of kids and sleds it was restricted from ice skating to avoid conflict of the resulting mixed crowd. The pond was eventually closed every year to ice skating and the skating moved to a much larger, and more accessible area that didn't quite have the scenery of this little private milieu. We couldn’t see from here but last nights light snow had dropped a dusting of a few inches of powdery-white dry snow over the solid frozen ice.

To our left was a tall hill that featured a long stairway flanking a narrow toboggan run that ran 4/5 of the way up the hill and emptied into the general population of the play area. A tiny shack sat at the top of the track that was big enough to hold a prep area where toboggans were set on the track while held in place by a simple release. The mechanical release was a simple 2x4 holding block at the end of a stick that served as a launch handle that dropped the block and allowed the toboggan to start downhill. The track itself was occasionally watered-down to assure a nice thick layer of ice used to assure a smooth and thrilling ride downhill. The route where the track crossed into the general play area was apparent as a worn track that created a narrow slick band of frozen ice that crossed the general play area and petered out about halfway up the gentle rise toward the little pond. As a toboggan does not steer easily revelers below had to watch for oncoming toboggans but people were rarely in the way as momentum was usually pretty much used up by the time the vehicle came to a rest in this area. Being from the Midwest we had all taken out turns on toboggans in the past. The toboggan, for those not fortunate enough to have taken this mild thrill-ride, was a wooden construct with an upturned and half-circled nose like an elf’s shoe. They came in various lengths holding anywhere from 2-10 passengers. The church owned 2 toboggans – one 4-person and one 6-person which we had used frequently the prior year. Today we had our sleds and were off on our own. Ron, at 17, was the eldest of us and had his dad’s car. We were out-for-a-day of fun and were looking for an unsupervised good time…which is probably somewhere in the neighborhood of were our next idea came from as there was no one there sane enough to tell us “No.”

We sledded and played all afternoon in the general play area including occasional breaks to take the short trip to the concession stand/bathroom where we would either fill up on hot chocolate or empty the same from our full bladders.

It was late in the day. Dusk had arrived and night was approaching fast. Most of the families had retreated to their cars and left for home long ago. The toboggan run had closed down with padlocks securing both the entrance to the shack and the release handle to assure no abuse of the equipment. We sat drinking hot chocolate when I mentioned the icy track my brother and I had built the previous year in our large extended backyard.

Because of the age of our house the bathroom was an add-on with a roof that rose from 10-feet off the ground to a gentle uphill slope that ended inches below my bedroom window. In winter the lake-effect snow frequently piled up in drifts against this west-facing wall. The previous year the drift had come within 4-feet of the roof so, of course, it took very little effort for a 13-year old and an 11-year old to supplement this with enough additional snow to create a sled-worthy hill that could be launched off the roof with only a 2-3 foot freefall. This freefall resulted in hitting the slope already moving at a fair rate of speed that sent us zooming across the backyard before fetching up in the weeds and bushes in the field that bordered our backyard.

It was early Saturday when we got the idea to build a track, just like the one in the Olympics. We made it wide enough for the sled and took great care to bank the turns, placing one of the old tires piled behind the garage at the top of each of those banked turns. They sat tall at every curve, a big open circle revealing the white covering of snow behind them that covered virtually everything. It was formed in a sinuous course that we hoped would allow the sled to slow naturally instead of having the ride limited by the end of the lawn. It dropped steeply down with a course headed toward the outside corner of the garage extending a few feet beyond that point and curving around in a 90-degree turn that then shot across the lawn toward the big old oak tree that was one of the main features of our yard. We had packed snow up against the base of the tree placing one of the tires against the trunk and packing it solidly into place. A couple of more turns took us on a trip that crossed our backyard 3-times and more than doubled the length of our usual relatively straight route. Through testing early in the construction process we had discovered that the packed snow was not as solid as we desired and a sled moving at a decent clip tended to plow right into the snow bank instead of moving up the banked turn and onto the rest of the track. It was late in the day so, realizing there was not much more time left in the day we contemplated getting full use from the track the next day, Sunday. Realizing this soft-snow-pack was a problem we hit upon an obvious solution: wet the track down, let it freeze all night and we would have a perfect track the next day.

The first bucket of water melted all of the snow upon which it was deposited. After a repair and some consideration we decided the bucket would have to be emptied much slower. We soon found that to empty the bucket of it’s load at a rate that would not melt anything it touched it would take all night – not an option – to this point out parents had no idea what we were doing. It was cold outside and warm inside. So far they weren’t curious about our activities that day and we wanted to keep it that way. There were no sidewalks to shovel in the back and the driveway was only cleared enough to get the car halfway up. They were staying inside. They had no idea…which was how we liked it as we knew that discovery would probably end in another “You can’t jump off that!” or “That looks too dangerous.” These were the last words we wanted to hear and so avoided a parent/child interface this afternoon. We put our heads together – we still knew wetting the track would put the desired layer of ice on the surface.

We were also well aware the garden hose had been put up for the winter to avoid frozen pipes so it was apparent that using the hose was not an option…or was it? We both arrived at the same idea at the same time: the hose screwed into the deep-sink that resided at the bottom of the rear outside entrance to the basement. Steve went inside via the usual side-door to open the basement-door which opened to the back yard and was locked from the inside. While he did this I dragged the hose out of the garage gently opening the garage door and squeezing through the opening to retrieve the hose from the darkened garage. Dragging the hose behind me back under the door I furtively looked around in anticipation of “Larry! What are you doing?” The coast was clear. I arrived at the back door as it opened from the inside. I quickly moved into the dark, hose clutched close to my body in an attempt to stop the loose coils of hose from unwrapping onto the ground.

We quickly screwed the hose onto the faucet and dragged the end outside stopping frequently to un-kink and untangle the chaotic mess of limp plastic. After considerable struggle we had extended the hose its full length and quietly turned the cold water on. Holding my finger over the open end as I had been taught, a fine spray of water spewed from the end and laid a gentle mist of cold water over the track. We sprayed the entire snow bank that was our launch point and proceeded down the track assuring the banked turns were well covered. We soaked the turns and the tires to assure solid banked turns. We even included filling the hollow of the tires with water to assure it would stay heavy and well imbedded into place where needed to protect us from wildly flying off the track when we were trying to navigate an aggressive turn. Just before dark we managed to sneak the still-connected hose out the back door one last time for a final, and heaver, layer of water for a solid run of ice following the freezing-cold night.

The next morning we awoke and ran to the window. Like a fairy wonderland the icy track glittered in the morning sun fairly inviting us to ride. Mom made us eat breakfast which we bolted as fast as we possibly could hoping to get some track-time in before Sunday School…no such luck…Sunday School first. This meant we wouldn‘t be on the track until after church, at least, 1:00 in the afternoon.

In the high sun the track fairly glowed with an icy glitter that welcomed us with open arms. Sneaking our Flexi-Flyers upstairs, into our room and out the window, I was to be first, over Steve’s protests. Hey, he is the LITTLE brother…decision: easy…overruled. With a deep breath I launched into space. I crashed onto the icy snow hard and began to careen wildly downhill. Within a few feet, and well before the bottom, I had barely regained control and was speeding at an insane pace toward the first banked turn and the icy tire. I prepared to “hop” the sled off the ground to relieve some of the angular momentum and shoot more directly into the turn. I waited to feel the upturn in the track leading to the banked turn. The tire rose up before me and – BLANG-G-G-G-G-G – the sled vibrated with the residual force of the fast moving sled impaling itself into the side of a frozen tire. I shot through the center like a performing seal through a fiery ring and began to roll through the soft snow. I came to a rest 10’ on the outside of the track surprised and invigorated. We were absolutely sure that with enough work that track would work perfectly! Unfortunately a warm snap helped the snow melt within the week and we never did get the track banked enough to get past that first high-speed 90-degree turn.

This was just an example of how things don’t always go as planned…which is why we maybe should have rethought our brilliant idea on this day some years later: a sled trip down the Petrifying Springs Toboggan Slide.

The shack from where the toboggans would launch, having one side open to the elements, was not completely unassailable so we figured a firm grip on the open jamb would allow us to each swing around the opening to gain access to the inside of the shack…and hence the track. As the launch handle was also padlocked to an immobile state we would have to drop onto the track, similar to our launch off the roof into our backyard. We would launch into space and catch the track after a short drop. I volunteered to be the first.

I gripped the sled firmly in my hands prepared to drop off into space. I looked downhill at the extremely steep slope. My heart was in my throat. The hill looked like it dropped straight down. I wasn’t sure this was a good idea after all. It was really steep and really icy. I gently laid the sled down on the holding block so it teetered insecurely as I gently lay on my stomach to test the feasibility of this somewhat more conservative launch. It didn’t feel much better than a contemplated drop into space seemed to be. I turned to speak over my shoulder, having second thoughts and ready to chicken-out “Ron…” I said and then “OOOPS! E-AH, AHHH!” as the sled unexpectedly tipped forward and dropped onto the track. I held on for dear life…speeding much faster than I had ever contemplated. It seems metal runners move a lot faster on ice than the wooden runners on a toboggan. I shot down the hill gaining speed with every foot of travel. Trees shot by like a jet passing a hang glider. MYGOD THERE’S PEOPLE DOWN THERE! I was barely hanging on much less controlling the direction or speed of the sled. I crossed the sound barrier and proceeded onto the speed of light in a matter of seconds with the sound of my passing bringing up the rear, “HHHEEELLLPPP!!! AHHHHHHH!” I shot across the level area that was, fortunately, almost emptied of people and headed for the rise bordering the little pond. I don’t believe I slowed at all as I screamed “GET OUT OF THE WAY!! LOOK OUT!! WHOAH!!” and headed up the little hill toward the pond. I cleared the fence by at least 2-feet and shot between 2 benches. I hit the ice feeling like I was the pilot of an out-of-control rocket-car and zoomed across the ice as though friction did not exist in this universe.

White. Soft. Cold. Quiet. I was buried headfirst in the snow bank on the far side of the pond. Sled still held in a death-grip. Nervous laughter bubbled from my lips. I was still alive. I rolled onto my back in the soft snow. I lay there for a long time appreciating life and the quiet. Eventually I heard my brother speak, “Is he ok?” I sat up, huge smile on my face. “Wow!! That was incredible!”

“…but I don’t think I’ll be doing it again.”