The snow made a satisfying squeaky crunch today as I walked up our sledding hill. Our latest attempt nearly made it to the end of the run and the ditch that marks it. Rowen had rolled off before the end again, which was just enough force to break our momentum before the final incline. Yet we were determined certain we could make it. I had already done so, sledding solo with a jogging start before I jumped on the sled. We were attempting to get all three of us there together.
It was Connor's idea that all of us lay on our bellies on a single sled, stacked like flapjacks. We didn't all fit on a single sled when sitting normally, and putting two sleds together (with the person in the middle sitting on one sled backwards with his feet on the other) was only getting us about halfway down the hill before we jackknifed--that is, when Rowen wasn't steering us into the woods even sooner. However, our last three attempts in the flapjack configuration had all ended with Rowen rolling off before the end of the run.
I was certain I had the solution.
Once again, I lined up the black sled, making certain its bottom fin was in the correct groove--too much to the left had us follow the curve of the hill into the woods, while too much to the right shot us directly into the sapling that seemed to have magnetic powers. I lowered myself onto the sled, my knees fitting within the lip of the stern and my chest just shy of the bow so that my chin reached just past the edge of the sled. My shoulders were free of the sled so I could use my hands and arms for the initial propulsion and for steering.
I had barely situated before I felt Connor's weight on my back. My chest pushed into the sled so that I could feel the shape of my coat's pockets. Our sled ground slightly farther into the snow as Rowen laid on Connor. I could already feel him swaying a bit on top. I knew he would fall off if we did not make an adjustment.
"Connor, put your legs on the outside of mine. ... Good. Now, Rowen, put your legs straight between Connor's."
I immediately felt the difference, and knew we could make it down if we could just slide true. With the angle of the hill being slightly askew of the angle of the sled run, sliding true meant hitting the initial slope just right and then steering a bit to the right. However, we had to steer using just enough drag that we could make the turn, but not pass the last incline before the ditch at the end of the run. We could be off by a little bit one way or the other, but not by much.
We went through our "ready protocol" with Rowen saying "ready" first, followed by Connor. I immediately started moving us forward by reaching ahead and pulling the sled forward. As we cleared the ridge, I knew we were sliding faster than we had before, and that we were headed slightly off course to the left. I put out my right arm just short of perpendicular to my body and slid my hand along the icy run. The process sent up a small spray of ice into the air behind us. Meanwhile I pumped my left arm, reaching as far ahead of me as I could and pushing until my arm was all the way down my body, repeating the process in quick, strong strokes.
It worked, and we stayed on the hardened path in the middle of our sled run. I tucked my elbows in and placed my hands on the bow to make more subtle steering adjustments as needed. Rowen stayed securely on; I could tell because the pressure on my chest had not lessened as it had on the earlier tries.
As fast as we started, we were certainly slowing down. Even though we were farther than any of our previous attempts, I feared that my turning maneuver might have caused enough drag that we would not make it the entire way. Both of the boys had been cheering on the way down; now Connor was yelling for the sled to "Come on!"
The sled was slowing to a crawl, but the lip was just within reach. I debated "cheating" and using my arms to pull us that little extra distance, but I decided to wait just a bit longer to see what would happen. Just when I thought I would have to untuck my arms, we crossed the invisible line that allowed gravity to take over again, sliding us quickly down the slope of the ditch.
The other side of ditch (which is nearly as tall as I am) sped towards us. I pulled up hard on the front of the sled to use it as a shield against the stems of the shrubs that I do not dare to mow. We slid partly up the wall, and then back down to the bottom of the ditch, the boys cheering in excitement and victory.
We then ran back up the run to do it again.
It was Connor's idea that all of us lay on our bellies on a single sled, stacked like flapjacks. We didn't all fit on a single sled when sitting normally, and putting two sleds together (with the person in the middle sitting on one sled backwards with his feet on the other) was only getting us about halfway down the hill before we jackknifed--that is, when Rowen wasn't steering us into the woods even sooner. However, our last three attempts in the flapjack configuration had all ended with Rowen rolling off before the end of the run.
I was certain I had the solution.
Once again, I lined up the black sled, making certain its bottom fin was in the correct groove--too much to the left had us follow the curve of the hill into the woods, while too much to the right shot us directly into the sapling that seemed to have magnetic powers. I lowered myself onto the sled, my knees fitting within the lip of the stern and my chest just shy of the bow so that my chin reached just past the edge of the sled. My shoulders were free of the sled so I could use my hands and arms for the initial propulsion and for steering.
I had barely situated before I felt Connor's weight on my back. My chest pushed into the sled so that I could feel the shape of my coat's pockets. Our sled ground slightly farther into the snow as Rowen laid on Connor. I could already feel him swaying a bit on top. I knew he would fall off if we did not make an adjustment.
"Connor, put your legs on the outside of mine. ... Good. Now, Rowen, put your legs straight between Connor's."
I immediately felt the difference, and knew we could make it down if we could just slide true. With the angle of the hill being slightly askew of the angle of the sled run, sliding true meant hitting the initial slope just right and then steering a bit to the right. However, we had to steer using just enough drag that we could make the turn, but not pass the last incline before the ditch at the end of the run. We could be off by a little bit one way or the other, but not by much.
We went through our "ready protocol" with Rowen saying "ready" first, followed by Connor. I immediately started moving us forward by reaching ahead and pulling the sled forward. As we cleared the ridge, I knew we were sliding faster than we had before, and that we were headed slightly off course to the left. I put out my right arm just short of perpendicular to my body and slid my hand along the icy run. The process sent up a small spray of ice into the air behind us. Meanwhile I pumped my left arm, reaching as far ahead of me as I could and pushing until my arm was all the way down my body, repeating the process in quick, strong strokes.
It worked, and we stayed on the hardened path in the middle of our sled run. I tucked my elbows in and placed my hands on the bow to make more subtle steering adjustments as needed. Rowen stayed securely on; I could tell because the pressure on my chest had not lessened as it had on the earlier tries.
As fast as we started, we were certainly slowing down. Even though we were farther than any of our previous attempts, I feared that my turning maneuver might have caused enough drag that we would not make it the entire way. Both of the boys had been cheering on the way down; now Connor was yelling for the sled to "Come on!"
The sled was slowing to a crawl, but the lip was just within reach. I debated "cheating" and using my arms to pull us that little extra distance, but I decided to wait just a bit longer to see what would happen. Just when I thought I would have to untuck my arms, we crossed the invisible line that allowed gravity to take over again, sliding us quickly down the slope of the ditch.
The other side of ditch (which is nearly as tall as I am) sped towards us. I pulled up hard on the front of the sled to use it as a shield against the stems of the shrubs that I do not dare to mow. We slid partly up the wall, and then back down to the bottom of the ditch, the boys cheering in excitement and victory.
We then ran back up the run to do it again.
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