by Curt Kovener
A few weekend’s back we got more than a dusting of snow. Eight to 10 inches of white stuff allowed Becky to trudge across the dam with her saucer sled and make a few slides down the hill.
And multiple snowfalls since, be are both ill and fatigued of the frozen white stuff. So I figure if I write about snow, it will warm up and go away.
Following a snow I always admire how fresh the wilderness retreat looks with a cleansing white covering. Trees, both deciduous and conifers, become art forms at the hands of Mother Nature until a wind or warm temperatures cause an earthbound tumble of her work.
Blazing a trail on a lane that is just a long, curving clearing through the trees can be an adventure.
Pouring myself an adult beverage, I sat looking out the front window at the snow covered trees on the hills & hollows and the ice encrusted lake and thought back to my youth and the times we went sledding—most of which occurred on farmer Paul Nehrt’s Hill west of town.
To the first time sledder, Nehrt’s Hill was terrifying: high, steep, and bumpy ride that was lined by large unforgiving trees if you crashed. But with a few short passes, confidence grew and even new sledders felt the need for more speed and distance.
Usually it was the traditional metal runner sled that many of us used. But there were some innovators. Back in the day the new saucer sleds often offered a spinning trip down the hill that unless you quickly learned the ever changing balance point, you & disc ended up tumbling to a stop.
The saucer sleds frequently made the first passes down the hill to pack the snowy coating that enabled the runnered sleds to gain more speed and distance.
Sometimes scoop shovels were borrowed from the Nehrt barn. Usually it was the guys sitting in the shovel holding on for dear life the wooden handle between the thighs and keeping their feet high enough to not suppress speed and not too high to tumble backwards but always ready to drag in the snow for guidance or an emergency stop.
Possibly one of the most fun downhill conveyances was a tractor tire inner tube. There were several single passenger car tire tubes going down the hill. But the larger tube from the rear wheel tractor tire meant group fun.
Sometimes we would sit on the tube, interlace our legs toward the center like spokes on a wheel and shove off down the hill. Guys were yelling, girls were squealing their glee at a communal slide down the cold, snowy slope. There was much laughter, smiles, and red faces from the snowy spray as we trudged willingly up the hill for a second thrill ride.
At some point we got the brilliant (?) idea to lie down on the tube enmass. The guys were prone on the bottom with the girls clinging desperately to whomever they could. (Maybe it was at this point where co-ed sledding crossed over to another realm for teenagers.) What was discovered challenging the hill in this fashion was that while the tube cushioned the bumps in the hills, the ones on top sometimes went airborne and clinging to necks, shoulders, articles of clothing to keep from being dismounted, would slam into the person beneath. Sometimes there was bruising; sometimes the wind would be knocked out of the middlemen. And it all resulted in unabashed laughter…after we could breath again.
And there was this time that someone located the hood from a 1940’s era car made of American steel. Turning it shiny side down (after a coat of paraffin was applied to the faded paint) the group sled looked somewhat like a boat bow big enough for the entire student body. Remember this was back when they made B-I-G cars. The group rides in the car hood soon lost its appeal as the hood was heavy and took several guys to lug it back to the top.
Tractor tubes were much more fun. Almost as much fun as the bonfire and hot chocolate that someone’s kind mother seemed to always provide.