The parent wake up call. Light piercing through your closed eyelids in an otherwise dark room.
The sheet-wrapped-around-you-roll out of bed.
The groggy bowl of cereal.
Stumbling to the car with arms full of backpacks and coolers that aren’t yours but you know you’ll use later.
Jamming into the backseat of the car and thanking God you’re not driving as you go back to sleep with the pillow you brought.
Yes, I’m sure we can all relate to this type of car trip, the one you actually packed the night before but still freak out before you get on the highway as you hope you didn’t forget something important…like tire chains.
When you’re in the valley and it has been 63 degrees, you kinda forget about things like chains in the back of the car. Let me tell you, if you’re heading to the alps you shouldn’t forget.
That was one of the many phone calls made between the two vehicles we drove into the heart of Switzerland. Not fitting into one car, we borrowed a second car and took some extra passengers to fill ‘er up. Thus, my aunt and uncle each drove the entire 6 hrs round trip and sledding in between. Dave and I brought our licenses just in case our skills were requested in the line of duty.
They weren’t.
And we didn’t need the chains we brought.
Twisting through the jagged mountains we arrived in Bergun, Switzerland around 10am. Jumping in our snow gear we walked into town to rent sleds.
The sheet-wrapped-around-you-roll out of bed.
The groggy bowl of cereal.
Stumbling to the car with arms full of backpacks and coolers that aren’t yours but you know you’ll use later.
Jamming into the backseat of the car and thanking God you’re not driving as you go back to sleep with the pillow you brought.
Yes, I’m sure we can all relate to this type of car trip, the one you actually packed the night before but still freak out before you get on the highway as you hope you didn’t forget something important…like tire chains.
When you’re in the valley and it has been 63 degrees, you kinda forget about things like chains in the back of the car. Let me tell you, if you’re heading to the alps you shouldn’t forget.
That was one of the many phone calls made between the two vehicles we drove into the heart of Switzerland. Not fitting into one car, we borrowed a second car and took some extra passengers to fill ‘er up. Thus, my aunt and uncle each drove the entire 6 hrs round trip and sledding in between. Dave and I brought our licenses just in case our skills were requested in the line of duty.
They weren’t.
And we didn’t need the chains we brought.
Twisting through the jagged mountains we arrived in Bergun, Switzerland around 10am. Jumping in our snow gear we walked into town to rent sleds.
10am. Jumping in our snow gear we walked into town to rent sleds.
Swiss sleds are very traditionally styled, as you can see. Made mostly of wood, two runners strengthened by a steel sheet along the bottom support the sled. They’re bolted on the back, but only bound by a removable leather strap on the front. This enables the sled to steer according to the weight shifted by the rider.
There are a few ways to steer:
1. Drag your foot on the side you want to go. Effective and simple, but kills your shoes and sends snow flying in the air/in your face/in others’ faces. Also potential to break your leg should you hit a bad patch of snow or ice.
2. Pull on the strap of the side you want to go and lean your weight in the back of the sled on the opposite side. Takes considerable weight shift and practice, and not a very fast or sharp rate of turn.
3. Put your feet on the top of the runners and push in the desired direction while shifting weight in the back on the opposite side. Better rate of turn and safe for your legs, but takes more time to brake.
4. Put hand on the back of sled to move your weight on the opposite side of desired turn. Very fast rate of turn, good for drifting corners, but easy to become unbalanced increasing danger of falling off over bumps.
Swiss sleds are very traditionally styled, as you can see. Made mostly of wood, two runners strengthened by a steel sheet along the bottom support the sled. They’re bolted on the back, but only bound by a removable leather strap on the front. This enables the sled to steer according to the weight shifted by the rider.
There are a few ways to steer:
1. Drag your foot on the side you want to go. Effective and simple, but kills your shoes and sends snow flying in the air/in your face/in others’ faces. Also potential to break your leg should you hit a bad patch of snow or ice.
2. Pull on the strap of the side you want to go and lean your weight in the back of the sled on the opposite side. Takes considerable weight shift and practice, and not a very fast or sharp rate of turn.
3. Put your feet on the top of the runners and push in the desired direction while shifting weight in the back on the opposite side. Better rate of turn and safe for your legs, but takes more time to brake.
4. Put hand on the back of sled to move your weight on the opposite side of desired turn. Very fast rate of turn, good for drifting corners, but easy to become unbalanced increasing danger of falling off over bumps.
Dave on the Praeda, method 1. Behind: 3 peeps on a sled! Method 3.
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Method 4, coming off the Dar Lux. This is the only way to ride this run IMO.
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There were two different runs.
The Praeda is a 7km starting with a leisurely train ride up to the top. This road is never plowed in winter, designated solely for winter sledding tourists. Stepping off the red passenger train, the herd of people make their way past the small restroom hut to the crest where hundreds of sled tracks have pressed down the snow. I got on my sled and pushed off, figuring I’d have to get down sooner or later! Funny, that was the same thing my brother told me as he taught me how to snowboard and bypassed the bunny hill to a 2 mile run…coldest 3 hours of my life.
I digress.
Anyways, the steering came quickly as it was learn or die. More like learn or crash. Dodging adults, kids, and babies my fast little sled carried me swiftly to the bottom of the hill. I only crashed into one person but that was because she was sitting in the middle of a corner like she was Heidi snow princess. (Heidi’s Hollywood village was visible from Bergun).
At the bottom and feeling rather successful about my steering accomplishments, I leveled up with the boys and we went to the hardest sledding run on the mountain: The Dar Lux. From the safety of the ski lift veteran Marshall and I dissected the run weaving between the trees below our feet.
“Oh, there’s part of it.”
“You mean that little deer path?”
“Yeah.”
No more wide roads.
“So…basically it’s a switchback?”
“Yep. See those boards? They’re to prevent you from falling off the mountain if you don’t make the turn.”
Great.
The Dar Lux was everything promised: steep, fast, bumpy, icy, dangerous, narrow, challenging, scary, and fun. The fun part came after I was in the clear at the end of the run, prideful at surviving the gauntlet of obstacles. I only crashed twice, both because of other people in the way. It took a considerable amount of concentration. Sure, there were boards on the corners, but if you moved your weight on a straightaway you could still hurl off the mountainside where there is no guard.
My second run later in the day wasn’t so graceful. I let my guard down a bit and was more careless, trying to pass everyone and making hard cuts on the corners. I wiped out lots of times on that one but it was more exciting.
My second run on the Praeda, having run the Dar Lux, was now like walking through a field of prairie flowers. We played Mario Kart and took on characters Yoshi, Bowser, and Princess Peach, throwing snow and running into each other. We were probably a menace to the other sledders, but then again we were free entertainment.
The Praeda is a 7km starting with a leisurely train ride up to the top. This road is never plowed in winter, designated solely for winter sledding tourists. Stepping off the red passenger train, the herd of people make their way past the small restroom hut to the crest where hundreds of sled tracks have pressed down the snow. I got on my sled and pushed off, figuring I’d have to get down sooner or later! Funny, that was the same thing my brother told me as he taught me how to snowboard and bypassed the bunny hill to a 2 mile run…coldest 3 hours of my life.
I digress.
Anyways, the steering came quickly as it was learn or die. More like learn or crash. Dodging adults, kids, and babies my fast little sled carried me swiftly to the bottom of the hill. I only crashed into one person but that was because she was sitting in the middle of a corner like she was Heidi snow princess. (Heidi’s Hollywood village was visible from Bergun).
At the bottom and feeling rather successful about my steering accomplishments, I leveled up with the boys and we went to the hardest sledding run on the mountain: The Dar Lux. From the safety of the ski lift veteran Marshall and I dissected the run weaving between the trees below our feet.
“Oh, there’s part of it.”
“You mean that little deer path?”
“Yeah.”
No more wide roads.
“So…basically it’s a switchback?”
“Yep. See those boards? They’re to prevent you from falling off the mountain if you don’t make the turn.”
Great.
The Dar Lux was everything promised: steep, fast, bumpy, icy, dangerous, narrow, challenging, scary, and fun. The fun part came after I was in the clear at the end of the run, prideful at surviving the gauntlet of obstacles. I only crashed twice, both because of other people in the way. It took a considerable amount of concentration. Sure, there were boards on the corners, but if you moved your weight on a straightaway you could still hurl off the mountainside where there is no guard.
My second run later in the day wasn’t so graceful. I let my guard down a bit and was more careless, trying to pass everyone and making hard cuts on the corners. I wiped out lots of times on that one but it was more exciting.
My second run on the Praeda, having run the Dar Lux, was now like walking through a field of prairie flowers. We played Mario Kart and took on characters Yoshi, Bowser, and Princess Peach, throwing snow and running into each other. We were probably a menace to the other sledders, but then again we were free entertainment.
At the end of the day I walked through town to admire the architecture and flavor of the area. I love the public fountains in European cities.
Regrouping at the hotel lobby we dried off and packed up the cars for the long ride home. Did you know a hamburger in Switzerland costs 17 bucks at McDonalds?! Not that I would eat it normally, but this is insane.
Regrouping at the hotel lobby we dried off and packed up the cars for the long ride home. Did you know a hamburger in Switzerland costs 17 bucks at McDonalds?! Not that I would eat it normally, but this is insane.
After that long car ride we cleaned up our gear and coolers of brownie crumbs. Time for New Years!
The Blumenplatz or town center was filled with people of all ages setting off rockets. Some small crackers and fountains were occasionally interrupted by a booming m-80, but overall it was an atmosphere of loud fireworks and sulfur.
Cigarettes.
Champagne.
Friends.
Smoke.
Bottle rocket sticks hitting cars.
Christmas lights.
Warm coats.
Toasts.
Kissing.
Roman candles.
Church bells.
These are the elements of New Years.
Friends from church had an open house so we walked in from the streets in overcoats and comfy pajamas. (We’d spent the entire day in the car and alps).
The chic house was gently arranged for company and seasonal smells wafted from the kitchen. That’s where the sharply dressed houseguests were congregated, sipping their glasses of spirits and chatting in distinguished, lively voices. Our ragamuffin cousin clan inched along the cabinets towards the group, imagining rather than believing our smoke-infused garments would not offend the hosts. They graciously offered us a toast and we stayed for a little bit until the children went to bed. We excused ourselves accordingly and sheepishly donned our mismatched mufflers after handing back the empty goblets. I felt like a bum, coming in off the street just to get warm and have a drink…but that’s kinda what we did.
That’s it then. The New Year is here. I don’t have a resolution but returning to America all of a sudden became a lot closer.
The Blumenplatz or town center was filled with people of all ages setting off rockets. Some small crackers and fountains were occasionally interrupted by a booming m-80, but overall it was an atmosphere of loud fireworks and sulfur.
Cigarettes.
Champagne.
Friends.
Smoke.
Bottle rocket sticks hitting cars.
Christmas lights.
Warm coats.
Toasts.
Kissing.
Roman candles.
Church bells.
These are the elements of New Years.
Friends from church had an open house so we walked in from the streets in overcoats and comfy pajamas. (We’d spent the entire day in the car and alps).
The chic house was gently arranged for company and seasonal smells wafted from the kitchen. That’s where the sharply dressed houseguests were congregated, sipping their glasses of spirits and chatting in distinguished, lively voices. Our ragamuffin cousin clan inched along the cabinets towards the group, imagining rather than believing our smoke-infused garments would not offend the hosts. They graciously offered us a toast and we stayed for a little bit until the children went to bed. We excused ourselves accordingly and sheepishly donned our mismatched mufflers after handing back the empty goblets. I felt like a bum, coming in off the street just to get warm and have a drink…but that’s kinda what we did.
That’s it then. The New Year is here. I don’t have a resolution but returning to America all of a sudden became a lot closer.
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