A mountain adventure!
‘’This is his mountain, not mine, and he’s determined to show me a good time, whether I go willingly or not. The sledge begins to talk to me. Keep the momentum, you’ll need it, he says. Don’t forget your seatbelt, he says. Enjoy the view, he says. This is my mountain, he says’’.
Mt. Niederhorn
First off, I used my GoPro to video the whole thing! The link is at the bottom of the article! CHECK IT OUT!
I had arrived that afternoon at the summit of Mt. Niederhorn (1,963 M), having admired the spectacular scenery of Switzerland as I passed through and up that morning. I had already been on a train, a bus and a cable car to reach the summit. I had glimpsed the glistening smooth waters of Lake Lucerne and Lake Brienz, as well as the innumerable snowy peaks of the Swiss Alps high above. I had passed humble cabins in snowy valleys and wide green fields. But I hadn’t seen any cows or heard any bells. I had eaten a chocolate pastry, but no cheese.
As I stepped out of the cable car, I breathed in the fresh, mountain air, surveying my surroundings with deep-rooted pleasure. For me, there is something so cleansing, so righteous, so fulfilling, in admiring the beautiful scenery of the natural world. The sun is dazzling, reflecting off the deep snow. I admire the detail of the pine trees, their individual branches outlined by a thin coating of snow. They stand together tall and proud.
Beyond them, through the drifting clouds, I catch glimpses of the mighty Swiss Alps. The mountain seduces and teases me, offering its views freely, only to cover up once more as the clouds condense. It is a tantalising mistress, one I will never forget; one I will always end up going back to. Ok, focus please.
Today, I am to be more than a gawking tourist snapping photos. Today, I take on the mountain. I will sledge down its slopes as I please. At least, that’s what I had in mind. The sledge clearly had a different idea. I wouldn’t be in control, he would be.
The moment I tentatively eased myself in, the sledge is off like a turbo charger. I dig in my heels to no avail. This is his mountain, not mine, and he’s determined to show me a good time, whether I go willingly or not. The sledge begins to talk to me. Keep the momentum, you’ll need it, he says. Don’t forget your seatbelt, he says. Enjoy the view, he says. This is my mountain, he says.
What an unforgettable experience, so much fun. One minute I am rushing downhill, my adrenaline pumping. I can sense the soft green blurs of trees flanking my vision as I carve my way through a snowed in pine woodland. Suddenly, there’s a sharp left and I find myself frantically digging in my heels, spraying up snow. Lifting one foot up, I slowly start to turn, like a great ship lumbering around at sea. There’s no way I’m turning quickly enough so I decide in that split second to bail. I didn’t fancy careering off into the deep powder of the unknown.
I’ve learnt my first very important sledging lesson. In fact, I’ve learnt two. No, three. In fact, I’ve learnt none, but at least I'm aware of them. First, taking a sharp corner at speed is very difficult. You should break early; sound advice which my wild side refuses to accept. Second, bailing on a sledge doesn’t hurt at all. You are falling one foot, you roll a few times less than an ‘’injured’’ footballer, then you’re up again twice as quick. No foul. Third, and this one is definitely the most important, DON’T LET GO OF YOUR SLEDGE.
My lord, just don’t let go. You wouldn’t believe how fast that sledge takes off the minute your weight is gone. I tried not to take that too personally. It practically disappeared in the blink of an eye. Except, I didn’t even have time to blink, because in an act of uncharacteristic bravado, I was off sprinting down the slope after it after I had nimbly commando rolled to the feet. Really, there was no point. I would not be catching that sledge.
There were several possible eventualities. Most likely, the sledge would be greedily swallowed up by the mountain. It could possibly hit into a tree, slow down in the powder or lose its momentum rushing uphill. It might even be intercepted by an eagle eyed human. Watching it go, I got the distinct feeling that sledge really wanted to be free. As if somewhere over the mountain there is a place it can go, to be with its own kind, liberated from the yoke of its cruel overlord. Again, I tried not to take this too personally. I barely knew that sledge.
Miraculously, someone did stop my sledge. By accident. My friend Mark had stopped up ahead to wait for and was drifting in a most pleasurable reverie as he stared out across the panoramic views of the Swiss Alps. My sledge rudely ploughed into the small of his back, snapping him to attention. ‘’Thank God’’, I uttered breathlessly, when I finally caught up. Under Mark’s judging eye, I gave the sledge a scalding glare, hoping to persuade him it was the sledges fault.
I took this opportunity for a short break, sitting down to catch my breath and admire the stunning scenery. As the adrenaline fades, I feel rejuvenated by the fresh mountain air. What do I see? The Swiss Alps, pine trees, a singular sculpted trail carved through the deep banks of snow, disappearing round the bend. I fall in love for the umpteenth time. Time for a selfie.
Next thing I know, the GoPro is rolling and I’m picking up speed once more. Suddenly I’m clear of the woods, emerging into a wide open clearing. There is a single cabin in sight off to the left as I follow the bumpy trail slightly downhill, passing along the purple flag markers.
Finally, the trail rises up slightly and we have lost our momentum. For now, we would be on foot, our sledges sliding humming along behind us like little hobbits. For the first time, Mark and I can discuss our initial experiences. ‘’How many times did you fall?’’, I ask, ‘’I fell at least five times!’’. ‘’How are not getting blinded by the snow?’’, Mark bemoans, ‘’I could barely see!’’. We both laugh. We’ve had a lot of fun, two amateurs with no real clue how to sledge, having it large in Switzerland. ‘’Do you fancy trying to go head first?’’, I enquire sweetly. ‘’I don’t think that’s a good idea!’’, Mark replies wistfully.
I wink. I turn. I start to sprint, pulling the sledge alongside. I judge my timing, licking my licks, eyeing up the moving sledge. I jump. I land. I fall. I laugh. I hear Mark laughing behind me. I get up. I dust myself down. I resume walking.
In the end, we completed the run twice. We had really wanted to go a third time, but daylight was running out and the last cable car down was close at hand. So we chose the lesser of two delights, a hot coffee and a slice of chocolate cake at the small mountain café. All of this had been included in our Sledging day pass, which turned out to be great value.
As the sun set, I trudged back to the rental station with rosy cheeks, pulling my sledge behind me. The sledge has gone mischievously quiet. ‘’It’s OK?’’, the Swiss man says in broken English. He is smiling with a queer look in his eye. I suspect he knew full well that he had given me a troublesome sledge.
‘’It was exhilarating’’, I pant, handing over the reins.