Plummer’s Hollow by sled


Video link.

It’s cold. Nothing to do but pull on a thick balaclava, grab the sled, and go steaming up the hill to the top of what we call the amphitheatre, in the field opposite the main house. We have never actually staged anything there, by the way — it’s a little too boggy at the bottom where a stage would go. The only real drama occurs when the feral cat tangles with the opossum in the compost heap above the barn… or when a 42-year-old sledder comes careening down the path, camcorder in one hand.

It’s funny that sledding has such a stigma as being only for children. I’ve been sledding for most of the past 40 winters, at least 30 of them with the same sled, and I’m not about to switch to skiing or snowboarding, which I suspect are seen as adult sports primarily because they require lots of expensive gear. For one thing, I have a terrible sense of balance. Also, I wear glasses: when a friend lent me a pair of cross-country skis for a couple of years, I found myself unable to enjoy them because my glasses kept steaming up and freezing. I decided I prefer slow walking to running/gliding. And the great thing about sledding, after the hurtling, bone-rattling descent, is the peaceful walk back. Ravens flush from the top of a hemlock, filling the hollow with their harsh cries. The snow squeaks — such a satisfying sound — under my boots.

Long after I get back,
my frozen breath is still dripping
from my beard.

Filed in Greatest Hits, Personal/Political, Plummer's Hollow, Poems & poem-like things, Video and tagged . Bookmark the permalink. Post a comment or leave a trackback: Trackback URL.Print Print

14 Responses to Plummer’s Hollow by sled

  1. Evan says:

    My chemistry students start the year by contrasting physical change vs. chemical change. I think they’re going to get a quiz question next time: “Is ice melting from Dave’s beard: physical or chemical change?”

    I love the concept of exhaled water being the ‘smoke’ from our food combustion.
    O2 + C6H12O6 –> H2O + CO2.
    And I love the thought that the hydrogen atoms in the original food may have come from an ancient aquifer that resurfaced as corn irrigation, spent a summer in an ear of grain, and then spent a year or so in a mammal before being eaten by we sledders.

    I am also envious of the long-term stability represented by use of a single sled over multiple decades.

  2. dale says:

    I was bummed by being priced out of skiing, which used to be a perfectly affordable activity you did on a couple waxed boards with a bunch of other unfashionable geeks. Hurrah for sledding!

  3. marja-leena says:

    Sounds like great fun, especially when you have your very own hill! Our young grandkids had fun in our sloping backyard when we had all that snow in December, when usually we’d have to drive up to the mountain and face crowded slopes. I lost interest in sledding when I hurt my tailbone badly on a rough patch.

    Cross-county skiing was fun and not too expensive back when we lived in gentle hilly country, but nowadays it’s too terrifying and challenging for me on the mountains around here.

  4. Robb says:

    Kia ora Dave,
    That has to be the best sled run ever! And what an amazing looking sled. You had me pining for Wisconsin as we don’t get much sledding our way here in New Zealand, but man that reminded me of where I come from. The last time I used a sled was 1996 when I was home at Christmas and I still recall that day. Cheers!
    Rangimarie,
    Robb

  5. Ken Wagner says:

    You were way down the hill before I realized I was smiling. Nice tour of your property – and frame-of-mind.

    I hadn’t listened to NIN since their first album. Good tune choice!

  6. Kat says:

    Yay sledding! I’ve been skiing and snowboarding once each, and while perhaps with more dedication they would become fun for me, sledding was fun the first time and just gets better. We use little plastic Swiss Bobs – just the right weight and size to hike up and and then sled down a mountain. Don’t know if they’ll last 30 years, though.

  7. Wow, Dave. I smiled all the way through this, too. As I’ve always said, “It’s never too late to have a happy childhood!” Buck looked at it and said, “You know, that boy still has a lot of puppy in him.” (Uh, in case you can’t tell, that’s HIGH praise. . .) Nifty video.

  8. Lori Witzel says:

    Wwhhhheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!

  9. David Harmon says:

    Pretty cool… I just went to visit some snow up in Connecticut, but it was too cold to spend much time outside, even for the kids.

    I suspect the reason why most adults give up on sledding is less about “stigma” than durability — between the square-cube law and other details (q.v. “God loves fools, children, and drunkards”), children can take a crash that would seriously hurt an adult. (On the flip side, adults are more cautious when they do go sledding! q.v. Calvin and Hobbes….)

  10. Peter says:

    That’s a long run! I was wondering how long you were going to keep going; that last thirty seconds looked challenging. Going off-road didn’t look like too much fun.

    I had a Radio Flyer for years — a good, short one that got bumped into kindling eventually. My old place at college had a fill wall that afforded a four-foot jump. What a great run that was! Currently, we have an okay hill, but we haven’t had any real snow this year. I love sledding, even at 51. I wouldn’t dream of stopping.

  11. bev says:

    Whoa! That’s one great sledding run!
    What a wonderful trip down the mountain.
    When I was young,
    we had a couple of nice toboggans
    and a big aluminum flying saucer
    with canvas strap handles.
    The saucer was great fun.
    I liked how it would spin around backwards
    and then you would be airborne for a
    second or two before zooming on
    down the hills.
    Now, if it would snow here this winter,
    I can tell you that from my place
    up here on the mountain,
    I could probably sled all the way
    down to Sierra Vista.
    It’s downhill all the way!

  12. Dave says:

    Hey, thanks for all the comments! I’m glad you enjoyed watching this as much as i enjoyed filming it.

    One reader who is familar with the road emailed to say she wished I’d gone a little faster. it’s not as scarey as it looks.

    I do find it a little harder to sled now than i did fifteen years ago: going prone no longer feels too fun, and of course it’s a bit harder to maintain control sitting up.

    We did buy a new toboggan last year, ostensibly for my niece, so if the snow gets too deep for the sled we can use that.

  13. Jean says:

    That’s only half way, huh? You’ve no idea how impressive this to one with memories -all too few- of very, very short sled runs and coaxing it over the bumps where the snow was already melting.

  14. [...] sledding video from last winter was such a success, I thought I’d try it again this year. The conditions were pretty icy and [...]

Leave a Reply

Your email is never published nor shared. Required fields are marked *

*
*

URLs are converted to links, and three or more links in one comment will cause it to be sent to the moderation queue. Constructive criticism is always welcome. You may use these HTML tags and attributes: <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <strike> <strong>

  • Smorgasblog

    • Metaphors for the Moon
      Early marriage is a wetland, a marsh
      of co-mingling reeds, breeding birds.

    • Cleaning My Attic
      Cast-iron Royal, weighty and not regal at all but seriously proletarian, ostensibly portable in your anonymous black case: my secret unmusical instrument, which I lugged to cafes before they were wireless or even wired...

    • Clumps and Voids
      The program description, however, devolves into the fey. "The lingam (or linga) is a cylindrical votary object that represents the Hindu god Shiva, and a dispute about its meaning has been going on for many centuries." When a phallus is tagged with the museum label of "cylindrical votary object," I lose hope that the speaker will be introduced as Professor Wendy Doniger: don of dongs.

    • botanizing
      On calm days, the soil swirls and rises in isolated twisters. On a windy day when the wheat is being harvested — a day like today — the soil lifts like a yellow curtain, obliterating the sky.

    • The Twitching Line
      My uncle, gutting a fish:
      removing the fins from either side,
      tipping the knife below

      the little anus, pointing the tail-
      end away, slitting it to the gills,
      then plunging in a hand

      to scoop the organs out, soft
      and scarlet as a litter of kittens.

    • The Ordinary and the Wild
      I had a dream the other night about a tall machine, like a crane or an android giraffe, lanky with angles of metal that reach up to the sky when they should somehow be digging. When I woke I felt taller for a moment, and also deeper, as if the soles of my feet had met up with some spilled honey or errant tar while I walked in my sleep.

    • Busily Seeking... Continual Change
      So the mountain was steep? I threw a couple of windbreakers, yogurts and miscellaneous snacks (really, whatever I could lay my hands on at the last minute), wallet, phone, bottles of water--yes, just the things I thought to grab into a new REI bright yellow daypack--and off we went. That was it. Toss things in a bag and go.

    • Chatoyance
      And on the other side, what I
      set in motion: the open field, the low hill,
      a crease scored in bent blades of grass
      where I forgot the wall stood,
      my footsteps blurring as the
      grass unbends.

    • Velveteen Rabbi
      There are trade-offs: in the womb we knew perfect intimacy, but couldn't meet. Now we are separate, which is at once the source of loneliness (especially for him, I'm guessing) and the source of our ability to connect.

    • Will Buckingham
      My small guide and I then did our double-act of worshipping at the shrine, at which point the monk then declared that, once again, I was not doing it right. There followed another twenty minute lesson in proper bowing -- different from the previous lesson, in fact -- and if I have retained anything it is that one’s feet must be aligned like the lines in the number 8 -- an auspicious number in China.

  • "On the whole I concentrated on things and people that I found charming and splendid; my notes are also full of poems and observations on trees and plants, birds and insects."
    — Sei Shonagon, 994 A.D.

`