The Pitfalls of Night Sledding

When I was home a few weeks ago over Thanksgiving break, it snowed. This is a rare phenomenon in Poulsbo, so it’s kind of a big deal. At about 9:30 at night, my little brother, Tyler, and I looked out into the dark abyss, and realized it was snowing again. Hard. We looked at each other and had the same thought.

Yes. It was time to go sledding.

We bundled up, strapped on our headlights, dug the sleds out from under the house and trekked out to the road near our house. I live in the woods where there are no streetlights, and with the clouds overhead, it was completely dark except for our headlights and the lights of a few houses tucked into the trees.

We had a great time zooming down the hill through the darkness. With ski goggles and a head light shining on the snow falling, it made me feel like I was in a Star Wars movie traveling at light speed.

At one point, we were climbing back up the hill when Tyler said, “Aw man! My sock fell off in my boot.” Once he reached the top of the hill, he plopped himself on his sled, took off his boot and his glove and proceeded to retrieve his sock from the depths of his boot when suddenly, he began to slide.

“Oh no! Oh no!” he cried as his sliding slowly picked up speed. He desperately tried to stop himself with his elbow and non-bootless foot, to no avail. Since he only had one good foot to drag in the snow, the physics of the matter, combined with the speed increase sent him whirling into a spiral.

As I mentioned, it was completely dark out there, but it just so happened that his headlight was shining directly on the instigator of this whole ordeal—his bare foot.

So there I was, sitting on my sled at the top of the hill, witnessing in much amusement as a glowing white foot sticking straight in the air spiraled down the hill through a snowstorm with ever increasing speed, all to the sound of Tyler’s muffled cries.

This, my friends, is my kind of sledding.