The Weekly Letter
Supersonic sleds looking good
A new year is a great time for a reset and restart. For many, 2012 won’t face much of a challenge as it seeks to improve upon 2011. (Consider the Boston Red Sox.) On the other hand, 2011 was kind to our family. Dan had time to exercise, lose weight and spend time with Nazy. The Swiss government funded Nazy’s research project and the European patent office offered protection. Much to Mitra and Stefan’s delight, Oxygen Tango’s revenue doubled. Darius filled his standard passport and his extra page addendum. Melika won a mud race, was promoted and Porsched
At the end of last week’s episode we were regaling Mitra, who had stayed home to work, about swimming pools full of Gruyere cheese and fondue with pitchforks. After we described the heavenly sights of Moutier, we astutely decided that we should arrange a departure time so that we’d arrive (a sledding expedition to the Alps) before sunset. That meant:
“We will leave at 8:30AM,” Darius declared.
“I can’t possibly stay up that late,” Melika replied. “8:30AM?” Nazy thought. “Isn’t that before the Big Bang?”
“And, ladies, you’ll need to pick your snow clothes tonight,” I interjected.
“Why?” Mitra asked.
“Because I know how long it takes,” I said. “Would you rather get up at 3:00 AM to complete the process?” I thought.
“I didn’t bring ski clothes,” Melika noted.
“You can wear some of mine,” Nazy replied.
“Which ones? Because, when I go out, I want to look good. And,” Melika continued carefully examining each of us individually, “I want the people who are with me to look good, too. Now! How old are these ski clothes?”
The Family collectively responded in silence and continued eating Persian rice. After dinner, Nazy rounded up (and piled up) the ski jackets, ski pants, ski gloves, silk underwear, woolen socks and knitted hats. I was astonished to see Melika depart the pile with a smile. But...
“Those are leggings and they are not waterproof,” Nazy said.
“Don’t worry, Mom. These look good,” Melika replied.
We left for Flumserberg, which has a 3 kilometer sledding trail, before 9:00AM. Although there was a lot of fog in Zurich, the sky cleared as we drove to ‘base camp’. When we arrived, Nazy surveyed the sled run and then decided to enjoy herself on the mountain without partaking in the downhill slide.
We took a small gondola to the top and rented four sleds. Nazy listened to detailed instructions (in German) that covered trivial matters like braking and steering. She tried to convey that information, but Mitra was the only one in the group who showed interest.
“It’s simple enough; I’m sure I’ll figure it out on the way down.” Dan, Darius and Melika thought.
Nazy installed herself on the top of the mountain, pulled out her watercolors and began to paint. The rest of us moved to the slope. Darius and Melika took off first. Mitra and I followed. My (defective) sled, which had no brake pedal, continuously veered to the left and quickly accelerated.
“I wonder how fast I’m going?” I thought - just before crashing into a mound of snow that had built up where the trail turned to the right. As I brushed snow out of my beard, Mitra slid by (in the middle of the trail) and adroitly turned to the right. She continued downhill and passed Melika and Darius who had slammed into a different snow knoll. We quickly lost sight of Mitra.
A few collisions later, I turned onto a narrow and steep section of the run. Although my sled was clearly defective (it couldn’t be steered), I had learned to brake by forcefully driving my boots into the snow. Even though I saw Melika and Darius crash into the snow at the bottom, I started my fateful run confidently. As I began my plunge, I dug my heels into the snow in front of the sled.
“This may not stop the sled,” I thought, “but it will certainly slow it down.” Then ice and snow, kicked up by my heels, began hitting my face with momentum and force. “I can’t see where I’m going,” I thought. Nevertheless, I knew that when I hit the snow pile at the bottom of the trail, I would come to an abrupt, if possibly painful, stop. I didn’t know that:
Repeated collisions earlier in the day had turned the snow pile into an ice pile.
Subsequent mishaps had transformed the ice pile into an ice ramp.
For the only time that day, my alignment was perfect. [I couldn’t see.] I vaguely heard a sonic boom as I hit the ramp at (very) high speed. The sled and I, launched two meters into the air, soon parted company. Because I was less aerodynamic than the sled, gravity overruled momentum and I landed flat on my butt. The sled continued through the air, over the river, across the adjacent ski run, and into the woods.
“That was great Dad!” Melika shouted as my sled slid out of sight. “Are you okay?”
“Well,” I replied, “I’m a..”
“Don’t worry, Dad,” Darius shouted as he pulled out a cell phone. “I’ve sent for horses and men.”
Melika and Darius shared a sled and we continued downward for about 15 minutes. Then Darius agreed to walk across the ski slope and to search for the aerobatic sled. He retrieved it in an adjacent forest. We arrived at the bottom of the hill about 30 minutes after Mitra.
“... and Dad was two meters in the air, Mitra!” Melika enthused. “Darius had to fetch the sled from the top of a tall tree.”
“You should have listened to Mom,” Mitra replied. “She had some really useful information.”
We all decided that another run was in order. Once again, Mitra finished first. Melika and Darius skirted most of the previous collision points and I careened downhill with the grace and charm of a pinball made of silly putty. After that, we decided that lunch was in order.
Following lunch, only Darius and I were interested in making an additional assault on the course. It turned out that the gentle morning bumps in the middle of the run had turned into enormous ridges and rills. The snow had become icy. Sled control, which had been marginal at best, was rendered more difficult. I retired to enjoy the beauty of the mountain. Darius took a final run and then we were ready to head home.
Dan after hitting the snow - face first.
