Sledding, the very word brings about images of laughing, bundled cherubs flying down a hill at breakneck speed, bouncing and careening helter skelter without any control what so ever. It is perhaps, in my opinion one of the single greatest things a child can experience, and as an adult it only gets better. When I was a kid growing up in upstate NY, winter was looked at with great anticipation...was it going to be a good snow year, or a poor snow year. Without snow, you just cant sled...or can you?
Quite possibly, one of my greatest childhood memories, involves sledding, some snow, and a cow pasture. Now, while that image takes a few seconds to sink in, I can assure you, it is as bizzare as it sounds. This one winter was particularly stingy when it came to snow. It wouldnt stay cold enough, or long enough to give the ground a good solid freezing, and if the ground isnt cold enough, snow just wont stick. This year we hadnt had many opportunities to sled, because even though it would snow at night when it was colder, by early the next morning the thaw had occured, and poof, there goes the fun. Well, on one particular weekend I was asked by my best friend if I could spend the night. It was quickly cleared through my parents, and off I went. There was a promise of a cold snap, and we were hopeful that we could finally get some sledding in, especially as the cold snap promised at least 6 to 7 inches of nice wet snow. Wet snow is the best for sledding, because it packs down, powdery snow just isnt substantial enough, its too poofy, and doesnt allow for a trail to be blazed, and slicked. Things were looking up.
When we went to bed the night of the big storm, it was just starting to flurry, we could hardly sleep, it was worse then Christmas Eve, morning couldnt come soon enough. When morning did finally come, we werent dissapointed. Outside the grey, bleak landscape had been transformed into a winter wonderland, sledding was on! We quickly filled our bellies with fuel for the day, and bundeled up, ready for a day of bliss. Once outside however, we found that it wasnt as cold as it should've been, in fact it was borderline freezing...time was of the essence. We quickly concluded that we wouldnt have enough time to reach our normal sledding hill, and would have to make due with a hill closer to his house. Here is where the cow pasture comes into play, you see, my friend lived on a farm, and the closest hill was the one behind the cow barn.
Now, when we looked at the hill, all we saw was approximatly 100 yards of untouched pristine hill, a nice slope, and plenty of run out space before we hit the fence, it all looked good to us, and up we went. It was cold enough that for the first hour or so we were flying, and the trail kept getting faster, things couldnt have been better. But as the sun approached the noon sky, it began to warm up. We didnt neccesarily see this as a bad thing, as we werent getting cold therefore we could sled longer. It was all about maximizing hill time. We were even so creative as to build a ramp near the bottom of the hill so we could get a little air. It was one of the best times I could remember that winter, and it was about to get better.
Im not even sure when the transition started, as we were oblivious to everything except who could get the most air, but at some point, our pristine white snow began to brown, the thaw was happening...funny thing was though, we werent slowing down on the sleds, in fact it seemed to us that we were getting faster. Even better, more air at the bottom of the hill, more wind rushing past us as we launched, time after time. At some point we noticed that we were starting to get wet, the snow was melting, and the pasture was coming to life so to speak. Im sure everybody knows what a majority of a cow pasture is, especially that close to a barn, but for those that are still unsure, its manure. Our snow had been replaced by a soupy mess of mud, snow and manure. But we didnt care. We kept going, and everytime we got air off the ramp we would land in a puddle of who knows what, and we loved it. We laughed so hard our sides hurt, life couldnt have been any better. But, all things must come to an end, and we decided it was probably time to head in and get some lunch.
We walked back to his house, trading stories of who got the most air, who had flown the farthest, who had come closest to the fence, oblivious to the fury we were about to encounter. When we reached his house we kicked our boots off, because shoes were not allowed in the house, and headed for the kitchen, dropping our jackets and snow pants as we went...that was when we ran into his mother. We were all smiles, and started yelling at her about how much fun we had had, one of us talking over the other, trying to speak, when we noticed her face. It was all contorted, like she smelled something bad...then she took a good look at us, and the trail we had left behind us. Id like to say she just yelled, but that would be an understatement, she screamed bloody murder. You see, Saturday was her cleaning day, and we had just trudged a weeks worth of manure and other such niceties through her clean kitchen, and we wrreked of stench, not like a swer, but more like that wet farm smell, that smell that is fine outside, but not inside. She marched us right back out the door, and made us strip naked outside, where she hosed us off, and then sent us in to take a bath. I know I saw her smiling at some point, you know boys will be boys, I even think she was a little envious at the fun we had had.
I have been sledding many times since, and had gone many times before, but nothing was as fun as that day in the pasture. We were on top of the world, and couldnt wait to go sledding again, too bad the pasture was off limits after that...at least for sledding. Maybe someday Ill tell you about the mudball fight we had....