Thrills and spills
SWISS TRADITION | Excite your inner child while sledging down a hill at 30 mph
ALAIS REGION, Switzerland -- Like a modern scene out of a Norman Rockwell painting, swaddled in my finest ski clothes, I sat up straight and held on to a rope attached to the front runners of my little sled. Here on the Gemmi slopes, in the Valais region of Switzerland, I experienced my first "sledge," or precisely, a "schlitteln" in German.
My feet stuck out the front awkwardly, but eventually I realized their purpose. Gathering up my courage, I scuffled to the top of a sledge run, and off I went. Down the run and immediately out of control, zooming low and fast like a crazy winter dwarf, I soon plowed into the nearest snow bank I could find. Laughing, somewhat embarrassed and covered with heavy wet snow, I climbed back on and continued my descent. My friends were up ahead, with snow-covered clothes and upside down sledges, just like me.
(Bob Ecker/For the Sun-Times)
Times: From 9 a.m.-4:30 p.m., unless night sledging is available.
Costs: Usually about 6-10 CHF (Swiss francs) an hour for adults, 5 CHF for children. Free for young children. Costs can be higher for long runs with shuttle or lift tickets included.
Lift tickets: 6-20 CHF a person.
Getting there: Swiss-Switzerland National Airline, www.swiss.com, flies nonstop from Chicago to Zurich, then Geneva. Many other airlines also fly into Geneva and Zurich.
"Sledging" is a winter sport that takes place throughout Switzerland, and is marvelous for everyone. The Swiss, born with snow, seem to have no trouble at all joyously sledging down steep narrow runs, turning at will, and stopping wherever they want. I saw one woman with an infant clutching her chest, go whoosh and out of sight without a bump, scratch or fall. (American lawyers would have a field day here!) Families can sledge together because it's easy, loads of fun and even when you fall, the snow is soft.
These sledges, many handsomely designed out of handcrafted seasoned Swiss ash, or laminated beechwood with sharp metal runners, are meant to fly -- going straight and fast is what they do best. Unfortunately, at least for neophytes like me, sledges don't really stop and they can hardly steer. Ostensibly riders use their legs and weight transference to turn, but in reality steering is a luxury. As for brakes, your heels are used, Fred Flintstone style to dig into the snow to at least slow you down. When braking as hard as possible (a clear sign of a frightened sledger), human snow blowers emerge, creating virtual fountains of snow that turn riders into action-figure snowmen. It's an amusing sight, and everyone around guffaws, but don't forget that the next object of amusement is likely to be you.
Make no mistake, some runs called schlittelbahns are precipitous, fortunately the steepness is mitigated by the fact you're near ground level. When zipping along, you can really feel the bumps, which come up frequently. Occasionally sledges even go airborne. When you land, ouch -- you feel it, especially with a wooden or aluminum seat. Turns, of course, come up, and navigating a sharp curve at 30 mph is a challenge.
On the Les Diablerets 7.2 km (almost 4?206-140? miles) long run, more than once I had to trudge a bit before finding my sledge. Once I was picked up by a total stranger, hopped on the of his sledge -- he turned out to be a British traveler -- and kept going until I spotted my sledge awaiting me down the hill. Even though I had to walk a little, the setting sun hitting the mountain was gorgeous. Before sliding on, I admired the now twinkling lights of the small town of Les Diablerets below, where my friends, and a customary glass of Swiss wine awaited.
There's a traditional Swiss restaurant I visited that included sledging as the way for visitors to go home. Restaurant Weidstübli is on the lower portion of the mountain in Leukerbad, a famous thermal bathing area.
Besides providing a number of ski-related activities, the Leukerbad area is well known for its waters. Mentioned as far back as in Roman times, the region's "bathing tourism" began in 1501 when Roman Catholic Cardinal Matthäus Schiner acquired the rights to the thermal springs, and promoted Leukerbad as a spa/health resort.
Today, the famous Lindner Alpentherme attracts people from around the world to experience more than 250 wellness treatments including: Ayurveda, Chinese Medicine, Valais Vinotherapy and Roman-Irish baths among others. The nearby Burgerbad is the largest thermal water resort in Europe with 10 pools offering healing waters of varying types. These baths are a terrific way to unwind after a day on the slopes or to visit specifically for wellness treatments. Incidentally, the hot outdoor baths become a true party when the snow starts falling.
Every Wednesday night, they put on a traditional raclette feast, with copious amounts of cheese, singing and wine. To get to this restaurant, diners must first walk up through a snowy trail in the woods, in the dark. This seemed a bit crazy, but again, the Swiss are hardy people, and the snow illuminated the path well.
After an extremely healthy (read hot) half-hour hike, I finally entered the packed, noisy restaurant, shedded my winter clothes and gulped down a cold glass of refreshing Fendent white wine. For those unaware, raclette is a melted cow's milk cheese scraped onto plates, and served with bread. I preferred to sample the Rosti, a fried potato, onion and meat dish that went down wonderfully with the local wines.
Later, my companions and I headed back outside where the snow had resumed falling. A large number of sledges were parked nearby to be used by guests to slide on a ski run back down the mountain. By now, the snow was pretty thick. As we were getting ready to depart, a snowball appeared, then another, and another, and then -- oof -- one hit me in the back. We turned to see a few boys; they looked to be about 8 or 9, standing on the roof of the restaurant lazily lobbing snowballs at us.
My buddy and I scooped up some snow and fired back. Big mistake. Now the kids had a purpose and unveiled their fortress firepower. They rapidly unleashed a torrent of snowballs in our direction. We were clearly no match for those kids who laughed with devilish glee. We chuckled too, but soon, had to make a run for it because we were getting pummeled. Grabbing our sledges we hopped to the edge of the run, gave a big push and slid to the bottom. By now a semi "expert," I made it all the way down without falling. We parked our sledges near a shack at the bottom, along with a few others, to be picked up by the restaurant later. No one would dare to steal these wonderful, handy sledges in Switzerland.
Bob Ecker is a California-based free-lance writer.