The first order of the day was to strap spiked “creepers” on our shoes as our coach, Olympian Mark Hatton, took three lucky would-be sliders for an inside the track walk down the Whistler Sliding Centre.
After the track walk, we headed up to the “Maple Leaf Start” for a few pointers on steering a luge. Minutes later, we were standing with our sleds by our start point when, over the track’s speakers, came the moment of truth: “Scott Roberts from the Maple Leaf start.”
Mind racing and heart thumping, I climbed over the wall and hopped on the luge for the first of three runs.
On our first run, Hatton told us to keep a sitting position with our feet on the ice for the first two corners, then we should lie back on the luge and enjoy the ride. With the “brakes on” for the start of the run, there was time to notice the track workers alongside the track and their amused expressions as they watched a rookie on the track.
Things changed quickly once you assumed the luge position. The feeling of acceleration was remarkable, as was the visual perspective looking between one’s feet as the next big corner quickly approached, bringing with it the realization that there was no stopping now.
Faster and faster you go and with each corner, the luge takes you a bit further up the wall before the transition to the next corner. With diminishing fear overcome by adrenalin, the ride quickly became the most exciting “speed” experience I’ve ever had and all too soon, I was past the finish line. What a rush — and all I could think was, “I can’t wait to go faster.”
Back at the start, Hatton gave us the green light to do just that. He still wanted us to start the run braking, but we could “assume the position” after the first corner. Carrying much more speed on the second run (and a bit too much confidence), I tried to steer the luge to a higher and faster line — bad idea, I quickly discovered.
I had over-steered, and coming out of the corner, I bounced off the wall. It didn’t hurt, but my gut knew that my ride was heading out of control even as the luge continued to pick up speed. Still more contact on the next corners and then seconds later, I was off the sled and sliding on my belly at 70-plus km/h.
I know it sounds strange, but it was a remarkably peaceful crash, with none of the tumbling “yard sale” aspect of a high-speed skiing crash. After coming to a stop and realizing that I was not hurt, it only took a couple of moments before I decided to give it another try.
This time my goal wasn’t to go faster. It was a much more modest objective — just stay on the sled and get to the finish line, which I did. Next year after the Olympics, I’m hoping to get back on the sled and this time I’ll be looking for a few more km/h.
