Quote:
Next, after the solid ice surprise, came another. The angle of the narrow trail increased from 5 degrees to 25 degrees to OHMYGOD degrees. The sides of the trail rose on each side. I began to hear shouts from the long line of troops behind me. Perhaps a few curses. They faded away as the wind in my ears drowned out everything else after a few seconds. I wouldn't have been able to hear them anyway over the screams of terror. Mine.
Once you're skiing down an Olympic Luger trail (without the r), You don't have a lot of control. I suppose that's why they put up those 'Eintritt Verboten" signs. If you ever see an Eintritt Verboten sign turn around immediately. Germans, not known for their impish sense of humor, never kid about those.
So down we went at ever increasing speed. then we hit a corner. I'd never skied on a wall like that. Some of the guys took that opportunity to shoot right up and out of the Trail 'o Death at that point. Actually I'm not sure that it was by choice. I think they were yelling "Yahoo" but, as I said, I couldn't hear too well from the wind rushing in my ears..
Down, down, down we sped as I alternately prayed and cursed. Sometimes I was on my skis, sometimes my butt, I even went down backwards at one point. It seemed I could hear demonic laughter in the chattering of the skis. After what seemed like 12 or 15 hours on this e-ticket ride the trail widened out. The tall ice sides dropped down. It straightened out, flattened out and ended
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Guys its late - and I'm tired - but Bob, your story is very familiar, on a smaller scale - I will relate the rest of it tomorrow if time permits. But, my story does include the following elements:
A Luge trail ( but the locals called it a Rodel Bahn."
Beer.
Schnaps.
Dark of night.
Speed.
Pain.
Ripped pants.
Safetypins.
Faschingzeit.
At least seven, soon to be in pain, SF daredevels.
One of them being me.