King of the Mountain

The night was bitter cold, bone jarring, teeth chattering cold, and we were rearing to get out in the frigid night air. The icy temperatures were just what the doctor ordered because it would make the run down the hill that much faster, and that much more dangerous. In retrospect, I am amazed that our parents even let us out of the house that night, but this sledding party had been planned for a long time, and since it was a our church sponsoring and chaperoning it, they gave it their blessing, and so, out the door we went.

Unless you have experienced night sledding on moonlight lit roads deep in the mountains, then you have not really experienced sledding. We were not only going to be treated to some of the best sledding that we had ever experienced, we were also going to have a bon fire, hot dogs  roasted on sticks over the fire, homemade chili, and lots of hot cocoa to warm our frozen inwards when we got down to the bottom of the run. Oh, by the way, our destination for those of you who may be acquainted with the area was the awesome King’s Pass.

  King’s Pass offered a series of switch backs that ranged from some that were perfect for those less daring and adventurous, to some that only the seriously mentally deranged would tackle, especially on the conditions that existed that night.  An ice skating rink could not possibly be more treacherous under foot than King’s Pass was on that night. It was so slick that attempting to walk up while pulling our sleds behind us was a risky venture at best. As a matter of fact, if had to walk up each tome that we made a run, the night would probably have ended much sooner. Fortunately, one of the local Murray residents came by with his truck, and since he knew most of us. He volunteered to let us hook on the back of his truck while he pulled us up to the highest starting spot that we were going to launch from.

After three runs down the hill, I was suddenly hit with that inner shaking and chill that hurts from the top of the head to the soles of the feet. We call that sensation that we get from eat ice cream too quickly “brain Freeze”. I had whole body freeze. No amounts of piping hot chili, cocoa, or coffee deadened the pain of the whole body freeze. One member of my body that did not seem to be hurting was my right foot. I took my boot off because it was so noticeable that my foot did not share in the pain parade that the rest of his members were feeling. Taking off my boot, I was astonished to see that my foot was a white color, and it was completely numb by now.

By now I was more than done with King’s Pass, sledding, cocoa, and friends. I just wanted the evening to end and to go home to a warm house and bed. Finally, the night ended, and we loaded up and drove over Dobson Pass and arrived safely back in Wallace. By now, the only away that I could walk was with a pronounced limp.

My parents were already in bed by the time that I got home. My mother did call out to me as I hobbled up the stairs and inquired it we had a good time. I told her that we had a great time. After all, there is nothing more fun than the camaraderie of peers all laughing, talking, and boasting about how we were not afraid of those deadly hairpin curves, those monstrous switchbacks, and the possibility of flying off of the side, and dropping hundreds of feet into eternity. Of course, if we had all been honest, we were all very afraid, but when you are young, fear is fun, is it not?

My foot remained stiff all weekend, and as it begin to unthaw, the pain was awful. I was fortunate that I did not suffer permanent damage, but in a few days, it was as good as new. I sill smile when I think of that night. I drove my wife up there a few years ago, she being home Baltimore had never see roads, trees, and scenery like our mountains have. As we took a side tour up King’s Pass, I, of course, inundated her with stories of bravado, and well, downright exaggerations of our exploits of that night, the night when indeed, we were the kings of the mountain.