Slip-Sliding Away

When Grandpa Stretch suggested that we take the kids tubing on New Year's Day I thought he was crazy. My intention for that day was to sleep in as long as I could and then sit on me arse watching college football. But my kids had never been sledding or tubing, and I decided that we should go. We found a park just down the street from my house, and while Kate and I hiked to the top of the hill with the kids, my Dad set up a space heater at the bottom and heated some water for hot chocolate.

Dad brought two tubes, while Kate and I brought our little orange disc. The tubes were perfect for the little kids because they weren't as fast. A couple of the sled runs had jumps built in. I took the little disc off of one of the jumps, and the kids were impressed. Kate decided to try it, and I warned her to be careful on the landing, as it was really hard. She took off down the hill with P Man on her lap. As she went off the jump Patrick flew up in the air and came down hard on top of her. He was fine, but Kate taught all the little kiddies on the hill a few new words.

This was my first time tubing since I was nearly killed on a hill at the Spruces Campground almost 17 years ago. We were on a Boy Scout over-nighter. We found out later that scouts aren't allowed to go tubing. Based on our experience I can understand why. That Saturday morning after breaking camp we found a perfect tubing hill. Well, nearly perfect. There were several boulders placed about ten feet apart across the bottom of the hill, probably to prevent people from tubing. But being the resourceful scouts that we were, we made a run on one side of the clearing, which curved off neatly before the rocks. We would hike halfway up the hill, place the tube on our ramp, and flew to the bottom, just to come to a nice gentle stop.


Eric and I had hiked to the top of our run when we heard the scout master call 'Last run!' We looked at each other and decided that the last run had to be the best, so we hiked the rest of the way up the hill and got a running start. We were both on the tube, heads pointed down hill. Because we were on fresh snow, we had no control, and missed the ramp. We were in the middle of the clearing. As speed increased I looked up to see one of he huge boulders screaming toward my face. My Dad was standing on top of the stone, holding the square nosed shovel that he had used to form our ramp.


We had no way to stop. As we approached the boulder, Dad reached out as far as he could and whacked the tube with the shovel. The handle even hit me in the ribs. I saw a grey blur as the stone whizzed past my face. I don't know if we would have hit the rock without the bump, but I am glad I don't know. Eric and I skidded to a stop and I rolled off the tube. 'Yep.' I said. "Last run. Let's go.' Coincidentally, the tubes we used this week were the same ones we used all those years ago. Of course my Dad still had them.

Samantha and Hannah on the bigger hill. Note the well-placed tires on the trees.

Samantha and Bean on the small hill just before Samanth rolled of the tube and dragged Bean's face through the snow.

I think Grandpa Stretch wore that same Utah Jazz/Doritos stocking cap on our last tubing trip 17 years ago.

This is me, surfing on the orange disc...

And this is me falling on my head.

My Dad was a little more skilled with the surfing. ButI am sure Chas could have schooled us all.

A good time was had by all. The crowds weren't too bad, and the weather was perfect. The kids have been begging to go again, and I promised to take them out this Saturday. The only problem is that we've had such warm weather this week that most of the snow is melted. They'll have to wait until the next snowstorm.

All pictures courtesy Allison Farnsworth