I’m not going to dress this up in bravado, so I will admit that neither Torbs or I slept that well the night before our first day on the Cresta. We’d scoped out the location the night before, and seen the legendary “Shuttlecock” corner from the “Vultures Nest” viewing platform and it looked very fast, icy and dangerous.We had to be at the clubhouse for 7am to kit-up and get on the riding list, which meant a very unwelcome 6am start. The run only opens in the morning, because after midday it’s too warm and the ice melts too much. On the drive down we spotted a strange looking fellow wearing what appeared to be plus-fours and a tatty jumper. “He’s probably on his way to the Cresta Run” joked Torbs.
As we walked through the changing room we were relieved to see suits of motorcross-style body armour hanging from a rack. We’d both brought back protectors (Torbs broke his a few years ago), and suddenly it looked as if we might have over compensated.
Sadly, the body armour belonged to members, and as beginners we had to make do with leather elbow pads and kneepads, accompanied by knuckle protectors. And a helmet, which we were helpfully told to “check it fits properly, you don’t want it falling over your eyes halfway down”. No shit Sherlock. The only other thing we were given were stout leather boots with “rakes” on the toes to give you some form of steerage / braking. (Though I later discovered that even if you dig them completely into the ice, they will never stop actually you, just realign your trajectory slightly)
Next stop was the clubhouse bar for the briefing from the Secretary. As we walked in we were blown away by what appeared to be a room full of people wearing plus-fours and slightly ratty jumpers. It was as if we had just jumped back a century into the middle of a foxhunt. Looking more closely, we could spot body armour underneath the outfits creating a slightly perverse hybrid of high tech safety equipment and 1800’s high fashion. (I should also point out that although the ages ranged from late 20’s to early 60’s, there was a pervasive smell of wealth through the room. Not newly made internet or stockbroker wealth, but old-school trust fund wealth.)
The Secretary opened by showing the 10 of us complete beginners a composite X-Ray that had been put together showing some of the injuries over the years. Broken necks, arms, backs, various plates and screws didn’t do a lot to reassure us. He then mentioned some rules, emphasised that we had just signed our lives away downstairs on a small piece of paper, and pointed out that people had died on the Cresta Run. Which was nice.
We were then introduced to our “Guru” who simply wanted us to make it down intact in about 70 seconds (the fastest riders make it in about 45 seconds with a push start). He didn’t want anyone coming out at Shuttlecock as that just wastes one of our 5 rides. (He forgot to mention the potential for critical injury). We were introduced to our 30 kg face-down sleds and shown how in theory we steer using your toes. And then we were off.
The hardest part is the waiting. Essentially you lie face down and ready on your sled as soon as the previous rider goes off. You then have about 60 seconds to stare down the ice track and contemplate what’s about to happen. As your name is announced, the safety man removes his foot and off you go. The sled gains speed, and for the first time you can test your steering and brakes. You have no idea how effective they will be in advance because you can’t test them, so you really have to guess as you go down. The one other time I’ve suddenly realised I’m going to have to learn something so critical so quickly was on my first solo skydive when your parachute opens and it suddenly becomes clear you’ve never been taught how to steer one before.
After one run, 2 of the beginners had already decided they had had enough. Torbs and I caught our “Guru” sloping off after we’d done two runs to do some shopping. “Can you tell the others to try changing hands on Shuttlecock” he said making a motion not unlike a poor 70’s disco move. “Uh, OK” we said, not confident in our Cresta Run teaching abilities after just 2 runs.
But one positive is that once you’re round Shuttlecock (SC), you don’t really have to steer anymore – you’re along for the ride. Post-SC you might get banged about a bit, but you can’t come out of the track. Survive SC and you survive the run. Get it wrong and you’re flying though the air with 30 kg of solid sled towards a protective landing of snow and a bit of straw. The previous week someone had fractured 2 vertebrate coming off at speed.
The thing is it’s addictive. One run and we were hooked. By the bottom you’re doing 50mph + headfirst on ice – that’s a good rush. I’m not saying the butterflies aren’t there beforehand, but you really do relish it. By the end of the second day we had done 7 runs and decided that it was probably time we called it quits. Partly because it was costing 50 Swiss Francs for every hit of adrenaline, partly because we were down to 55 seconds and getting quite competitive, and partly because we knew that you can push your luck a little too far.
Note: I managed (upsetting our Guru) to get my Helmet Camera on during the days, so I’ve included a video of my closest “run in” with Shuttlecock. I over-cooked it and should have been thrown out of the corner (to the extent I had straw stuck under my sled!) but somehow crashed back in and survived. Don’t ask me how, just enjoy….
