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February 2003 Issue |
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TOBOGGANING AT RIVERDALE PARK
Submitted by and copyright to © Lloyd (Punchy) Cully
Lloyd grew up in Cabbagetown, just before it was torn down to build Regent Park.The winters of my Cabbagetown childhood were just as miserable as the one we're suffering through right now. But that couldn't keep the kids indoors, there was just too much to do. Money wasn't plentiful so if we could find something to do for free, then all the better.
One of the most fun free things was tobogganing at Riverdale Park. The hills on the west side at the top of River Street were the best because they were steeper and faster than the Broadview side. The only problem with this side was that there was a footpath cut right into the side of the hill about halfway down, at least for the majority of it. This made it impossible to do a single, smooth, uninterrupted run to the bottom. To a lot of kids this was bad news, but we were daredevils, this hill was a challenge.
We'd load ourselves onto the toboggan at the top of the hill and push off. Down we'd go, picking up speed and momentum, faster and faster, our vision becoming a blur as we streaked down the hill, everybody holding on tight as we braced ourselves for the shock we were about to encounter at the halfway point. Wham, suddenly the front of the toboggan hit with a thud as we went from the almost vertical hill to the horizontal footpath. The rock salt, which at this speed acted like ball bearings, barely slowed us down and gave off an almost unbearable grinding sound as we flew across the path. Then an eerie silence and a wonderful feeling of weightlessness as we soared off the crest of the secondary hill, ten, maybe fifteen feet into the air we sailed. Since we never knew how long we'd be airborne we couldn't prepare for our landing. Then kaboom, we returned to the ground with a crash that caused the air to rush from our lungs. Hopefully our landing would be straight and true, otherwise we'd be tossed off and complete the slide on the seat of our pants, quite possibly leaving any exposed skin on the hard, icy surface of the hill. It was easy to extract ourselves from the toboggan if it twisted or did a back flip, but if it nose-dived we usually ended up as one tangled heap of bodies sliding down the hill with the toboggan on top of us.
Sometimes another kid would run along the footpath as we were rocketing down the hill. If he couldn't hear us screaming for him to get out of the way, or the front guy couldn't push him aside, he'd find himself launched into the air on a toboggan full of kids he'd never seen before and about to crash-land hard on the hill below.
After arguing over who's turn it was to pull the toboggan we'd start the long haul back up the slippery hill to the top. This usually resulted in the proverbial three steps forward, two steps back routine, or even three steps forward and twenty steps back if you happened to slip and fall on your face. Our legs would be burning by the time we made it back up and we'd all have to lie on the ground to recover before we could again plunge to the bottom.
After a couple of hours of this we'd decide to call it quits and head home for dinner. On the way the realization would sink in that we were soaked to the bone, frozen half to death, bruised, battered, and had extremely sore backsides. Now that's what I call an afternoon of winter fun.
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