Several years ago, we experienced our first white Christmas with our daughter. She was a toddler – a near perfect cherubic age – and we were staying in my husband’s hometown. As the flakes began to fall and softly cover and quiet the landscape, we felt the wonder of this perfect moment. Transfixed, we made our way outdoors with an ancient wood sleigh from my father-in-law’s childhood and pulled her down the street in a scene right out of a fairy tale. Back inside and insulated from the cold, we were breathless and happy and filled with Gemütlichkeit.
Years later I still feel such happiness thinking about that moment. That old sled, our family, and the magic of Christmas had us talking about buying a wooden sleigh for several winters in a row. However, there was a problem.
I think the last proper snow was in 2016 when Chloe wrote about “5 points of etiquette for sledging in Berlin“. Since then there has been a drought of proper winter or any hint of decent snow. We had practically given up hope and all talk of sleds had faded into the realm of the half-forgotten. But then the impossible happened. At first, a deluge of wet snow that had you instantly soaked. It quickly dissipated. Reports of below freezing temperatures for at least a week seemed promising. We waited with bated breath over the weekend as snow fell, then melted away. And then, SNOW! Glorious snow. Just a few centimeters deep, but enough to play in and it was going to stay around because of the frigid temps. This was sledding weather.
Sledding in Berlin Photo: Erin Porter
On our best sledding day, we gleefully left the house bundled up tight. It really was painfully cold, two scarf weather. We left the house in the morning on a weekday, determined to beat the crowds who also whooped it up on the nearby sledding hill earlier in the week. Practically no one was there, just a couple joggers and dog walkers. We let out screams of joy as our new wood sleigh sleekly soared down the icy slopes. For a while, we we were all kids again, as happy as we were that Christmas morning.
German Sleds
Before we got to this ideal moment in the snow, we had to wait for our perfect sled. As Chloe noted,
Here, it is all about as wooden and old-fashioned-looking as possible, with metal runners and ideally handed down through generations of sledging Germans.
Holzschlitten (wood sleds) in Germany are charmingly antiquated. Made of wood and perched on sleek runners, they often have a rope pull, comfortable back to lean upon, and sometimes even pillows firmly strapped down for seats. They can appear so delicate as to look like a terrible idea to put a child on and push off a ledge. Looks can be deceiving. Flying down a hill, hitting bumps with the wind blasting past what is left uncovered on your face, your sled is your steed – sturdy and true. The sleds run so cleanly they also replace any wheeled vehicle on the sidewalk in the snow. Babies are strapped in sleighs rather than strollers and old ladies tote their groceries on small sleds. Covered in white, Berlin looks more old timey than usual.
When I went sledding as a kid back in Washington State in the USA, we usually went inter-tubing. I loved it, but oh my it was dangerous! Giant inflatable tires were often so large you slipped right through the center and bounced off when they hit the slightest bu,p. There were also plastic racers with hand brakes that gave you the idea of control, but not the actuality. Or simple colorful saucers that you held on to for dear life. All of them would eventually go flying through the air, dramatically dumping riders on the hard packed snow before landing on the head. What a thrill!
Clearly, the wood sleds have an advantage. However, after exulting on the charms of these old wooden sleighs, I have to admit a major flaw. We finally ordered our wood sleigh online (most shops that carry sleds are closed because of quarantine measures) a week before the expected cold snap. It was scheduled to arrive by that Saturday. On Friday we got a notice it was out for delivery. Breathlessly, we hung around the house waiting for that delivery all weekend. Monday, it still hadn’t arrived and we weren’t surprised, but irritated.
I guess you could count us as lucky as hordes of other would-be sled-buyers were moaning on social media that all sites with sleds were listing them as Ausverkauf (sold out). As is typical for German shopping, there is always a shortage of things when you actually want them. Want winter boots when the cold hits? Too bad. Those all sold out in the fall. Germans plan in advance.
Our new sled Photo: Erin Porter
On Thursday (!) our sled finally arrived. It had been delayed due to weather. Hilarious. Whatever – it was here! We immediately packed on the winter gear and made our way out to the (now filthy, 5-day-old) snow. The sled easily pulled through rocky mounds of snow and sleet and the kids smiled in delight. In a fit of insanity, I pulled them at a near run in full snow gear all the way to the closest hill. After a moment of hesitation looking down the steep slope, we took a breath and pushed ourselves over the edge.
What kind of sled do you prefer? Have you even ridden on this type of wooden sled?
Porter in the snow Photo: Erin Porter
We did lots of sledding in our neighborhood. We had as small hill nearby that was separated from the street by a thin row of bushes that we’d try to jump over to land in the street. How we weren’t killed is a miracle. In the wood nearby was a steep hill with a series of steep undulations. As you gained speed you’d fly higher and higher off the burms until at some point you’d lose control and crash in a heap. We called it Suicide Hill because I don’t think anyone ever made it to the bottom without crashing. In the summer we’d do the same with our bicycles. I recently visited the old neighborhood and even forty years later these two hills are there exactly as I remember them.