“We’re out of the lightweight toboggans at the moment,” a woman behind the counter told me. “You can wait and see if someone returns one later or you can grab one of the heavier ones now.”
I’d already waited long enough – over 30 years to be exact – and I wasn’t about to leave Pokagon State Park without a run down the famous and historic toboggan slide.
“How much do the heavy toboggans weigh?” I asked, trying to decide if I could haul the sled back up the hill and the steps of the 30-ft. tower all by myself.
“65 pounds,” she said.
“Yikes,” I replied, wincing at the thought of it. But still, I was determined. “Okay, I’ll take it…”
My mom joined me on my pilgrimage by car to the northeastern corner of Indiana just miles from the Michigan line. She was just as curious to see the Pokagon toboggan run as I was; after all, since I was just a grade school kid, I’ve longed to experience the one true and original winter activity Indiana has to offer. But I knew when it came to a trip down the sledding chute, I was flying solo. My mom planned to spend her time in the warming hut drinking hot cocoa.
The word “toboggan” comes from a North American Algonquian term “odabaggan” which means sled. The wooden sleds with a curled front end were first used for hauling supplies and game. The toboggan was also used for winter fun as early as the 16th century. Three sports - skeleton, luge, and bobsledding - evolved from tobogganing.
Four people are allowed to ride on one wooden toboggan at a time; this means that usually four bodies share the 65-lb. load carrying it back up the steep, quarter mile-long climb through a dense hardwood forest.
I was the only lone sledder in the crowd. Amish women and children made up the majority of the thrill-seeking speed freaks, and their large families allowed them to have at least 2 trips down the run for my every one.
The toboggan slide has been around for awhile; my dad went on it when he was a boy. In 1935, the young workers in the Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC) put in the first run just for their own amusement during their hours off work.
Originally, freezing temperatures were needed to maintain the two tracks. The CCC boys hauled ice up from Lake James and a machine would shave and chop the ice to make the run smooth for sledding. In 1971, the tracks were updated to artificial refrigeration. No matter the snow conditions or the temperatures, the sledding is always good at Pokagon.
As I wrestled my 65-lb. toboggan up the steps of the 30-ft. tower, I watched the state park employees situate the sledders in their toboggans, telling every rider to “criss-cross applesauce” their legs around the waist of the person in front of them and grab the side straps.
“If you lose a hat, we’ll get it,” they said. “Just don’t lean back and don’t let go…”
And then the workers shoved the two toboggans situated on side-by-side tracks off the platform of rollers, sending the special sleds flying down onto the chutes of glistening ice. The riders shrieked like they were on a roller-coaster ride.
Toboggans and riders go over 40 mph down the quarter-mile run.
Even though I was 30-some years late taking my first toboggan ride, I wasn’t disappointed. The rush of tipping over the edge of the tower onto the ice, the total 90-foot drop, the high speeds, and the bitter cold wind stinging my face were exhilarating.
Toboggan runs can be found across the country from Ashland, NE to Lake Placid, NY to Camden, ME. In recent years, many historic runs (all Cook County slides in Chicago) have faced controversial closings because of the need for costly upkeep and the mild winters which make non-refrigerated tracks useless.
For many, toboggan runs are a nostalgic reminder of simpler days when kids preferred the rush of a real outdoor sport over the artificial experiences of computer games and television.
Toboggan enthusiasts have to work hard for the 20-30 second rides, but I never heard any complaints – just laughter.
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