Newton's Three Laws of Motion: Crash Course

Book of the Week: Want To Play? by PJ Tracy

A little bit more of life lived this weekend: sledging, and in proper winter wonderland fantasy style to boot. I would almost go as far to say it was my perfect winter weekend: lots of together time, the great outdoors, perfect weather conditions, plenty of fun (and exercise, although you wouldn’t know it) and good food.

Woke at the ungodly hour (for a Saturday) of 7.30am and after a gruelling journey to Syed’s (two buses, as the car’s fuel injection system is still getting fixed) at 8am to pick up the sledge, we walked along the cycle path to the hill behind Queen Margaret Hospital. It was very cold and quiet, with just the odd dog-walker out on the morning pee run. Made for wonderful walking and was snowy all down the path, with a few flakes falling. A gorgeous wintry scene and beautiful study in perspective as well, with the bare trees lining both sides of the path.

Luckily for us, because it was relatively early, we had the hill all to ourselves. (Being a bit rusty at sledging, it was a good choice. At least we wouldn’t have to go far if we needed the A&E.) But man. Nothing really prepared us for what was essentially a 35° slope... with all of 30ft of flat at the bottom to stop in before you hit the hedges with their hard little twigs and branches like witches’ fingers waiting to poke your eyes out (and there was just as good a chance of you flying out into the main road heading up to the hospital). Gareth went first, after 1) tucking his socks in so his trouser legs wouldn’t turn into snow tunnels and 2) a few deep breaths and oh-oh-ohhhhhhh!-ing. He missed the gorse bushes in the middle by about 2ft.

My turn. I didn’t move for ages. Newton’s First Law of Motion. I simply sat there, sounding slightly manic as I continued to giggle hysterically / nervously. I looked down and thought... gee, this is a really slippery slope... and I’m on this slightly curved, polished bit of plastic... with no brakes or steering except my body weight. (Segue into Second Law of Motion here.) I felt a lot like I usually do about three seconds into a pant-wetting rollercoaster ride, you know, after you’re strapped in and the monster lurches into an upward climb and you know you’re getting closer and closer and closer to the drop... anyway, barring a couple of rather hard bumps on the way down (coccyx and arse still sore), I made it down in one piece. Missed the gorse bushes but nearly careered into the evil witch hedges at the bottom. And I didn’t even scream. Hyperventilated, yes, but no screams.

After about 10 or so runs, we got a bit tired of that particular slope (a hard climb up for less than 100m of down-time) so we caught the bus to Rex Park. It was much chillier in Dunfermline, for some reason, and I was very glad I had that last-minute footie reprieve. It was only about 10.30am but it would really have ruined my morning thinking of having to spend my afternoon on that cold wind tunnel of a terrace, especially when there was so much snow to be enjoyed (the odd few flakes signalled the start of more to come, which would only have made me doubly frustrated).

Rex Park was glorious. We got in through a hole midway along the fence (being too lazy to walk all the way down to the top/bottom) and, given that the park is full of gentle, rolling mounds, didn’t have to go far to find a slope. The curving paths running around the edge of the park made fantastic sledge runs – the gradients ensured you went at speed, but were not so steep that you had to double-check that you had already made out a will. Being paths, they were virtually bump-free so you went like the clappers, yet had sufficient challenging twists and turns. And they went on for absolute miles (well, more like 250m, but when you’re on a sledge, that’s what it feels like.)

And here we come to why this was the perfect winter weekend for me. We had the park and (the paths) all to ourselves. Almost on cue, when we started the first of our dozens of runs, it started to snow properly. Lightly at first, then more and more flakes came down. It got so heavy that, while coming down the 45° Prayer Hill (so called because apparently that’s the last thing you do before you go over the lip) we had the illusion of sledging into hyperspace à la the Millennium Falcon. There were plenty of whoaaaaas and ohcrapohcrapohcraps and tumbles and laughing.

We sledged for nearly two solid hours at Rex Park, and all the while the snow came down. It was just beautiful. My wintry outdoors dream come true. Unfortunately there are no photos – precisely because we knew exactly how things would pan out, we wisely left the camera at home, where it would remain in one piece. Otherwise there would certainly have been a snapshot or two of my very impressive Abominable Snowman impersonation, following a particularly spectacular crash into a snow bank at the bottom of Prayer Hill (Second Law of Motion in action). Perhaps it was just as well it was the only run where we didn’t try going doubles on the sledge (more Second Law of Motion, and no doubt the end result would have been particularly painful – Third Law of Motion).

We managed to finally tear ourselves away at lunchtime and headed to Khushi’s for a hot, delicious meal of fish curry (for me), chicken jalfrezi (for Gareth) and mushroom pilau, topped off with coconut cream smoothies (banana, almond and cinnamon for me, pineapple for Gareth). It was immensely satisfying, given that all we had had for breakfast was a sausage roll each. Unfortunately something must have disagreed with us because we spent the next hour or so in the toilet after we got home. But the afternoon wasn’t a complete loss as we spent it flumping on the sofa watching cheesy movies (Catwoman!!!) and reading (I finally finished The City of Dreaming Books, which was excellent – how can you not like a book that’s basically an adventure about books, reading and writing?)

On Sunday, I scored another first when I went into Edinburgh (to exchange my faulty Zamberlans): I noticed that the Water of Leith had frozen over – gulls were walking on the surface, and a yellow folding chair stuck out from the surface (it IS Leith after all). It didn’t register initially, and I thought it looked grimier and oilier than usual. It didn’t register initially, and I was very happy when it finally clicked that I was looking on a frozen river. What a difference 24 hours makes. By the time I got on the train home, the thaw had started and the snow was turning to slush. But the forecast is that this is just a respite, and that more wintry weather is on its way. I can only hope it snows, and heavily, here. There are lots more winter wonderland fantasy memories I want to build.

Factoids of the Week:
The cycle path mentioned above forms part of the North Sea Cycle Route, a 6000km-long route which goes through seven countries (UK, Belgium, the Netherlands, Germany, Denmark, Sweden, Norway). There’s an adventure for ya!

Apparently, this is the coldest winter in the UK since 1963. The coldest night of the winter was on January 7, with temperatures between -8 and 0°C in most parts of the country. The coldest place was Altnaharra, where it dropped to -22.3°C.