It’s All Downhill For Kids, Sleds

Blurs of color sliced down the white slope, shrill screams trailing after.

The screams weren’t of the terror-filled variety. The din was the giggly screams of kids on sleds.

Bathtub-like plastic jobs, aluminum saucers rippled with dents, plain-Jane inner tubes. Valley Mission Park, its concave grass bowl the perfect track, was full of them Saturday.

Youngsters had toughed out a long wait. Christmas brought with it new sleds, but until last weekend, there had not been much snow. By Monday, rain had washed away most of the white stuff.

Valley folks used it while they could. The Howells, 8-year-old Shiri and 4-year-old Chris, unwrapped matching purple sleds that holiday morning. They couldn’t wait to try them. Their dad, Matt, took them to Mount Spokane last week for a maiden voyage.

A snow-covered Valley Mission Park was much handier, though. Just a short walk from home.

Both kids climbed aboard. Dad placed one hand on the back of each sled.

“Ready?” He pulled back, then heaved forward a big shove.

“WHEEEeeeeee…!”

Matt stood up, dusting the snow from his gloves. He was obviously a fun-loving dad. His purple coat, with a big “Taz” cartoon character on the back, was the same color as the sleds.

He watched as momentum ran dry and both little ones slowed to a stop. They climbed back up the hill doing that penguin-like, bundled-up little kid walk.

“I wish I had as much energy as them,” Matt said.

Little Chris wore a red apple of a face underneath his tree-green cap. It was cold out, freezing. He didn’t care. It seemed that no one did.

Nearby, a bigger kid - not a Howell - had an identical purple sled. He rode it standing instead of sitting down. Each time he started, he fell off the sled. They don’t make the best boogie boards.

Even when operated as per instructions, the things didn’t always cooperate. Especially the saucers. Their riders spun at about 1,000 rpms on each descent, trees and people in a blur. Still, 10-year-old Scotty McFarland claimed he could steer his pink disc. Well, sometimes.

Scotty wore a court-jester’s hat, with four or so black and purple tassels flying from it, a bell at the end of each. It made him easy to spot.

And it was a good thing, too. The hill was besieged with sledders zipping down and climbers coming back up. Adding to the crash potential were the trees, each of which had a county-installed hay bale at its base.

It took a pretty good Flexible Flyer pilot to dodge ‘em all, or just patience to wait until the runway was clear.

“This is not bowling for people,” Dave Underwood reminded some neighbors as he waited before shoving them down the slope. The three were plugged into the donut hole of a semi-truck inner tube.

Away they went. Underwood’s own 4-year-old daughter, Ashley, watched. He loved to show her off.

“How old are you, Ash?” dad asked. She held up one pink mitten, fingers inside presumably showing how many years.

“She’s four,” Underwood said with a laugh.

Other proud parents brought cameras or video recorders. Kids posed before their run.

Other dads, like Robert Malone, got into the action themselves. The bearded man with shoulder-length hair looked pretty funny hunched over the wheel of a sit-down runner sled. It was no Harley, but hey.

And while some previously had to go to Mount Spokane to sled, at least one guy came to the park to snowboard. Kyle Dietterle, 12, had a sharp Burton (paid for with “my own money,” thank you). Carrying it, he looked like a pro.

Truth is, though, he had only used it three times before. He hopped on, slid a few feet, then toppled like a felled oak. He did that two more times before reaching the bottom.

“It’s fast enough for me,” he decided.

, DataTimes MEMO: Valley Snapshots is a regular Valley Voice feature that visits gatherings in the Valley. If you know of a good subject for this column, please call reporter Ward Sanderson at 927-2154.