It was 4 blocks from my house to Rock Hill and we hustled along pulling our sleds behind us as it was already 4pm so we only had a couple of hours before the streetlights came on. All of us had better be home before those streetlights came on or there would be hell to pay from our parents and we knew it! 
Rock Hill is just like it sounds a hill with a bunch of big rocks, the top of the hill is the CNR (Canadian National Railroad) line and it slopes off steep and then levels out into a gully full of big boulders. Most of the rocks at rock hill are actually glacial erratics, big boulders about the size of a Volkswagen Bug that the glaciers dropped off in the last Ice Age, they make it a challenge and a thrill to go sledding at Rock Hill!
It really was the best sledding hill around except for the Three Sisters at the private golf course called the Hunt Club but you couldn't go there until later in the winter when all the grounds keepers were laid off or they would run you off for trespassing.
There's an old railroad overpass that goes over Warden Avenue, the other main street in our neighbourhood and that's where you start your sledding run, down past the wooden billboards you slide and then around a banked curve like a bobsled run and then come the boulders.
John, Dougy and me got into position at the top by the railroad tracks and counted down together from 3 - - - One - Two - Three! at which point we launched ourselves forward as fast as we could, jockeying for position with each other as we flew down the hill, the Race Was On! We blew between the big wooden posts holding up the billboards and lined up our approach for the banked turn, this was critical because if you did it right you would rocket ahead of the others but if you blew it you would shoot over the top of the bank and go down another steep bank into a bunch of small rocks about basketball size
. All three of us knew what the best line into the turn was and we all wanted to have it, so somebody had to go, somebody turned out to be John as Dougy and I squeezed him out of the approach and he hit the bank too sharp and went over the bank leaving only Dougy and I to finish the race which worked out to a draw at the big, pink boulder that marked the finish line. We Whooped and Hollered at the thrill of the first run of the season and then we started to argue about who had won the race, this went on for a bit until one of us stopped and said "Where's John?"
Jeepers! John had gone over the bank!
Dougy and I scrambled back up the hill to the banked turn just in time to see John haul himself out of the brambles and rocks at the bottom bank, he was a bit of a mess.
John had missed most of the rocks but had been mauled by the blackberry bushes that grow wild out of the rocks in the summertime, very tasty berries but very sharp thorns.
John's sled was okay which was the important thing and the scrapes and scratches weren't bleeding too bad but the jacket I'd lent him had a huge rip in one arm. I'd have to hide my spare jacket behind my bed for a while when I got home(at least until spring) so my Mom wouldn't notice or I'd be in deep trouble.
We helped John pull some of the worst thorns out of his hide and then we were back up the hill for another race. We all had the same wooden sleds with the wide runners so our equipment was equal, we were all about the same weight so also equal, so that left only skill and daring if you wanted to win. We raced for about an hour and Dougy and I were tied for first place with John a distant third so we decided to have a showdown, just me and Dougy. 
John did the countdown and waved his scarf like it was a starting flag and WE WERE OFF!! Keeping our heads low to minimize drag and pressing our bellies flat against the sled we rocketed down the hill. There was one big wooden post from the billboard that made things really interesting, you could take the low side which kept your speed up or you could take the high side which slowed you down initially but gave you more speed and a better angle coming into the banked curve but there was a rock you had to avoid on the high side as well so we usually took the low side. This race I really wanted to win so I took the high side which blocked Dougy who was thinking the same thing and forced him to take the low side, almost hitting the big, wooden billboard post. This should have meant I'd win easy but I clipped that big rock and it slowed me down so it was an even race again; into the banked curve we went. Dougy came in low and shot high while I came in high and shot low, it was somewhere in the middle that we collided - CRASH! The next thing I knew, Dougy and John were shaking me which really made my head hurt and I wasn't seeing very good out of one eye, that was probably because of all of the blood I thought to myself. "BLOOD!? WHO'S BLOOD!??" Well it was my blood of course! When Dougy and I tangled our sleds together we had piled up and Dougy had shot into the top of the bank and part way over it, I was heading downhill so I had slid along packed snow and smacked head first into one of the boulders that gives Rock Hill its' name.
Fortunately, the ugly grey hat that my Grandma had knit for me was extra thick and it had cushioned the blow but I still had a pretty big gash in my head, at least I figured it was big from all the pink snow lying around. I got my hat off and we found some clean snow to put on the cut which helped to stop the bleeding. Head wounds bleed something fierce and a little blood goes a long way on white snow.
I kept putting snow onto the gash until the bleeding was stopped and I couldn't feel the cut anymore because that whole part of my head was numb from the snow compress. Racing was over for the day but as kid's are Dougy and John got bored with watching me bleed so they had started to make a snow fort.
They rolled up a couple of good sizes balls of snow and started building a wall for a forts at the base of the railroad bridge. I was getting bored too so I put my hat back on and went to help out. We quickly realized that there wasn't going to be enough for two forts and it was starting to get late anyways so we were just about ready to abandon the idea and head home when Dougy got a bright idea. Now a bright idea from Dougy usually meant just one thing - TROUBLE!
Sometimes it was fun trouble and other times it was just bad trouble, the problem was that you never knew which one it was going to be until you were already so deep in trouble that it was too late.
"Let's take the biggest one and roll it up the hill, then we can dump it off the bridge onto the road!" said Dougy. Oddly enough, this sounded like a good idea at the time but it may have been my head injury affecting my judgement. So the three amigos, Dougy, John and Myself started to push the big snowball up the hill to top of the railroad bridge.
(to be continued)
Rock Hill is just like it sounds a hill with a bunch of big rocks, the top of the hill is the CNR (Canadian National Railroad) line and it slopes off steep and then levels out into a gully full of big boulders. Most of the rocks at rock hill are actually glacial erratics, big boulders about the size of a Volkswagen Bug that the glaciers dropped off in the last Ice Age, they make it a challenge and a thrill to go sledding at Rock Hill!
It really was the best sledding hill around except for the Three Sisters at the private golf course called the Hunt Club but you couldn't go there until later in the winter when all the grounds keepers were laid off or they would run you off for trespassing. There's an old railroad overpass that goes over Warden Avenue, the other main street in our neighbourhood and that's where you start your sledding run, down past the wooden billboards you slide and then around a banked curve like a bobsled run and then come the boulders. John, Dougy and me got into position at the top by the railroad tracks and counted down together from 3 - - - One - Two - Three! at which point we launched ourselves forward as fast as we could, jockeying for position with each other as we flew down the hill, the Race Was On! We blew between the big wooden posts holding up the billboards and lined up our approach for the banked turn, this was critical because if you did it right you would rocket ahead of the others but if you blew it you would shoot over the top of the bank and go down another steep bank into a bunch of small rocks about basketball size. All three of us knew what the best line into the turn was and we all wanted to have it, so somebody had to go, somebody turned out to be John as Dougy and I squeezed him out of the approach and he hit the bank too sharp and went over the bank leaving only Dougy and I to finish the race which worked out to a draw at the big, pink boulder that marked the finish line. We Whooped and Hollered at the thrill of the first run of the season and then we started to argue about who had won the race, this went on for a bit until one of us stopped and said "Where's John?" Jeepers! John had gone over the bank! Dougy and I scrambled back up the hill to the banked turn just in time to see John haul himself out of the brambles and rocks at the bottom bank, he was a bit of a mess. John had missed most of the rocks but had been mauled by the blackberry bushes that grow wild out of the rocks in the summertime, very tasty berries but very sharp thorns. John's sled was okay which was the important thing and the scrapes and scratches weren't bleeding too bad but the jacket I'd lent him had a huge rip in one arm. I'd have to hide my spare jacket behind my bed for a while when I got home(at least until spring) so my Mom wouldn't notice or I'd be in deep trouble. We helped John pull some of the worst thorns out of his hide and then we were back up the hill for another race. We all had the same wooden sleds with the wide runners so our equipment was equal, we were all about the same weight so also equal, so that left only skill and daring if you wanted to win. We raced for about an hour and Dougy and I were tied for first place with John a distant third so we decided to have a showdown, just me and Dougy. John did the countdown and waved his scarf like it was a starting flag and WE WERE OFF!! Keeping our heads low to minimize drag and pressing our bellies flat against the sled we rocketed down the hill. There was one big wooden post from the billboard that made things really interesting, you could take the low side which kept your speed up or you could take the high side which slowed you down initially but gave you more speed and a better angle coming into the banked curve but there was a rock you had to avoid on the high side as well so we usually took the low side. This race I really wanted to win so I took the high side which blocked Dougy who was thinking the same thing and forced him to take the low side, almost hitting the big, wooden billboard post. This should have meant I'd win easy but I clipped that big rock and it slowed me down so it was an even race again; into the banked curve we went. Dougy came in low and shot high while I came in high and shot low, it was somewhere in the middle that we collided - CRASH! The next thing I knew, Dougy and John were shaking me which really made my head hurt and I wasn't seeing very good out of one eye, that was probably because of all of the blood I thought to myself. "BLOOD!? WHO'S BLOOD!??" Well it was my blood of course! When Dougy and I tangled our sleds together we had piled up and Dougy had shot into the top of the bank and part way over it, I was heading downhill so I had slid along packed snow and smacked head first into one of the boulders that gives Rock Hill its' name. Fortunately, the ugly grey hat that my Grandma had knit for me was extra thick and it had cushioned the blow but I still had a pretty big gash in my head, at least I figured it was big from all the pink snow lying around. I got my hat off and we found some clean snow to put on the cut which helped to stop the bleeding. Head wounds bleed something fierce and a little blood goes a long way on white snow. I kept putting snow onto the gash until the bleeding was stopped and I couldn't feel the cut anymore because that whole part of my head was numb from the snow compress. Racing was over for the day but as kid's are Dougy and John got bored with watching me bleed so they had started to make a snow fort.They rolled up a couple of good sizes balls of snow and started building a wall for a forts at the base of the railroad bridge. I was getting bored too so I put my hat back on and went to help out. We quickly realized that there wasn't going to be enough for two forts and it was starting to get late anyways so we were just about ready to abandon the idea and head home when Dougy got a bright idea. Now a bright idea from Dougy usually meant just one thing - TROUBLE!
Sometimes it was fun trouble and other times it was just bad trouble, the problem was that you never knew which one it was going to be until you were already so deep in trouble that it was too late."Let's take the biggest one and roll it up the hill, then we can dump it off the bridge onto the road!" said Dougy. Oddly enough, this sounded like a good idea at the time but it may have been my head injury affecting my judgement. So the three amigos, Dougy, John and Myself started to push the big snowball up the hill to top of the railroad bridge.
(to be continued)
