Our morning was predictably spent at our local Wal-Mart stocking up on extra hats, scarves, coats and a good supply of rum. I wasn't allowed to buy a balaclava as Ciara suggested the combination of me wearing a balaclava and her Irish accent may alarm certain people.
We then headed out for the Olympic park so called because the Winter Olympics were held there in 1988, although it was so long ago everyone still seems to talk about it endlessly, I get the impression nothing much really happens in Calgary. First person to mention The World Cup and 1966 gets a sound beating.
Our plan was to ride the Olympic (Ahhh! even I'm doing it) toboggan track – '2000 metres of downhill, heart-pounding, nerve-shattering icy terror! – the advertising poster didn't say, but would have done if it had been a roller coaster ride, which is what it is right?
No actually, I can honestly say a toboggan ride is one of the scariest, most violent forms of 'entertainment' I have ever undertaken. We cracked a top speed of 133kmh which doesn't sound huge, but when you are sitting on what amounts to not much more than a tea tray holding just two thin bits of elastic whilst four G-forces hit you (ask a scientist what that means I just know it bloody hurts) it is.
I was expecting the toboggan to smoothly run down the ice, shit, I was wondering whether to take my camera and take a few snaps! The thing smashes into the sides, bashing your helmet covered head from side-to-side whilst taking off from the ice and landing bone-crunchingly hard further along the track before climbing five metres into one of the corners and then dropping back to earth. The driver had told us what to do if we turn over on the way down, bloody hell I wish I had listened.
The descent lasted just 59 seconds but I got out thinking that if it had lasted much longer I would have to have gone back to Wal-Mart for some more trousers.
We decided to spend the afternoon at a more leisurely pace which was handy as there is fuck all else to do in Calgary. We wandered around the town which is unremarkable other than the fact it has a cool space-station like system of walkways that are 15 metres above street level which I assume stops the civilian population freezing to death on their way to buying a bagel.
In the evening I found myself in a pub promising 'Live Premiership football' and settled down for the games. Imagine my shock and horror upon realising that I was 14 hours too late, English time is in front. My massive schoolboy error was only made better by watching the highlights of the laughingly monikered 'title contenders' Liverpool get spanked by Reading.
No comments:
Post a Comment