Throughout the boreal forest, stretching
across the northern regions of North America, toboggans developed by the Indians for
winter travel through deep powder snow, became a means of entertainment in therse northern communities during long winter months. Every community had a small hill
where you’d find young and old alike enjoyed sliding on their toboggans.
Amesdale’s was at the school, on the hill that rose behind and to the left as viewed from that road to Richan.
Presumably, the Amesdale School Toboggan Hill
was inaugurated in 1930 when the school first opened, and the Ames, Radford,
Thompson, Nelson, and Stouffer kids clamored up its snowy slopes at recesses
and lunch hours for the thrill of a toboggan ride down its slick runs. As they became more adventuresome, with fear
and trepidation they became amateur skiers who swooshed down the hills on skies
as rudimentary as barrel staves lashed to the skier’s feet.
Later, Swedes established themselves on homesteaders
in the area, bringing with them their own professionally constructed skis, and with the introduction of greater expertise to the community, the hill behind the
school was relegated to bunny hill status.
On the slopes of a big hill belonging to Ed Breau’s homestead the “skiing
club” was established just east and north of Twenty Mile Creek. Here, the young people built a run with a big
skin jump, and a spectacular toboggan run beside it where the young, and the
young at heart congregated for ski tournaments. The Scandinavians like the Rudds, who lived
in that neck of the woods always did well at these events. Win or lose, participants and
spectators alike enjoyed the fun of the day, complimented with big pots of moose stew
during the competitions. There was certainly no better way to spend a winter's day than
tobogganing with family and friends on one of these great tobogganing hills.
When the school reopened after the war, a second
generation of students enjoyed adventures on that hill behind the school – including
a bit of mischief unrelated to tobogganing.
Terry Houston recalls that “on that bit of a hill behind the school, there was a
pretty big rock or so it seemed at the time. Any way some of us
boys got to working on that rock and finally dislodged it where upon it went
rolling down the hill, just missing the girls outhouse before coming to rest in
the playing field."
Once the snow flew however, tobogganing
remained the perennial favourite at recess and lunch. Pam Manning, who attended grade 5 during the
1952-3 school year, remembers the fine tobogganing sliding hill just behind the
school, where in the early winter the boys would make it an excellent slide by
pouring water on the slopes every few days, until it was almost too slippery to
walk up. As the complexity of the course
increased, something best described as a two-tier jump was introduced, and it was
deemed far too dangerous for younger kids to slide down, from the very top.
Nevertheless, Pam with young Louise
Thompson who was only in grade one in toe, ascended the slope to the very top and defied the
restrictions. “What a ride” she now
says, “we sailed down the first part then at the jump, became airborne and didn't
land until we were at the bottom of the hill. We had the wind knocked right out
of us, and a sore backside that wasn't so nice, but it was sure fun. Jean Thompson, Louise’s mother wasn't happy
with me at all.”
It was all good fun, and besides sore
bottoms and an occasional bit tongue few injuries were reported, except of
course for the teacher. Somehow, Mrs.
Lynch who reopened the school in 1946 ended up pulling all the ligaments in her
leg one Saturday evening on that hill.
Nevertheless, undaunted and wearing a cast, she still made it to school
on Monday morning for class, with all the big boys from the community pulling
her to school on a sled!
