Alpine Penguin Sliding: Good times in the Alps

A blog post by Greg Sisco, Spring 2011

As we raced down the mountain head-first at a speed never reached by man before in this particular way, I began to reflect on my life. I had indeed lived a very blessed life full of laughter, family, and friends. I had come to a very stable point in my relationship with Christ, and yet I felt like there was so much more to come. In short: I was not ready to die. Not here. Not now. Not like this.

Perhaps I should clarify what exactly my friend Dan McNally and I were doing and what exactly led to this particular stunt. After a day of snowboarding in the Alps, we had conquered every single run presented to us with ease; with the exception of the run they call “Number Eight”. Not only was it the steepest run, but the iciest as well. For all those familiar with snow related sports, this is a deadly combination for those without Winter Olympic quality talent. Every single time we had gone down this run, we had been knocked off balance and sent flying down the mountain on our backs. Our friends on skis had repeatedly achieved numerous “yard sales” – a term given to a skier who loses his poles, skis, helmet, gloves, etc. in the event of a massive wipeout.

Dan and I decided that we would not be thrown off balance against our will any longer. We would instead control our own destiny and “Penguin Slide” number eight – a term used by snowboarders who launch themselves face first, on their stomachs, with their boards up in the air, down the mountain. I went first, followed immediately by Dan. Dan picked up much more speed than I did and ran into me. Dan grabbed my legs and in effect created a two man penguin slide. The combined force of the two of us greatly increased our acceleration and soon we were going at a pace much faster than we had anticipated. As we made our way down number 8 at a speed probably around 30-35 mph, I stuck my arms out in front of me to slow us down, yet all this did was knock a bunch of snow into my face. About halfway down the mountain, Dan began to recite the few parts of the Hail Mary in German that he knew; after all it was the feast of Our Lady of Lourdes that day.

We eventually came to a stop and began to laugh uncontrollably, and praised the Lord for sparing our lives despite our intentional endangering of them. I checked to make sure that all of my body parts were still intact. The Austrian skiers around us all laughed at our American foolishness, yet I like to think they were secretly admiring our bravery and accomplishment of conquering the mountain. A priest back on main campus once said to me, “You know Greg, one day you are going to regret the things you do.” I’m beginning to see his point, however this was a matter of dignity, a matter of showing this mountain who was boss. We risked it all to conquer this Alpine slope, and came away with sweet victory. Yet we have more than just victory, we have a memory of the good times we spent defying human logic in the Alps together.