Casually just bobsledding in Austria

Bobsledding, mon.

Bobsledding.

The idea of being able to go for a ride down an Olympic bobsled track was almost what had sold me on the entire European Contiki tour. I think there must be something seriously wrong with my survival instinct, since planes landing in turbulent sandstorms and throwing myself down a steep curving track in a bobsled at high speed don’t scare me, but things like crowded parties or hospitals send me into panic mode. Anyway, today was bobsled day, and I was quite excited.

The coach arrived at the official Olympic bobsled track in the Tyrol region of Austria around mid-morning. We were greeted by a pre-recorded "Achtung!" which played over a loudspeaker several seconds before a bright red object clattered and clanked into view along the track in front of us. Five people were inside, and it gently rolled to a stop before they clambered out, waving their arms around and exclaiming loudly about the ride.

"My brain is scrambled eggs now," one guy proclaimed earnestly.

The rickety metal contraption was the "bobsled". It looked nothing like the sleek and much larger bobsled I saw in Cool Runnings, even after accounting for the fact that this one had wheels, not blades. I started to get a little concerned. Had I really just signed a poorly translated waiver that said I agreed to jump inside this tiny metal thing on wheels and go careening down a track at speeds of up to 100km/h?

A truck took us nervous souls up to the top of the hill and the start of the track. I waited around with my fellow team mates and watched another team go barreling away down the slope. We donned balaclavas and sturdy helmets, posed for a few photos, then awkwardly folded ourselves into the bright red bobsled, with almost nothing to hold onto or brace ourselves against.

Suddenly, someone gave our bobsled a hefty shove, and we started rolling down the track.

At first, of course, it was nothing. We hadn’t yet picked up a lot of speed, and the sled gently rolled through the first corner. But then the sled accelerated…and kept accelerating…and accelerating.

It was incredibly fast – and very, very rough. Despite my best efforts to brace myself and remain sitting upright in the sled, my head was bounced sharply from side to side against the sled’s railings at every single corner. If it weren’t for that wonderfully sturdy helmet, I would most likely be dead by now, it was that rough. In fact, it was almost all I could focus on: the fact that my poor head was receiving a battering the likes of which I’d never experienced before in my life.

After what felt like mere seconds (it takes one minute to get down the track), our sled rolled to a stop, and we were freed from our bobsled and our helmets. Of course I had an absolutely cracking headache from the pounding I’d received, and a fresh bruise on my arm was my souvenir from Austria. I’m glad I went on the bobsled run, but once is more than enough. I’ll stick to rollercoasters and toboggan runs from now on.

Our next stop was Innsbruck, a very pretty Austrian town with cute buildings nestled against a backdrop of snow-capped mountains. How was it possible to be seeing snow and feeling the bite of the hot sun at the same time? We visited the official Swarovski crystal shop, where all the jewellery and other objects were highly expensive, and ate apple strudel and the best iced coffee (eiscafe) of my life in a nearby café.

Later in the afternoon, our coach crossed the border into northern Italy, and drove past the imposing Dolomite (spelling?) mountain ranges to a humid and sweaty service stop. After that, it was another two-hour journey to our hotel, where we would be staying for two nights, rather than just one.

I was alarmed at my room. Everything was wrong. The toilet was in the shower, there was a bidet which I knew I wouldn’t be using, and most annoyingly of all, the power outlets were wrong. They were different to other European outlets, requiring a different conversion plug, and which also meant I was unable to plug in any electronic devices with a three-pronged plug, such as the power cord for my laptop. Wifi was not free and could only be purchased for ¬ 8.00, so I decided not to bother. Finally, the only power outlet in the room (besides the one in the bathroom) was high on the wall in the corner behind the TV.

Our promised Italian dinner consisted of amazing pasta, followed by a less amazing chicken and potato" dish, which was basically chicken and chips, and tasted almost identical to what we can pick up at the local charcoal chicken shop in good old Panania. While others went out to venture into town (which wasn’t Venice, by the way. Our hotel was positioned away from the actual city), I decided to get an early night. Bobsledding and near-concussion, combined with surprisingly humid summer heat, can really take it out of you.