The Infamous Alumi-bob

They called it the infamous Alumi-bob. It was an aluminum, steerable, seven-foot-long bobsled. It once slid the roads around Anacortes, Washington. Now it is hidden deep in the woods, laying low, far from passing eyes in the local patrol cars.

The Alumi-bob was built by Kenny Howard, who by the looks of it, had access to a shop and a TIG or MIG welder. Though not having the beauty of an Olympic bobsled, it was built to hold four boys and to take a beating.

Now, why was the Alumi-bob built? To answer to this, we must go back in time to a house on the Sharpe Road which overlooked the Erie Store and stared into the face of Mt. Erie. It was the home of my cousins, the Duntons. Besides mom and dad, the family had six girls and two boys.

Because of the intolerable girliness of the home, the men were forced to find adventure and solitude outside, only coming inside for meals.

The oldest son Greg, who helped create the Alumi-bob with Kenny, is at least five years older than me. The youngest son, Jason, must be ten years younger than me. So, with that large span of years, Greg had a lot of sage advice he had to pass on to his younger brother.

Living all their lives overlooking a lake and a mountain, the question became: How can we use these to our advantage? Now, I remember when Greg was in high school, he was a member of the Hydroplane Club. The boys would build balsa wood hydros which were about 18 to 24″ long. They would mount a Cox engine on the back and take them to Lake Erie. Two of them would then row a boat out to a post hammered into the lake bottom, attach their hydroplanes to tethers, start the Cox engines, set the boats side by side and let them go. The hydros would then speed in large circles around the post, held in place only by the tethers, until one ran out of fuel before the other or, one boat sufficiently out lapped the other. Sometimes a tether would snap, and the high revving little boat would either crash into the cattails or zoom to the far end of the lake. Although it was a school club, it rarely attracted as many spectators as the football team.

There was always fishing on the lake in the summer and ice-skating in the winter, so it was considered year-round entertainment. But what to do with the mountain?

Mt. Erie is a fair-weather mountain.  If you have not experienced the 167-million-year-old diorite, hard igneous rock, it is massive, beautiful, and covered almost daily with rock climbers. It is though, almost useless when it snows. Though there is a road to the top, it is so steep in places and has such tight curves, it is impossible for a regular vehicle to attempt the climb to the top because of the snow and ice, and the fact that the city of Anacortes closes it down.

But for the boys of Erie Valley, the question was: Why waste a perfectly good snowy mountain? Thus, the Alumi-bob was created.

The Alumi-bob has a handlebar in the front which steers the front runners. The driver straddles the steering post and holds himself in place by digging his heels into the front of the frame. Two more boys can sit behind him, and a fourth boy operates the drag brakes at the rear. The brakes operate independently and when used correctly, when the driver steers to the left, the brakeman also digs in the left brake. The brakeman can also initiate a panic stop by using both brakes at the same time. Other than bailing off the bobsled, the brakeman is the last chance to save the rider’s lives.

It must be noted here that on many of the outside turns on the road up Mt. Erie there are drop offs, many of which are 50 or more feet. Anyone missing a curve and leaving the road may have a fatal drop to the bottom.

This was tested by Greg who attempted to ride down the Mt. Erie road on a stand-up Schwinn scooter. Although the scooter had a back wheel brake, the steepness of the road quickly caused it to fail and he found himself sailing down the switchback turns like the Marvel character, The Blur. And it happened, he missed a curve, drove off the road and out into the ravine . . . and he landed in a tree. Besides losing his glasses, and the scooter, and having to figure out how to get out of the tree, he lived to see another day.

The Maiden Voyage of the Alumi-bob

It was a cold northeastern day. The mountain was covered with snow and ice. Greg and Kenny had pulled the Alumi-bob the 1.6 miles to the summit of Mt. Erie.

(I want to add here that Greg also bought a hang glider which he used to sail off the top of the mountain. Like Orville and Wilbur Wright, he has the adventurer’s attitude of, “Well let’s see if this is going to work.”)

Greg sat in the front holding onto the steering bar. Kenny began pushing the Alumi-bob down the steep icy road. After it picked up sufficient speed, he jumped on the back and grabbed the two brake levers. All went as planned into the first sweeping turn. Picking up speed now, they came into a hairpin to the left.

“Brake left!” Greg yelled. His steering runners were skidding and losing control.

“Brake left harder! Harder!”

“I’m pulling as hard as I can,” Kenny yelled, and then pop. Kenny stared in horror at the brake lever which had broken off and he was holding in his hand.

Greg’s mom said that over the sound of the northeastern wind through Erie Valley on that icy day, she could still hear from a mile away the faint, “Yeeeeow!”

The sled eventually hit a rock and tore off one of the runners. The two wide-eyed, white-haired boys pulled it back to Kenny’s shop.

The excitement of the Alumi-bob wore off for Greg and the sled sat on blocks behind the shop for many years until Jason became old enough and his high school friends wanted to give the Alumi-bob a chance at new life.

One of the first things that they decided was that pulling the sled up 1.6 miles of road to the top of Mt. Erie had to change. They had a Subaru, a snow car.

The first thing that they did was to remove the tires from the car. They let the air out of the tires, then wrapped them with old truck tire chains which they welded tight together. After refilling the tires with air and reattaching the wheels to the car, the car was now a snow monster. It was capable of climbing trees.

Jason and four of his buddies took the sled to the base of the mountain.  They tied the tow rope to the rear bumper of the car and all five rode leisurely to the top towing the bobsled.

“It is too bad that more people don’t have snow cars like this,” Jason said. “There’s nobody up here but us.”

Jason’s instructions were simple. Since it was from his house, he would drive. They would take two trips down so everyone had a chance to ride. The fifth boy in the car would tow the sled down the hill until it reached a speed where the sled driver would let go of the rope and would slide without help. The car driver would then high tail it to the bottom and wait for the sled.

The four boys put the bobsled 20 feet behind the car. Jason instructed the boy at the rear how to use the brakes and they all sat in place, Jason holding the tow rope.

“Okay, let her rip!” he yelled to the driver and the car took off down the hill.

The first curve was fine. The car was going 15 mph and still saying ahead of the sled. It was the first steep hairpin turn to the left that the centrifugal force of being pulled through the outside of the curve, suddenly made the sled much faster than the Subaru. Jason dropped the rope and the sled shot around and was now out in front of the car, heading down the road.

The brakeman, who had never braked before, couldn’t brake because both hands were over his eyes. At 25 mph, the sledders looked like the three monkeys, SEE NO EVIL, HEAR NO EVIL and DO NO EVIL riding behind Frosty the Snowman in a rooster tail of snow.

Eventually, Jason plowed into a thicket of brush and made a sudden stop on a stump. The brakeman slid into the third man. who slid into the second man, who all slid into Jason, who had his legs on either side of the steering column.

Jason’s mother said that over the sound of the northeastern wind through Erie Valley on that icy day, she could still hear from a mile away the faint, “Yeeeeow!”

That was the moment Jason decided he would use his football cup while driving the Alumi-bob.

But why stay at the mountain with a perfectly good sled, five guys, the Subaru-Snow Monster, and no cars on the road. It was decided they should head to town. So, the Subaru pulled the four boys the 5.3 miles down the Heart Lake Road into Anacortes and they toured the streets of town. That is until they heard the “whoop, whoop” and saw the flashing lights from a patrol car coming out of an alley.

Again, the Snow-Monster proved its worth. The four wheels churning snow headed back out of town, leaving the two-wheel drive patrol car struggling. The Subaru shot a rooster tail of snow the six miles back to the house above Erie Valley. When they came to a stop behind the house it was said that what was seen were four snowmen sitting on a sled.

So now, many, many, years later, the Alumi-bob sits on blocks, hidden in the woods waiting for the statute of limitations to run out so the cops quit looking for the infamous sled that terrorized the streets of Anacortes.

And when it does, there are many of Jason and Greg’s nephews, sons and grandsons who will bring the Alumi-bob back to life again.

** This story is loosely based on the stories I have heard from the Dunton boys. It is partially fabricated and embellished.

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