Cold fear
For three quarters of a mile, at speeds of up to 80mph, their faces inches from the ice, a group of thrill-seekers takes on the world’s toughest winter adrenaline rush: the Cresta Run
Breakneck speed: what an evocative way of saying ‘dangerously fast’. Yet, like so many commonplace expressions in habitual use, we become numb to their literal meaning. In this case, it’s travelling at sufficient velocity to rupture the all-important part of one’s body that attaches the head to the rest. Snap. That’s a pretty powerful image to evoke, when you think about it – which I must confess was something I’d never done before in my life. Right now, though, it’s the only thing I can think about because I may all too soon discover it’s not simply a nifty turn of phrase but actually a very real, life-ending injury.
I’m lying on my front, perched on a narrow metal toboggan, staring down the steep side of a Swiss mountain. Ahead lies the Cresta: the infamously treacherous ice-walled run that twists wickedly away into oblivion. My body is in a stance referred to by experts as ‘the kamikaze’, which means I’m pointing headfirst, my arms stretched back along my sides and my legs out flat behind me. My chin is barely more than a few centimetres from the ice and, though I’m wearing a crash helmet, at this very moment, my head feels as protected as an egg in a shell. Blind panic has taken control of me and my body is frozen with fear. My fate is unavoidable, so I silently begin saying my goodbyes to the world.
‘Good luck, Silcox,’ cuts in the clipped voice of my guru Nigel Broadhead, who is standing over me. He pats my shoulder in a reassuring manner. ‘Try to make it down in one piece,’ he adds, before starting the countdown to my terrifying departure. ‘Five, four, three, two, one.’
“Try to make it down in one piece”
Guru is rather a funny label to give someone, but at the Cresta Run, it’s shorthand for teacher. I’d been introduced to Nigel a few hours earlier in rather foreboding circumstances in the clubhouse of the St Moritz Tobogganing Club (SMTC). At the time, he was standing next to the backlit composite of a human skeleton made up of X-rays of injuries sustained by illustrious riders while descending the run. They range from Lord Bledisloe’s badly broken foot, the smashed hips of Messrs von Bohlen and Mr Halbach, Major Kelly’s shattered pelvis, various broken fingers and ribs, and the four bolts required to fix former SMTC secretary Lieutenent-Colonel Willoughby’s neck after a particularly nasty fall. Some riders were even more unfortunate – in its 133-year history, the run has claimed five lives.
It seems ludicrous that anyone should put themselves through such an ordeal in the pursuit of fun, but the Cresta is nevertheless a mecca for enthusiasts. The SMTC has 1500 active members and was the birthplace of skeleton tobogganing. Today, it continues to attract thrill-seekers and speed freaks from across the globe and boasts the reputation of being the most exclusive extreme-sports club in the world.
With Nigel, I’m apparently in the safest pair of hands, because he’s what they call a colours rider, meaning he’s previously been one of the fastest riders at the club and finished in the top eight ranking of the four main races. At the age of 74, he’s still taking his life in his hands every season and has made more than 1000 rides from the top, as well as accompanying more than 2000 beginners making their first rides down the slope.
‘The Cresta is an ice run that’s three quarters of a mile long and has seven bends and three corners,’ says Nigel, summarising the challenge ahead. ‘The difference between a bend and a corner is you can fall out of a corner when approached incorrectly. Shuttlecock is the most dangerous one and you should beware of it – it regularly ejects riders [just check YouTube to witness these vicious falls]. Speed is the main factor to take into account. A typical rider will reach speeds of roughly 60mph, but an experienced rider will exit the course at more than 80mph. In the UK, that would earn you a few points on your driving licence.’
Once on the run, riders have no chance of stopping until they reach the end or crash out. The only way they can navigate is by shifting their body weight and using their feet to rake, or brake. To do so, they wear large-spiked metal-toecapped shoes that enable them to dig into the ice. And this is the big difference between the Cresta and the modern skeleton run, for which the toboggans are fitted with brakes and riders can’t pitch out.
Nigel really hammers home the point about raking effectively. ‘This is your bloody lifeline,’ he urges. ‘Make sure you continue raking with full power until you’re round Shuttlecock or else the Cresta will discard you like a dirty handkerchief.’
The day of my visit coincides with a British armed-forces training day. The place is full of young, fit, fearless individuals in striking Lycra or latex bodysuits that display the division to which they belong: the Army are in red with blue bands, the Royal Navy in dark blue and the Royal Air Force in sky blue. To a civvy like me, this comes as a surprise, but SMTC assistant secretary Andrew Mills tells me the military are frequent visitors.
He explains the strong historical link between the armed forces and this exclusive private club: ‘There are three types of people who ride the Cresta: the privileged, the aristocracy and the military. Some of our 1500 members are all three, others are two and a few are just one, like me. I’m ex-Royal Navy. The club was founded in 1887 by Major William Henry Bulpett of the British Army and, ever since, we’ve maintained a military mindset here. It brings a certain discipline and punctuality, and sometimes a sharp word. That may not be to everyone’s taste, but it helps remind people to take the sport seriously and stay safe.’
Andrew is responsible for ice, toboggans and riding, which involves run safety and construction. Unlike bobsleigh tracks that are permanent concrete structures, the Cresta must be hand-built each winter according to its original layout. As a result, the track is always slightly different each year and the riding season entirely dependent on the weather. It usually runs from the week before Christmas until the beginning of March.
‘We do our best to make the run as safe as possible, but riding the Cresta remains dangerous,’ Andrew adds. ‘It’s this element of risk that brings us together as a club – when members are racing, it’s not against each other, but against the ice itself. For me, the SMTC is one great big family – I’ve been riding since 1992 and there are riders here whom I now count among my best friends. We’re not closed to new members, though, and there’s no reason why anybody of a certain physical ability, with a little sporting prowess and a crazy desire to do this sport should not be able to do so – they can apply on the website and then just turn up. However, it’s not cheap to ride the Cresta, and the club is based in St Moritz, which is the most exclusive resort in the world.’
The Cresta Run and SMTC clubhouse both sit in the grounds of the five-star Kulm Hotel, a grand establishment located to the north of the town, overlooking the lake and surrounding valley. It was the first hotel to be built in St Moritz and played a big role in the development of the town, especially as a winter resort. The Kulm’s founder, Johannes Badrutt, was very successful at courting the British aristocracy, who started coming to the region to escape the bleak weather at home. Despite temperatures that daily drop below freezing, the region is almost always bathed in sunshine, making conditions incredibly mild.
Today, the resort remains a firm favourite with an affluent international clientele, and the 172-room hotel has maintained its position as the leading establishment in the region, despite facing a fair amount of competition. Since taking up the position in 2013, the current general manager, Heinz Hunkeler, has made it his mission to maintain the Kulm’s status while expanding the limits of fine hospitality.
‘Ours is one of the last truly grand hotels in Europe, but far from being old-fashioned, it is adapting to meet the needs of a modern world,’ he explains, relaxing in an armchair in the Kulm’s day room. ‘Not everybody wants to stay in a new hotel or a chain such as the Four Seasons, and that’s why these exceptional establishments from the past can offer so much. It’s really important to preserve our unique heritage without making the place feel too stiff or complicated, and for me, that can be achieved by focusing on three things: our spa, guests with children, and gastronomy.’
And it seems Heinz’s approach is paying off: the Kulm was recently awarded the prestigious GaultMillau Hotel of the Year Award 2018 – the hospitality industry’s equivalent of the Academy Award for best film. The prize celebrated the hotel’s aforementioned breathtaking 2000 sq ft spa, which has a large indoor pool with views over the surrounding mountains and an underwater music system, as well as whirlpools, saunas and steam rooms. Its seven dining options were also heralded – in particular, its traditional grand restaurant and a recent pop-up by two-Michelin-starred chef Tim Raue.
Heinz is also focused on preserving the Kulm’s winter-sports heritage, and oversaw a £10 million renovation of the Kulm Country Club, which sits next to the hotel and overlooks a large ice rink. The pavilion was built in 1905 and hosted the opening ceremonies of the 1928 and 1948 Winter Olympic Games. It now functions as a café and restaurant as well as an informal museum curating the Olympic past, and many antique sporting memorabilia grace its walls. British architect Sir Norman Foster, who designed the McLaren Technology Centre in Woking, UK, contributed to the project and expanded the adjoining Eispavillon building, to great acclaim.
Another space paying homage to St Moritz’s sporting history is the Sunny Bar, in the depths of the Kulm Hotel, which is the mythical home of the Cresta riders. It’s the oldest sports bar in the Alps and the place where courageous Cresta pilots congregate after their runs to blow off steam and toast their successes. The walls and ceilings of the de facto clubroom are hung with trophies and awards, most of them bearing the name Lord Clifton Wrottesley. This British hereditary peer is the most successful Cresta rider of recent years and the fastest man ever to go down the run – in a lightning-quick 49.92 seconds.
Lord Wrottesley, who races in an all-black suit, is a bit like the Black Knight in the legend of King Arthur, challenging any adversary that comes across his path. Unlike the Black Knight, however, his Lordship is yet to meet his match. Younger riders mention his name reverently around the SMTC, but when we meet him, we find him to be a charming and down-to-earth character who is only too happy to share his sporting wisdom.
‘There are four main races that Cresta riders aim for,’ he tells us, explaining the club’s highest honours. ‘These are called the colour races and include the Curzon Cup, the Morgan Cup, the Brabazon Trophy and Grand National. They’re the most important races and if you win them all in the same season, you achieve the most prestigious Grand Slam title. Other than that, the top riders aim to score the best time in the season and the best-ever overall.’
Lord Wrottesley is the Cresta’s equivalent of Usain Bolt. Since 1996, he has won more than 50 classic races (the Curzon a record 11 times, the Morgan 12 times, the Brabazon 14 times and the Grand National 13 times). He has won the Grand Slam five times, most recently in 2012. But his success isn’t confined to the Cresta Run – in 2002, he competed in the Winter Olympics for Ireland, where he was born. He finished fourth in the skeleton event and narrowly missed out on a medal, even though it’s not really his sport.
Innovation has always been part of the Cresta, and one former champion, Nino Bibbia, used to put his sledge in the oven before races, so its runners cut through the ice! Lord Wrottesley admits he spends an unhealthy amount of time thinking about ways to make his toboggan more competitive, which is perhaps the secret to his success. Currently, he is working with a number of toboggan builders and experimenting with new designs, including an exciting new toboggan/suit combination that uses computational fluid design.
‘Changes in equipment can shave time off each run, but the most important part of racing remains mindset,’ he adds. ‘You need to be slightly unhinged to want to do this sport in the first place. For me, it’s imperative to get in the zone before I race, and the only way I can do that is to get angry. I go berserk. I need the red mist to descend so I literally shout and grunt. I need the anger to overcome the fear, because it’s far too easy to focus on all the elements that could go badly wrong. Turning my anxiety into aggression is probably my biggest strength and it also has the residual effect of everyone around me thinking I’m a complete lunatic and being put off their own game.’
If a champion such as Lord Wrottesley must go to such lengths to overcome his fears, what chance do I have? In any case, back on the run, it’s too late for wishful thinking and, as my toboggan quickly picks up pace, I’m incapable of doing anything about it. The first bend approaches in a flurry of white and, behind me, I hear Nigel roaring at me to rake. When I get my legs to obey the command, I try to slam my toes into the ice but barely notice any change in pace. Instead of gliding round, I smash into the ice wall and ricochet off. The rest is a blur of pain and speed.
Things are happening very fast. I’m spun left, then I’m spun right and, before I know any better, I’m mounting the parapet at an alarming rate. ‘This must be Shuttlecock,’ I think, before flying through the air and crash-landing in a ball next to the track, releasing a cloud of snow.
When I realise I’m unhurt, I open my eyes, rise to my feet and wave my arms to signal to the safety tower I’m OK. My heart is pounding in my chest and my whole body is in shock but, amazingly, I find myself grinning from ear to ear. That was the most exhilarating thing I have ever done in my life.
The sensation of speed is unlike anything else. In a car, 60mph feels almost pedestrian, but on the Cresta, it feels like the fastest you’ve ever travelled. In a state of shock, I walk towards my sledge, reliving the last few seconds. Suddenly, it hits me and I get what all the fuss is about. I understand why all these riders come back here every season to risk it all on the run. The rush is overwhelming.
Something has woken up inside of me and now all I can think about is getting back to the top and having another go. I’m like a junkie intent on getting his next fix. My mind is made up and I have a simple plan: get back to the start line, manage my fear, make it past Shuttlecock and go faster. Forever faster.
