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Ever since I was a kid I’d wanted to have a go on a bobsleigh run. Just watching it on TV I could imagine the icy wind against your face and the stomach churning rush as you clatter down that frozen blue half pipe only just in control - so how come then, that we were sitting in our bobsleigh halfway down the track and not moving?

As far as I was aware these things are supposed to move faster than shit through a goose, yet we seemed to have ground to a halt with several hundred yards of the track still to go. And what was worse, there was another bob due to follow behind us at any moment.

After a few bewildered looks from myself and my three fellow passengers, followed by anxious glances back up the track, we slowly started to extricate ourselves from our hollow fibreglass bullet as self-preservation took hold - if there was gonna be a bobsleigh pile-up we weren’t particularly keen to be part of it.

As it turned out we needn’t have worried - we were on the first run of the day, and until the runners were ‘tuned’ properly the bobs were set up to run too slow rather than too fast. Now the mechanics in charge of such niceties could sort out the rest of the bobs which would fly past our parking spot and continue hell-for leather to the finish 400 metres away. And as for our run? Well, we got a second go to make up for the first being too slow.

Of course, it could be that we’d been told this before we’d set off, but as all instructions and advice were in French there was little way of knowing. We were at the Olympic bobsleigh run at the village of Le Roche, just below the ski resort of La Plagne in the French Alps. The run was built for the 1992 Winter Olympics, and is still the venue for international events (including this year’s World Cup competition), but when it’s not being used for competitions or training, the run is open to the public. No longer is bobsleighing the preserve of toffs and the Royal Marines, now plebs like me and you can go out there and scare ourselves to death on ‘Le Piste Olympique’ for a mere £20.

And whilst £20 may seem a lot to pay for a ride that lasts about 1 minute 30 seconds, it knocks any saddo computer game or theme park ride into a cocked hat and then firmly boots it into touch.

Having done one ‘slow’ run - almost - it wasn’t until I’d actually strapped myself in for the second go that the thought occurred to me "If that last one was slow what’s this going be like?" But by the time three other people had squeezed with me into a space not much bigger than a large coffin, it was too late to start worrying about whether this was a good move, because I wasn’t likely to be getting out again until I was some 1,700 metres further down the track.

It also pays to know your bobsleighing companions well, as you’re nestled snugly between each other’s legs and will soon be bouncing backwards and forwards in positions that are right out of ‘The Joy of Sex’. This was fine by me as I was sitting behind a cute French girl I’d never met in my life who didn’t seem to mind in the slightest about how close my nether regions were to her bum…

So, sex, speed and adrenalin all in one heady cocktail - can’t be bad, eh? And with that thought drifting through my mind we were pushed off from the start in our auto-steering bobsleigh (more of that later).

There’s a point for a few seconds at the beginning of the ride when you think hey, this isn’t that fast really. That’s until you go around the first bend, feel the speed picking up and then realise there’s nothing ahead but downhill, on ice, for the next mile or so. By the time that thought has worked its way through your synapses the involuntary screaming and whooping has started from all four passengers and everything you thought a bobsleigh run might be is proving to be correct.

You are projected into the corners like a torpedo, and as the bob rockets up the wall of these ice chicanes your stomach moves up to somewhere near your oesophagus and you are just buzzing - big time. There are some sections where you can’t help but wonder whether the bloody thing isn’t going to tip right over as it hurtles ever higher up the wall, but the combination of speed and g-forces keeps you right on track to drop down onto a straight and then whack! - like a high velocity pool ball you’re hanging over at the opposite angle as you blast into the next corner.

If you’ve seen bobsleighing on TV and thought it looks like a bit of a rough ride, then let me assure you that it is. You’re held down by a seat belt and there are straps to cling on to, but you can’t expect to plummet down a half cylinder of polished ice as smoothly as a Merc on an autobahn. And anyway, the bouncing around is all part of the fun.

Once you get used to the idea that this machine may be rough and clattery but it ain’t gonna roll over the next thing you want is more speed. Come on!! Faster, faster! Jesus, you can see why people get into this. It’s like a one-and-a-half-minute bungee jump; the longest and biggest wave you’ve ever ridden; the steepest downhill you’ve ever skied. And if you’ve never done any of those - well, it’s as good as sex.

Like so many intense, adrenalin charged experiences time seems to expand on a bobsleigh run so you literally feel as though you’ve only been thundering down the ice for 20 or 30 seconds as you round the last bend, even though it’s actually some 90 seconds since you set off.

If, as they say, happiness is infectious, the guys working at the finish point must be a joyous bunch - everyone who clambers out of the bobs removes their helmet to reveal a broad grin and a babble of enthusiastic gibberish which passes for an attempt to describe the experience. It’s a pity it costs £20 a shot because I could have happily spent all evening hammering down ‘Le Piste Olympique’. And what’s more, our bobsleigh had been the slowest of the two options available (see below). Next time I’m back in La Plagne I’ll definitely be going for the fastest possible way down the mountain - in the meantime I wonder whether there are any spaces on the British Olympic Team?

Bobbin' Along -A Few Bobsleigh Facts
There are two types of run, the ‘bob raft’ and the ‘taxi-bob’ (blame the French for the bizarre names):

The ‘bob raft’, which is described above, is an auto steering and auto-braking machine designed for four people, with no driver (!). This may sound and seem a little alarming, but it seems to work... This type of bob gets up to speeds of around 80 km/hr.

The ‘taxi-bob’ is faster, and is based on a competition bob. It’s driven by a professional driver with three passengers and reaches speeds of up to 105 km/hr.

Bob sleighing was popular in and around La Plagne long before the Olympic course was built. Originally the locals used to race down frozen roads. A local guy, Bruno Mingeon, is a member of France’s 1999 world title holding four-man bobsleigh team.

The course at La Roche is 1,700 m long, starts at an altitude of 1,684 m and finishes at a height of 1,559 m with an average incline of 8.3 % and a maximum incline of 16%. It’s open from November to early March, and is a spectacular sight at night as the whole thing is lit up.