It's Grεεκ To Me

CommanderRoss

And another connection to the Birding Bond thread....

Thunderfinger

Just thought of another obvious Greek Bond connection: OCTOPUSSY.

Octo being Greek for 8.

RichardTheBruce

Noted, @Thunderfinger.

Thunderfinger

On the same note, Pentagon also applies.

Thunderfinger

Τζέιμς Μπόντ

James Bond.

RichardTheBruce

With the opening of the 2018 Winter Olympic Games in PyeongChang, Republic of Korea,
there's an opportunity to recognize how Bond compares.

Greek-wise to the PyeongChang logo, notice the use of the ㅍ Korean Hangul alphabet character
in the form similar to Greek columns/structure, and ㅊ as a snowflake.

From Wikipedia.

Host city - Pyeongchang (평창) County, South Korea
Motto - Passion. Connected.
Korean: 하나된 열정. (Hanadoen Yeoljeong)
Nations participating - 92
Athletes participating - 2,920
Events - 102 in 7 sports (15 disciplines)
Opening ceremony - 9 February
Closing ceremony - 25 February
Officially opened by President Moon Jae-in
Athlete's Oath - Mo Tae-bum
Olympic Torch - Yuna Kim
Stadium - Pyeongchang Olympic Stadium

Winter Games: previous at Sochi 2014; next at Beijing 2022
Summer Games: previous at Rio 2016; next at Tokyo 2020

Of the fifteen categories (number of events in parenthesis below), I want to represent with general groups. There may be exact matches for the activity in Bond's world, and honorable mentions will also place.

Curling: Curling (3)
Sledding: Bobsleigh (3); Luge (4); Skeleton (2)
Snowboarding: Snowboarding (10)
Ice hockey: Ice Hockey (2)
Skating: Figure skating (5); Short track speed skating (8); Speed skating (14)
Skiing:: Biathlon (11); Alpine skiing (11 events); Cross-country skiing (12);
Freestyle skiing (10); Nordic combined (3); Ski jumping (4)

And we recognize the official timekeeper of the 2018 Winter Olympic Games.

RichardTheBruce

The Olympic motto: hendiatris Citius, Altius, Fortius. Latin: "Faster, Higher, Stronger".
Informal motto: "The most important thing is not to win but to take part!"


The Olympic Logo: inter-locked rings of blue, yellow, black, green, red. As created by Baron Pierre de Coubertin, 1912. Thought to represent the five continents Africa, Asia, America, Oceania, Europe.
One or more of the colors are found on every competing nation’s flag.

Unofficially, images exist aligning the colors with the continents and the Association of National Olympic Committees.



Question: why do the personnel at the de Bleuchamp Institute for Allergy Research sport the Olympic logo?
Got a good deal on the uniforms, I guess.

On Her Majesty’s Secret Service, Peter Hunt, 1969.

It's a great look for winter sports.

RichardTheBruce

Curling.
Known as chess on ice for its inherent strategy. Polished stones of granite slid across ice to a marked circle target—the house. Two teams of four person each; eight stones each team. Stones closest to the center of target increase the score.

Strategies:
- spinning the stone into an arced path.
- sweeping with brooms in front of the stone to decrease friction, decrease the curl.
- selection of the optimum path.
- moving the other team's stones from the circle.

The sport can be traced to 16th Century Scotland, and the term curling to 17th Century Scotland.

"The Hunters in the Snow", Pieter Bruegel, 1565.

"Winter Landscape with a Bird Trap", Pieter Bruegel, 1565.

Curling Sheet.



Curling Stone.

RichardTheBruce

Curling at Piz Gloria.

On Her Majesty’s Secret Service, Peter Hunt, 1969.

Bunt: Good morning, Sir Hilary. Your stiffness of last night, it is all gone?

Bond: For the time being.

Bunt: Then come and do curling with us.

Bond: Won´t it be frightfully energetic?

Bunt: No. We will show you.

Bond: You can teach me.

Girls: Come on, Sir Hilary.

…
Bunt: Your throw, I think it is.

Bond: No, Fraulein! I had my throw. Made a mess of it, l´m afraid.

Bunt: That didn´t count. You can throw again.

Girls: Yes! Go on!

Bond: Very civil of you.

…
Bond: l´d like the afternoon off, so if the cable car´s going down...

Blofeld: But you´ve already had the morning off.

Bond: I must have some fresh air. Your ancestors are very hard work.

Blofeld: And the College of Arms is being very well paid.

Bond: Well, if you put it like that...

Blofeld: I do put it like that.

Bond: Let me show you what l´ve achieved, then we can go to Augsburg.

Blofeld: Not over Christmas. The archives will be closed, no?

Bunt: Come, girls. Time for our massage. Girls, that is enough curling for today.

These things can really take on a life of their own.
Witness the Ottowa Hunt & Golf Club invite below to their Bond-themed event later this month.
https://ottawahuntclub.org/curling/
https://ottawahuntclub.org/wp-content/uploads/2017/10/2018_-SweetheartEntry.pdf

Thunderfinger

There are a lot of Olympic references in FYEO.

RichardTheBruce

My plan is to go to each event and find the closest matches to the sport on screen, in dialog, and in the Fleming books. So, next: Bobsleigh. Which of course includes For Your Eyes Only as you said.

Separately I can do a film location roll up and call out Olympic athletes from the cast and crew.

That's just the plan, @Thunderfinger, of course discussion can take different directions.

Thunderfinger

I love the bobsleigh scene in OHMSS.

RichardTheBruce

The helmet-on-ice sound is hard for me to forget.

Thunderfinger

Oh yes. The whole thing is so intense.

RichardTheBruce

Bobsleigh

https://www.olympic.org/bobsleigh
Bobsleigh is a winter sport invented by the Swiss in the late 1860s in which teams make timed runs down narrow, twisting, banked, iced tracks in a gravity-powered sled.

19th century beginnings
The sport of bobsleigh didn't begin until the late 19th century when the Swiss attached two skeleton sleds together and added a steering mechanism to make a toboggan. A chassis was added to give protection to wealthy tourists and the world's first bobsleigh club was founded in St Moritz, Switzerland in 1897.

Super heavy
By the 1950s, the critical importance of the start had been recognized and athletes with explosive strength from other sports were drawn to bobsledding. In 1952, a critical rule change limiting the total weight of crew and sled ended the era of the super heavyweight bobsledder and rebalanced the sport as an athletic contest.

Back and forth
In its original form, the first races used skeleton sleds made of wood. However, they were soon replaced by steel sleds that came to be known as bobsleighs because of the way crews bobbed back and forth to increase their speed at the start. Today, the world's top teams train year-round and compete mostly on artificial ice tracks in sleek high-tech sleds made of fibreglass and steel.

Olympic history
In 1924, a four-man race took place at the first ever Olympic Winter Games in Chamonix. A two-man event was added at the 1932 Lake Placid Games in a format that has remained to the present. The first women's bobsleigh event - the two-woman bobsled - was held in 2002.

Bobsleigh
The Fédération Internationale de Bobsleigh et de Tobogganing (FIBT) was founded in 1923. Bobsleigh made its Olympic debut at the 1924 Chamonix Winter Games.

RichardTheBruce

On Her Majesty’s Secret Service, Ian Fleming, 1963.
Chapter 9 – Irma La Not So Douce

So! Piz Gloria! Bond walked into the inviting yellow oblong. The door, released by the woman, closed with a pneumatic hiss.

Inside it was deliriously warm, almost hot. They were in a small reception room, and a youngish man with a very pale crew-cut and shrewd eyes got to his feet from behind a desk and made a slight bob in their direction. ' Sir Hilary is in Number Two.'

'Weiss schon,' said the woman curtly and, only just more politely, to Bond, 'Follow me, please.' She went through a facing door and down a thickly-piled, red-carpeted passage. The left-hand wall was only occasionally broken by windows interspersed with fine skiing and mountain photographs. On the right were at first the doors of the club rooms, marked Bar, Restaurant, and Toiletten. Then came what were obviously the doors of bedrooms. Bond was shown into Number Two. It was an extremely comfortable, chintzy room in the American motel style with a bathroom leading off. The broad picture window was now curtained, but Bond knew that it must offer a tremendous view over the valley to the Suvretta group above St Moritz. Bond threw his briefcase on the double bed and gratefully disposed of his bowler hat and umbrella. The extra man appeared with his suitcase, placed it on the luggage stand without looking at Bond, and withdrew, closing the door behind him. The woman stayed where she was. 'This is to your satisfaction?' The yellow eyes were indifferent to his enthusiastic reply. She had more to say. 'That is good. Now perhaps I should explain some things, convey to you some laws of the club, isn't it?'

Bond lit a cigarette. 'That would certainly be helpful.' He put a politely interested expression on his face. 'Where are we, for instance?'

'In the Alps. In the high Alps,' said the woman vaguely. 'This Alp, Piz Gloria, is the property of the Count. Together with the Gemeinde, the local authorities, he constructed the Seilbahn. You have seen the cables, yes? This is the first year it is opened. It is very popular and brings in much money. There are some fine ski runs. The Gloria Abfahrt is already famous. There is also a bob-sleigh run that is much greater than the Cresta at St Moritz. You have heard of that? You ski perhaps? Or make the bob-sleigh?'

The yellow eyes were watchful. Bond thought he would continue to answer no to all questions. Instinct told him to. He said apologetically. 'I'm afraid not. Never got around to it, you know. Too much bound up with my books, perhaps.' He smiled ruefully, self-critically.

'Schade! That is a pity.' But the eyes registered satisfaction. 'These installations bring good income for the Count. That is important. It helps to support his life's work, the Institut.'

Chapter 11 – Death For Breakfast

…
James Bond put his breakfast on the desk and, with some difficulty, managed to prise open the double window. He removed the small bolster that lay along the sill between the panes to keep out draughts, and blew away the accumulated dust and small fly-corpses. The cold, savourless air of high altitudes rushed into the room and Bond went to the thermostat and put it up to 90 as a counter-attack. While, his head below the level of the sill, he ate a spare continental breakfast, he heard the chatter of the girls assembling outside on the terrace. The voices were high with excitement and debate. Bond could hear every word.

'I really don't think Sarah should have told on him.'

'But he came in in the dark and started mucking her about.'

'You mean actually interfering with her?'

'So she says. If I'd been her, I'd have done the same. And he's such a beast of a man.'

'Was, you mean. Which one was it, anyway?'

'One of the Yugos. Bertil.'

'Oh, I know. Yes, he was pretty horrible. He had such dreadful teeth.'

'You oughtn't to say such things of the dead.'

'How do you know he's dead? What happened to him, anyway?'

'He was one of the two you see spraying the start of the bob-run. You see them with hoses every morning. It's to get it good and icy so they'll go faster. Fritz told me he somehow slipped, lost his balance, or something. And that was that. He just went off down the run like a sort of human bob-sleigh.'

'Elizabeth! How can you be so heartless about it!'

'Well, that's what happened. You asked.'

'But couldn't he save himself?'

'Don't be idiotic. It's sheet ice, a mile of it. And the bobs get up to sixty miles an hour. He hadn't got a prayer.'

'But didn't he fly off at one of the bends?'

'Fritz said he went all the way to the bottom. Crashed into the tuning hut. But Fritz says he must have been dead in the first hundred yards or so.'

'Oh, here's Franz. Franz, can I have scrambled eggs and coffee? And tell them to make the scrambled eggs runny like I always have them.'

'Yes, miss. And you, miss?' The waiter took the orders and Bond heard his boots creak off across the boards.

The sententious girl was being sententious again. 'Well, all I can say is it must have been some kind of punishment for what he tried to do to Sarah. You always get paid off for doing wrong.'

'Don't be ridiculous. God would never punish you as severely as that.' The conversation followed this new hare off into a maze of infantile morality and the Scriptures.

Bond lit a cigarette and sat back, gazing thoughtfully at the sky. No, the girl was right. God wouldn't mete out such a punishment. But Blofeld would.

Had there been one of those Blofeld meetings at which, before the full body of men, the crime and the verdict had been announced? Had this Bertil been taken out and dropped on to the bob-run? Or had his companion been quietly dealt the card of death, told to give the sinner the trip or the light push that was probably all that had been needed? More likely. The quality of the scream had been of sudden, fully realized terror as the man fell, scrabbled at the ice with his finger-nails and boots, and then, as he gathered speed down the polished blue gully, the bunding horror of the truth. And what a death! Bond had once gone down the Cresta, from 'Top', to prove to himself that he dared. Helmeted, masked against the blast of air, padded with leather and foam rubber, that had still been sixty seconds of naked fear. Even now he could remember how his limbs had shaken when he rose stiffly from the flimsy little skeleton bob at the end of the run-out. And that had been a bare three-quarters of a mile. This man, or the flayed remains of him, had done over a mile. Had he gone down head or feet first? Had his body started tumbling? Had he tried, while consciousness remained, to brake himself over the edge of one of the early, scientifically banked bends with the unspiked toe of this boot or that...? No. After the first few yards, he would already have been going too fast for any rational thought or action. God, what a death! A typical Blofeld death, a typical SPECTRE revenge for the supreme crime of disobedience. That was the way to keep discipline in the ranks! So, concluded Bond as he cleared the tray away and got down to his books, SPECTRE walks again! But down what road this time?

Chapter 12 – Two Near Misses

…
Bond, excited, left the scene and followed arrows that pointed to the GLORIA EXPRESS BOB-RUN. It lay on the other side of the cable station. There was a small wooden hut, the starter's hut, with telephone-wires connected to the station, and, beneath the cable station, a little 'garage' that housed the bob-sleighs and one-man skeleton-bobs. A chain, with a notice on it saying ABFAHRTEN TÄGLICH 0900-1100, was stretched across the wide mouth of the gulch of blue ice that curved away to the left and then disappeared over the shoulder. Here again was a metal map showing the zigzag course of the run down into the valley. In deference to the English traditions at the sport, outstanding curves and hazards were marked with names such as 'Dead Man's Leap', 'Whizz-Bang Straight', 'Battling S', 'Hell's Delight', 'The Boneshaker', and the finishing straight down 'Paradise Alley'. Bond visualized the scene that morning, heard again that heart-rending scream. Yes, that death certainly had the old Blofeld touch!

'Sair Hilary! Sair Hilary!'

Startled out of his thoughts, Bond turned. Fraulein Irma Bunt, her short arms akimbo, was standing on the path to the club.

'Lunch time! Lunch!'

Chapter 25 – Hell’s Delight, Etc.

…
Fritz, the 'head waiter', said angrily. 'The local police have already been here. They have made their report. All is in order. Please leave at once. What is the Federal Police Alpine Patrol? I have never heard of it.'

The pilot nudged Bond and pointed over to the left, to the building that housed the Count and the laboratories. A man, clumsy in bob-sleigh helmet and padding, was running down the path towards the cable station. He would be out of sight of the men on the ground. Bond said 'Blast!' and scrambled out of his seat and into the cabin. He leaned out of the door and shouted, 'The Big One. He's getting away!'
As Bond jumped, one of the SPECTRE men shouted, 'Der Englander. Der Spion!' And then, as Bond started running away to the right, weaving and dodging, all hell broke loose. There came the boom of heavy automatics as the SPECTRE team got off their first rounds, and bullets, tracer, Sashed past Bond with the noise of humming-birds' wings. Then came the answering roar of the Schmeissers and Bond was left alone.

Now he was round the corner of the club, and, a hundred yards down the slope, the man in the crash helmet had torn open the door of the 'garage' for the bob-sleighs in the foundations of the cable station. He emerged carrying a one-man skeleton bob. Holding it in front of him as a shield, he fired a burst from a heavy automatic at Bond and again the humming-birds whirred past. Bond knelt and, steadying his gun with two hands, fired three rounds with his Walther, but the man was now running the few yards to the glistening ice-mouth of the Gloria Express bob-run. Bond got a glimpse of the profile under the moon. Yes, it was Blofeld all right! Even as Bond ran on down the slope, the man had flung himself down on his skeleton and had disappeared as if swallowed up by the glistening landscape. Bond got to the 'garage'. Damn, they were all six-men or two-men models! No, there was one skeleton at the back! Bond hauled it out. No time to see if the runners were straight, the steering-arm shifting easily! He ran to the start and hurled himself under the protecting chain in a mad forward dive that landed him half on and half off his skeleton. He straightened himself and shifted his body well forward on the flimsy little aluminium platform and gripped the steering-arm, keeping his elbows well in to his sides. He was already going like hell down the dark-blue gutter! He tried braking with the toes of both his boots. Damned little difference! What came first on the blasted run? There was this lateral straight across the shoulder of the mountain, then a big banked curve. He was into it now! Bond kept his right shoulder down and inched right on the steering-arm. Even so, he went perilously near the top edge of the bank before he dived down into the dark gully again. What came next on that metal map? Why in hell hadn't he studied it more carefully? He got his answer! It looked tike a straight, but the shadows camouflaged a sharp dip. Bond left the ground and flew. The crash of his landing almost knocked the wind out of his body. He frantically dug his toes into the ice, managed to get down from perhaps fifty m.p.h. to forty. Well, well! So that was 'Dead Man's Leap.' What in hell was the next bit of murder? 'Whizz-Bang Straight'! And by God it was! - 200 yards when he must have been doing around seventy. He remembered that on the finishing straight of the Cresta the stars got up to over eighty. No doubt something like that was still to come! But now, flashing towards him, in silver and black, came an S-bend - 'Battling S'. The toes of Bond's boots slid maddeningly on the black ice. Under his nose he could see the parallel tracks of Blofeld's runners and, between them, the grooves of his toe-spikes. The old fox! As soon as he heard the helicopter, he must have got himself fixed for his only escape route. But at this speed Bond must surely be catching up with him! For God's sake look out! Here comes the S! There was nothing he could do about it. He swayed his body as best he could, felt the searing crash of one elbow against one wall, was hurled across into the opposite one, and was then spewed out into the straight again. God Almighty, but it hurt! He could feel the cold wind on both elbows. The cloth had gone! Then so had the skin! Bond clenched his teeth. And he was only half-way down, if that! But then, ahead, flashing through a patch of moonlight, was the other body, Blofeld! Bond took a chance, heaved himself up on one hand and reached down for his gun. The wind tried to tear him off the bob, but he had the gun. He opened his mouth wide and gripped the gun between his teeth, flexed the ice-caked leather on his right hand. Then he got the gun in his right hand, lifted his toes off the ice, and went like hell. But now the man had disappeared into the shadows and a giant bank reared up ahead. This would be 'Hell's Delight'! Oh well, if he could make this, there would be another straight and he could begin shooting. Bond dug his toes in, got a glimpse of an ice-wall ahead and to the left, and in a flash was climbing it, straight up! God, in a split second he would be over the edge! Bond hammered in his right boot and lurched his body to the right, tearing at the steering-arm. Reluctantly the sliver of aluminium answered and Bond, inches from the top of the wall, found himself swooping down into blackness and then out again on to a moonlit straight. Only fifty yards ahead was the flying figure, with chips of ice fountaining up from the braking spikes on his boots. Bond held his breath and got off two shots. He thought they were good ones, but now the mad had gone into shadow again. But Bond was gaining, gaining. His lips drew back from his teeth in an almost animal snarl. You bastard! You're a dead duck! You can't stop or fire back. I'm coming after you like lightning 1 Soon I shall only be ten, five yards behind you. Then you'll have had it!

But the shadows concealed another hazard, long transverse waves in the ice - 'The Bone-shaker'! Bond crashed from one to the next, felt his boots being almost torn from his feet as he tried to brake, nearly lost his gun, felt his stomach flatten against his spine with each shattering impact, felt his rib cage almost cracking. But then it was over and Bond sucked in air through his clenched teeth. Now for a length of straight! But what was that ahead on the track? It was something black, something the size of a big lemon that was bouncing along gaily like a child's rubber ball. Had Blofeld, now only about thirty yards ahead, dropped something, a bit of his equipment? Had he? The realization came to Bond in a surge of terror that almost made him vomit. He ground his toes into the ice. No effect! He was gaming on the gaily bouncing thing. Flashing down on it. On the grenade!

Bond, sick in the stomach, lifted his toes and let himself go. What setting had Blofeld put on it? How long had he held it with the pin out? The only hope was to pray to God and race it!

The next thing Bond knew was that the whole track had blown up in his face and that he and his skeleton bob were flying through the air. He landed in soft snow, with the skeleton on top of him and passed out like a light.

RichardTheBruce

On Her Majesty’s Secret Service, Peter Hunt, 1969.

Bunt: That is avalanche damage. You enjoy the skiing or the bobsleigh perhaps?

Bond: l´m not a sporting man, Fraulein. Even when l´m at my best.

Helicopter ride to Piz Gloria reveals the bobsled run seen later. (1:00)

Bond pursues Blofeld.

https://screenmusings.org/movie/blu-ray/On-Her-Majestys-Secret-Service/pages/On-Her-Majestys-Secret-Service-1122.htm
Helmet on ice.

RichardTheBruce

For Your Eyes Only, John Glen, 1981.
The ski chase diverts to the bobsled run.

RichardTheBruce

Honorable mention: the improvised toboggan from a cello case.

The Living Daylights, John Glen, 1987.

Toboggan (from 0:58).

RichardTheBruce

Luge

https://olympic.org/luge

Luge riders hurtle down a slippery ice track at great speed, relying on reflexes for steering. Unlike bobsleigh, however, they have no protection should they make an error.

Swiss origins
Luge is the French word for “sledge” and, like bobsleigh, it was developed as a sport in Switzerland. Its roots go back to the 16th century, but it was not until 300 years later that the first luge tracks were built by Swiss hotel owners to cater for thrill-seeking tourists.

Davos
The first international race course was held in Davos in 1883, with competitors racing along an icy 4km road between Davos and the village of Klosters.

RichardTheBruce

On Her Majesty’s Secret Service, Ian Fleming, 1963.
Chapter 17 – Bloody Snow

...
Bond, a grey-faced, lunging automaton, somehow stayed upright on the two miles of treacherous Langlauf down the gentle slope to Samaden. Once a passing car, its snow-chains clattering, forced him into the bank. He leaned against the comforting soft snow for a moment, the breath sobbing in his throat. Then he drove himself on again. He had got so far, done so well! Only a few more hundred yards to the lights of the darling, straggling little paradise of people and shelter!

The slender campanile of the village church was floodlit and there was a great warm lake of light on the left of the twinkling group of houses. The strains of a waltz came over the still, frozen air. The skating-rink! A Christmas Eve skaters' ball. That was the place for him! Crowds! Gaiety! Confusion! Somewhere to lose himself from the double hunt that would now be on - by SPECTRE and the Swiss police, the cops and the robbers hand in hand!

Bond's skis hit a pile of horse's dung from some merrymaker's sleigh. He lurched drunkenly into the snow wall of the road and righted himself, cursing feebly. Come on! Pull yourself together! Look respectable! Well, you needn't look too respectable. After all, it's Christmas Eve. Here were the first houses. The noise of accordion music, deliciously nostalgic, came from a Gasthaus with a beautiful iron sign over its door. Now there was a twisty, uphill bit - the road to St Moritz. Bond shuffled up it, placing his sticks carefully. He ran a hand through his matted hair and pulled the sweat-soaked handkerchief down to his neck, tucking the ends into his shirt collar. The music lilted down towards him from the great pool of light over the skating-rink. Bond pulled himself a little more upright. There were a lot of cars drawn up, skis stuck in mounds of snow, luges and toboggans, festoons of paper streamers, a big notice in three languages across the entrance:' Grand Christmas Eve Ball! Fancy Dress! Entrance 2 Francs! Bring all your friends! Hooray!'

Bond dug in his sticks and bent down to unlatch his skis. He fell over sideways. If only he could just lie there, go to sleep on the hard, trodden snow that felt like swansdown! He gave a small groan and heaved himself gingerly into a crouch. The bindings were frozen solid, caked, like his boots, with ice. He got one of his sticks and hacked feebly at the metal and tried again. At last the latches sprang and the thongs were off. Where to put the bloody things, hide their brilliant red markings? He lugged them down the trodden path towards the entrance, gay with fairy lights, shoved the skis and the sticks under a big saloon car, and staggered on. The man at the ticket-table was as drunk as Bond seemed.

RichardTheBruce

I can't find a Luge example in the films.

Minus the ice, I'd guess there's one clear contender who's shown he could manage the Luge action on screen.

You Only Live Twice, Lewis Gilbert, 1967.

Meeting Tanaka.

Agent_99

"My childhood was typical: summers in Rangoon...luge lessons...In the spring, we'd make meat helmets...When I was insolent I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds — pretty standard, really."

RichardTheBruce

Skeleton

https://olympic.org/skeleton
Skeleton racing involves plummeting head-first down a steep and treacherous ice track on a tiny sled. It is considered the world's first sliding sport.

Thrill-seeking tourists
Sleighing is one of the oldest winter sports. Descriptions of the sport can be found in 16th-century literature, but as a racing sport it can be traced to the mid-19th century, when British tourists started sliding down snowbound roads in the Alps. British and American holidaymakers built the first toboggan run in Davos in 1882.

The Cresta run
Skeleton sled racing owes it entire early history to St Moritz and the famed Cresta Run. The sport developed in the Swiss resort town as a pursuit for the rich. E. F. Benson put it best when he wrote in 1913, “There is one Mecca, there is one St Peter's, and there is one Cresta.”

RichardTheBruce

On Her Majesty's Secret Service, Ian Fleming, 1963.
Chapter 25 - Hell's Delight, etc.

...
Now he was round the corner of the club, and, a hundred yards down the slope, the man in the crash helmet had torn open the door of the 'garage' for the bob-sleighs in the foundations of the cable station. He emerged carrying a one-man skeleton bob. Holding it in front of him as a shield, he fired a burst from a heavy automatic at Bond and again the humming-birds whirred past. Bond knelt and, steadying his gun with two hands, fired three rounds with his Walther, but the man was now running the few yards to the glistening ice-mouth of the Gloria Express bob-run. Bond got a glimpse of the profile under the moon. Yes, it was Blofeld all right! Even as Bond ran on down the slope, the man had flung himself down on his skeleton and had disappeared as if swallowed up by the glistening landscape. Bond got to the 'garage'. Damn, they were all six-men or two-men models! No, there was one skeleton at the back! Bond hauled it out. No time to see if the runners were straight, the steering-arm shifting easily! He ran to the start and hurled himself under the protecting chain in a mad forward dive that landed him half on and half off his skeleton. He straightened himself and shifted his body well forward on the flimsy little aluminium platform and gripped the steering-arm, keeping his elbows well in to his sides. He was already going like hell down the dark-blue gutter!

He tried braking with the toes of both his boots. Damned little difference! What came first on the blasted run? There was this lateral straight across the shoulder of the mountain, then a big banked curve. He was into it now! Bond kept his right shoulder down and inched right on the steering-arm. Even so, he went perilously near the top edge of the bank before he dived down into the dark gully again. What came next on that metal map? Why in hell hadn't he studied it more carefully? He got his answer! It looked tike a straight, but the shadows camouflaged a sharp dip. Bond left the ground and flew. The crash of his landing almost knocked the wind out of his body. He frantically dug his toes into the ice, managed to get down from perhaps fifty m.p.h. to forty. Well, well! So that was 'Dead Man's Leap.' What in hell was the next bit of murder? 'Whizz-Bang Straight'! And by God it was! - 200 yards when he must have been doing around seventy. He remembered that on the finishing straight of the Cresta the stars got up to over eighty. No doubt something like that was still to come! But now, flashing towards him, in silver and black, came an S-bend - 'Battling S'. The toes of Bond's boots slid maddeningly on the black ice. Under his nose he could see the parallel tracks of Blofeld's runners and, between them, the grooves of his toe-spikes. The old fox! As soon as he heard the helicopter, he must have got himself fixed for his only escape route. But at this speed Bond must surely be catching up with him! For God's sake look out! Here comes the S! There was nothing he could do about it. He swayed his body as best he could, felt the searing crash of one elbow against one wall, was hurled across into the opposite one, and was then spewed out into the straight again. God Almighty, but it hurt! He could feel the cold wind on both elbows. The cloth had gone! Then so had the skin! Bond clenched his teeth. And he was only half-way down, if that! But then, ahead, flashing through a patch of moonlight, was the other body, Blofeld! Bond took a chance, heaved himself up on one hand and reached down for his gun. The wind tried to tear him off the bob, but he had the gun. He opened his mouth wide and gripped the gun between his teeth, flexed the ice-caked leather on his right hand. Then he got the gun in his right hand, lifted his toes off the ice, and went like hell. But now the man had disappeared into the shadows and a giant bank reared up ahead. This would be 'Hell's Delight'! Oh well, if he could make this, there would be another straight and he could begin shooting. Bond dug his toes in, got a glimpse of an ice-wall ahead and to the left, and in a flash was climbing it, straight up! God, in a split second he would be over the edge! Bond hammered in his right boot and lurched his body to the right, tearing at the steering-arm. Reluctantly the sliver of aluminum answered and Bond, inches from the top of the wall, found himself swooping down into blackness and then out again on to a moonlit straight. Only fifty yards ahead was the flying figure, with chips of ice fountaining up from the braking spikes on his boots. Bond held his breath and got off two shots. He thought they were good ones, but now the mad had gone into shadow again. But Bond was gaining, gaining. His lips drew back from his teeth in an almost animal snarl. You bastard! You're a dead duck! You can't stop or fire back. I'm coming after you like lightning! Soon I shall only be ten, five yards behind you. Then you'll have had it!

But the shadows concealed another hazard, long transverse waves in the ice - 'The Bone-shaker'! Bond crashed from one to the next, felt his boots being almost torn from his feet as he tried to brake, nearly lost his gun, felt his stomach flatten against his spine with each shattering impact, felt his rib cage almost cracking. But then it was over and Bond sucked in air through his clenched teeth. Now for a length of straight! But what was that ahead on the track? It was something black, something the size of a big lemon that was bouncing along gaily like a child's rubber ball. Had Blofeld, now only about thirty yards ahead, dropped something, a bit of his equipment? Had he? The realization came to Bond in a surge of terror that almost made him vomit. He ground his toes into the ice. No effect! He was gaming on the gaily bouncing thing. Flashing down on it. On the grenade!

Bond, sick in the stomach, lifted his toes and let himself go. What setting had Blofeld put on it? How long had he held it with the pin out? The only hope was to pray to God and race it!

The next thing Bond knew was that the whole track had blown up in his face and that he and his skeleton bob were flying through the air. He landed in soft snow, with the skeleton on top of him and passed out like a light.

Later, Bond was to estimate that he lay there only a matter of minutes. It was a tremendous explosion from the mountain above him that brought him staggering to his feet, up to his belly in snow. He looked vaguely up to where it had come from. It must have been the club building going up, because now there was the glare of flames and a tower of smoke that rose towards the moon. There came the echoing crack of another explosion and Blofeld's block disintegrated, great chunks of it crashing down the mountain side, turning themselves into giant snowballs that bounded off down towards the tree-line. By God, they'll start another avalanche! thought Bond vaguely. Then he realized that it didn't matter this time, he was away to the right, almost underneath the cable railway. And now the station went up and Bond stared fascinated as the great wires, their tension released, came hissing and snaking down the mountain towards him. There was nothing he could do about it but stand and watch. If they cut him down, they cut him down. But they lashed past in the snow, wrapped themselves briefly round the tall pylon above the tree-line, tore it away in a metallic crackling, and disappeared over the edge of the shoulder.

RichardTheBruce

Skeleton honorable mention. It's got the ice. It's got the forward stance, minus the sled. Add automatic gunfire.

On Her Majesty's Secret Service, Peter Hunt, 1969.
Assault on Piz Gloria. (0:37)

imfdb.org/wiki/On_Her_Majesty%27s_Secret_Service

CommanderRoss

DOes Craig's skeleton suit in SP count as well?

RichardTheBruce

CommanderRoss wrote: »

DOes Craig's skeleton suit in SP count as well?

Deserves mention at least, @CommanderRoss.

RichardTheBruce

Snowboard

https://olympic.org/snowboard

Snowboarding combines elements of surfing, skateboarding, and skiing. It made its Olympic debut at the 1998 Nagano Games.

Recent history
Snowboarding was developed in the United States in the 1960s as people across the country began to seek out new winter activities. Over the next decade, various pioneers boosted the production of boards and the sport began to gain crossover appeal. Surfers and skateboarders became involved, and by 1980, snowboarding was a nationwide activity.

Mountain conflict
In the late 1970s snowboarders started to “invade” traditional ski resorts, but faced opposition from skiers who tried to exclude the snowboarders from “their” mountains. By the 1990s, however, almost all ski resorts had accepted snowboarding, and the resorts have found the snowboarders to be an excellent source of new revenue.

Getting organised
Competition was the next logical step. The United States held its first national championships in 1982 and hosted the first World Championships in 1983. The International Snowboarding Federation (ISF) formed seven years later and the International Ski Federation (FIS) introduced snowboarding as a FIS discipline in 1994. This helped pave the way for snowboarding’s inclusion in the Olympic Winter Games.

Olympic debut
Men’s and women’s snowboarding made their Olympic debuts at the Nagano Games in 1998 with giant slalom and halfpipe competitions. The discipline proved an instant success and returned to Salt Lake City four years later with parallel giant slalom and halfpipe competitions. In Turin, snowboard cross also made its debut. In this event four riders race across a course studded with jumps, bumps and huge turns.

RichardTheBruce

A View to a Kill, John Glen, 1985.
Snowboarding to safety.