Vermont Sports January

Looking for
Max
Speed
By Evan Johnson
Tony Telensky – also known as Max Speed – steers his Hammerhead
Sled through a turn on The Smugglers' Notch Road. Below, Telensky
shows the array of cameras he uses to record his sledding expeditions.
Photos by Evan Johnson
STOWE — After nearly an hour of hiking up the steep,
snow-covered Smugglers’ Notch Road, I was ready for
a break. Lacking both snowshoes and traction spikes
to help me through the snow, my lungs felt like they
might leap out of my chest and my thighs burned. The
camera strapped to my chest now weighed a ton and
the waterproofing on my boots had long failed. With
only about 100 yards until the summit, I pushed on in
my search for Max Speed.
At the top, I immediately recognized him by the
two video cameras mounted on the sides of his red and
silver helmet. His snowsuit had the word “sledneck”
emblazoned in red lettering on the pant leg and a
helmet with the stars and stripes of the American
flag. Two small cameras stuck out from each side like
antennae.
“You must be Max,” I said, catching my breath.
As winter descended on the Green Mountains,
I had received video clips of thrilling sled rides down
some of Vermont’s mountain roads. The man behind
the videos was a soft-spoken guy in a red, white and
blue motocross-style helmet who went by the moniker
“Max Speed.” Every video he sent featured reports on
the latest snow conditions on the hill and then footage
of rides down the 2,428-foot Lincoln Gap between
Lincoln and Warren or Mount Philo in Charlotte. The
rides seemed hellishly fast and the snow conditions
unbelievably good, so I had hiked out see for myself.
It turns out Max Speed is actually the nickname
of Tony Telensky of Jericho. Telensky is a maintenance
worker at IBM in Essex Junction and works 12-hour
shifts. This, he explained, gives him lots of time for
sledding, in addition to skiing and snowboarding,
which he does at neighboring Smugglers’ Notch
Resort.
“Twelve-hour days are pretty long, but it’s worth
it for all the days off,” he said. “It’s like being semiretired.”
With an elevation of 2,170 feet, Route 108 traverses
Smugglers’ Notch with hairpin turns winding around
boulders the size of small houses. When the snow
piles up, the road is closed until spring, creating an
irresistible playground for cross country skiers,
snowshoers, fat-bikers, ice climbers and of course, the
sledders, who were ready to go.
Today, I joined a group of about 10, who launched
themselves one by one, headfirst down the hill. As they
darted past me and smoothly entered the first turn,
they looked like sliding penguins. Suddenly they were
all gone, leaving me at the top with Tony’s wife, Pam
Telensky, who caught me up on some of their recent
excursions.
In addition to Smugglers’ Notch, they also
regularly head to Mount Philo in Charlotte and the
more advanced Lincoln Gap Road, which connects the
towns of Lincoln and Warren by way of a seasonal
road that includes the steepest mile of pavement in
the United States. “Min Speed” (her own sledding
nickname, indicating her preference for slower speeds)
told me the Lincoln side receives more sunlight and
was softer, while the Warren side was hard and fast.
“It was total, sheer panic for me,” she said,
recounting the descent into the Mad River Valley.
“I took off and I couldn’t turn. I just kept picking
up speed and I had to go with it until I could stop. I
was scared to death and my legs were shaking when I
got off. We’ve been riding these sleds since 2008 and
yesterday was the most frightened I’ve been.”
But sledding, she said, is not just for the younger
crowd.
“It turns old men back into little boys,” she said
with a laugh.
In preparation for my first ride of the day, Pam
graciously loaned me her helmet, which was bright
yellow and featured pink and purple flowers. I took a
running start and launched myself down the hillside.
All that hiking suddenly became worth it as the trees
and boulders passed in a black and grey blur. Fortyfive
minutes of hiking made for just under a minute
of an exhilarating descent, but I lacked the fine sense
of control needed to maintain both speed and control
through some dramatic turns. The bright yellow sled
nearly dumped me twice as I whipped around the
crags, startling hikers and causing their dogs to chase
8 VTSPORTS.COM JANUARY 2015