Winter Olympics: Scientist or Madman, Dr Ice is Fired Up for Winter Olympic Glory

"There is a touch of madness to it," Kristan Bromley says dryly as he describes hurtling head-first and face-down at 90mph on a narrow steel frame inches from the ice, without a steering mechanism or brake to slow the terrifying rush. Plunging straight down for more than a mile, hunched low against a roaring 5g-force, the bone-rattling skeleton bobsleigh on which Bromley hopes to win gold in next month’s winter Olympics looks like a death trap disguised as a hi-tech tea tray.

"It also feels like one if you let the fear get hold of you," Bromley admits. "But the point is not to think about the danger. You just need to let your instinct take over. But there’s also a scientific dimension because a great skeleton ride needs a combination of athleticism and physics, raw courage and meticulous design. For me it’s about pushing yourself as close to the edge as possible, both as a designer and a slider, with the aim of shaving away another few tenths of a second off your time on February 17."

That date, and the men’s skeleton bobsleigh, marks Britain’s best chance of a medal in Turin - there have been only five British winter Olympic golds since the games began in 1924. Bromley, despite choosing to spend the last two years experimenting with his own sledge design and training techniques, is ranked sixth in the current World Cup standings. More pertinently, he will arrive in Turin knowing that the last time he set his mind to winning a title, he demolished his rivals while finishing first in four out of the five events in the 2003-04 World Cup. Bromley was the first British man to win an individual World Cup series on snow or ice. He also obtained an engineering PhD in bob-skeleton design and has planned his attempt to peak again in Turin with scrupulous care. But first, this Friday, in his last appearance before the Olympics, Bromley will return to Alternberg in Germany for the season’s final World Cup race.

Alternberg offers a reminder of how Bromley began his strange career as both a bob-skeleton scientist and a low-flying human missile, at this very track 10 years ago. In 1996, while working as a 23-year-old graduate engineer for British Aerospace, one of Bromley’s projects for the company was the creation of a new sledge for the British Bob Skeleton Association. He was more used to designing aircraft and knew little about the sport when he headed to Alternberg to meet the leading British sliders.

"I turned up with a sled I’d bolted together with bits of metal - and I had no idea it is probably the most difficult track in the world. It’s extremely fast, with heavy ‘g’, and very dangerous. Sportsmen can be quite temperamental and the bob skeleton guys refused to test my design. They said, ‘If you prove to us it’s safe then we’ll get on it.’ I had no choice. I had to test it myself.

"I was very nervous because, earlier that day, I’d watched a lot of novice riders get hurt. So I was scared, for sure, but it was a fear of the unknown. And that’s also why I wanted to do it - I wanted to experience the rush of it. As a kid I was into moto-cross and that helped because, on the bike, I knew that when you were coming round a corner and heading up to a double jump you had to commit to it 100%. You were more likely to hurt yourself if you were tentative.

"So my instinct took over on the skeleton and I actually had quite a good run at Alternberg that first time. By the time I got to the bottom the sport had totally gripped me. I was flabbergasted by the intensity. I was hooked. But the guy following me down had the opposite feeling. It was the worst experience of his life and he swore he’d never get on a sled again. He’d been horrified that there was no way of stopping the skeleton once you were on it."

Bromley makes an eerie clattering and chinking when he evokes the sounds and sights of a skeleton run. "That’s the chattering of the runners on the ice - and on top of that the aerodynamics whizz past your helmet. But that’s more like a muffled roar while the chattering of the ice is a constant upfront noise. The ice comes at you in a white blur but I’ve learnt how to analyze the curves and understand the physics and work out which line of the track is going to be the fastest - if not the safest."

For six years after that cathartic first run Bromley continued working for British Aerospace. "I was on a fast-track program to elevate young engineering talent. The sled work had also got me a lot of media attention and so my profile in the company was high." Yet he was immersed in bob-skeletoning - which, after a 54-year break, had been declared an Olympic sport again at the 2002 Salt Lake City games. "I tried to prepare myself well for those Olympics so I was absolutely gutted when I only finished 13th - way beneath my expectations. That disappointment instilled a burning ambition in me for the 2006 Olympics. Three months later I resigned from British Aerospace.

"I did hear some alarm bells because I was 29 and used to financial security. I was getting towards junior executive level and after Salt Lake they wanted me to work on the joint strike fighter [aircraft] in Texas. It was a great opportunity but I had to commit myself totally to the skeleton."

Bromley snorts when asked if he had little money in those first years of professional sport. "I have little money today! Every month is a battle. I’ve committed myself to living in Bath for five years because of the training facilities at the university - but Bath is almost as expensive as London. My lottery funding and sponsorship helps but I’m not doing a sport where I just travel to Birmingham to sprint down a track. I have to fly to Austria or Canada. It’s very expensive but I’m not doing this for money - which is just as well!"

The relative poverty in which Bromley operates, at least compared to most of his sporting contemporaries, is matched by the paucity of his training facilities. While the University of Bath boasts an impressive sports complex, it obviously cannot be expected to replicate the conditions of an authentic track. "The only thing we’ve got here is a push facility - which allows me to work on my start. Most of my time is spent on sled design and conditioning my body. The only time I get to use a track is when I’m competing. All the other top sliders get to train on real tracks and I just hope my engineering skills can compensate. It’s got worse since winning the World Cup because my rivals are happy if their tracks are closed to me. They’re much more likely to help out the new British sliders than me."

His mastery of the 2003-04 World Cup now feels "almost ridiculously easy. All the engineering details dropped perfectly into place, the training was bang on, and we set the benchmark with such conviction and style I felt it would need something special to push on from there. I knew that all the other top guys would learn from what we’d done and come back stronger than ever. And that’s exactly what’s happened. I’m going to have to be much better in Turin than I was two years ago - and so that’s why so much time has been taken over by designing and testing."

Having finished second out of the sport’s 40 best sliders in his last World Cup outing, two weeks ago in Germany, Bromley’s Olympic plan is looking a little more precise - and yet much will depend on conditions in Turin. "It’s a very difficult new track. Me and Jeff Pain, the world No1 from Canada, both crashed on the same corner the only time we were able to compete on it. We wanted to get speed from the height [of that corner] but ended up hitting the roof and that’s quite unnerving at 80mph. On our next ride we both nailed it perfectly - but that’s the corner which will cause most problems in Turin."

The weather could also be problematic. "I’d like it to be as cold as possible - but I don’t want it to snow because that turns it into a lottery. The sweepers are there between runs and your performance depends on how well they sweep. It’s a sad way to decide four years of preparation."

As a dedicated scientist Bromley has "obviously done a four-year historical study of the weather conditions. push facility - which allows me to work on my start. Most of my time is spent on sled design and conditioning my body. The only time I get to use a track is when I’m competing. All the other top sliders get to train on real tracks and I just hope my engineering skills can compensate. It’s got worse since winning the World Cup because my rivals are happy if their tracks are closed to me. They’re much more likely to help out the new British sliders than me."

His mastery of the 2003-04 World Cup now feels "almost ridiculously easy. All the engineering details dropped perfectly into place, the training was …