Chapter VII: Ice and Snow Craft (4)

In a mist or at night, on glaciers, or on snow slopes where there is reason to suspect the neighbourhood of rocks, it is possible to keep direction, and to discover towards which side of a slope or glacier our march is tending, by shouting, and calculating our position by the time it takes for the echo to return from the rock on either side. Across smooth slopes a very small and remote obstruction will give echo to our appeal.

On open snow slopes where there are no retaining walls, the best method is to have the full length of the rope out, and put a man with the compass at the rear end to correct the leader’s line. If a compass is lacking--if it can ever be lacking in the mountains!--the man far behind is still in the better position to judge, by the pointer of the rope, whether the line is being maintained or is inclining either way.

If a return in mist over the same ground is expected, the tracks should be made intentionally deep, in order to reinforce the line against the sun’s action, which may be all the more rapid when the light is diffused through such mist. The axe should be driven deeply into the snow at short intervals, so as to leave marks which may last longer than footprints; and this especially on hard snow.

On rocks or snow in mist, and even with less excuse on clear days, some other-land climbers adopt the device of marking the line of return at important points of divergence by squares of red paper fixed under stones. In emergency these can be of service; but they are unsightly, and their frequent use encourages climbers to pay insufficient attention to a very important part of their work--which is to note and record in memory the details of a route against the time of their return. A climber who has to find the return line on difficult rock or glacier, or on any climb that winds by devious ways, should never omit at all points of divergence or of salient indication to turn round and note how the passage or kink looks from the opposite direction; which is generally very different from its aspect on the approach. Distant views are often confused and absurdly distorted by mist; but details close at hand, for whose memorizing alone red paper could be a substitute, are seldom sufficiently obscured not to be recognizable by a trained observation and memory. Only in two cases--one, the rare event of an expedition over fog-bound snow being continued with the intention of return over the same line; and two, equally singular, the case of a party, which contains only one mountaineer capable of leading the return route, attempting in mist a climb whose difficulty will necessitate the expert going last on the descent--would the use of red paper seem to be justified. Waste paper is inelegant, and makes an unimpressive substitute for hill craft. But mist is a subtle enemy on glaciers, and we may sympathize with folk who meet it by tricks when they happen to have brought a box of them with them.

[Sidenote: The Sense of Direction.]

In the end, and behind all memory and observation, we have to fall back upon that useful but mysterious faculty, the sense of direction. Its existence is often denied, especially by men who do not possess it, and its workings are attributed to powers of observation, to unconscious memorizing and to reasoning. But no one who has mountaineered or travelled much in uncharted ground with men of very divergent or very similar powers of sight or experience will be found to discredit its positive but entirely accidental possession. Irrespective of sight and independently of the presence of any other respectable mental faculties, some men are found to possess it and some not; and no experience or study will ever equalize the capacity of those who cannot with that of those who can exercise it in dealing with misty conditions or unknown country. Men who have it only in a slight degree frequently impair its fidelity by training their observation and memory. By taking thought we can nearly always confuse it, in ourselves or in our neighbour; and this fact has especially to be borne in mind in dealing with less educated brains, such as those of guides, where its working is unconscious when it exists at all. A pertinent question or reminder may often set them, or ourselves, thinking or doubting, and lead to hesitation or wandering where a moment before confident movement reigned.

If we have once made certain that a guide or even a younger or less experienced climber possesses it, we may accept its leading thankfully in moments of doubt, although its counsel may contradict our own reasoning or conscientious observation.

Those who do not possess the instinct, and those who possess it only in a small degree, will find it almost impossible in thick mist on featureless snow to avoid the inclination to turn in a circle, generally to the left. In mist, with the most resolute intentions, it is at times even difficult to correct the inclination, by allowing for the stronger thrust of the right foot (or whichever may be the leading foot in our own case) and by taking the axe in the opposite hand to that foot; or by discovering and allowing for our exact amount of bias. The compass is the only secure guide for the ungifted.

Some men have the sense in the form of an ability to keep a straight line once set, no matter what the obstruction or obscurity; others in the form of knowing their position in relation to any near or distant point they have previously visited. With a few the sense is polarized; they ‘feel’ the north. My own sense indicates only direction between points already visited. Although making all allowance for the leading foot, and conscious that as leader I was being kept to a straight line by the compass in the hand of my last man, I have myself in thick mist on level snow, after forty-five minutes of what was actually straight marching, felt positive that I had led the party through one complete and one half-circle to the right, so strong was the instinct to turn to the left in spite of all precaution and prevision. On the other hand, I have watched a man who had been brought round from Hammersmith to South Kensington by Underground on his first visit to London, and set to the task without previous warning, take and keep, in thick fog, the most direct line back again through the maze of cross streets; which he could not be said to be seeing for the first time, as they remained invisible. A singular case was that of a high Wrangler, a mountaineer, whose sense of direction was acute, but inverted: it indicated points precisely opposed to the correct ones. Once we had discovered this, and allowed for the idiosyncrasy, we made frequent use of his otherwise very exact sense. For those who may have interested themselves in the faculty, I will add that this friend similarly produced or wrote down the results of all mental calculations with the figures in the reverse order.

GLISSADING

Glissading is an art that rewards the skilful. For the inexpert, though the pleasure in its prospect never dies, the actual performance is more often productive of aching shins and wet clothes, than of birdlike exhilaration. Until ski-ing came in to complement it, and we may say to improve upon it, glissading gave its artists their nearest approximation to the sensation of flying. Its physical thrill is very little less intense than that of flying on machines through the air, because the exciting vibration of the feet over the solid surface provokes a lively consciousness of pace and motion disproportionate to the actual rate usually attained.

But it has never been widely recognized that the art has to be learned. Very little has been written about it, and much of that little has been fundamentally wrong. All men glissade in a sort of way, as a kind of amusing frolic, with tumbles forming an integral part of the fun, like the periodic shrieks of the ladies on the Earl’s Court roundabouts. But men who know how to glissade, and how to use its opportunities as a real auxiliary to their mountain progress, have always been the exceptions. Guides are seldom able exponents. More than a dozen fatal accidents are directly traceable to bad glissading.

Fortunately, the greater popularity of ski-ing has come to the rescue, and its more general practice should have prepared both the minds and feet of a much larger number for a more serious treatment of their mountaineering glissading. A man who can ski is half-way to becoming a good glissader. A good glissader, once the first surprise of the ski feeling is overcome, finds many of the simpler ski motions familiar.

In learning to glissade, a man has three points of normal contact which he must learn to control: his two feet, and the shaft-point of his axe. There is also a fourth point of possible contact, with which I deal separately under sitting glissades. The head of the axe, except in one very rare case, is useless for contact, and should never be brought into play. In fact, during the time of learning,--and to learn properly will take as long as has to be devoted to the beginnings of ski-ing,--it is better to use only a stick with a single point, or a ski-stick. The axe head during the preliminary falls is apt to point too keen a moral.

A certain school of icemen, the devotees of the short axe, keep the axe head always sheathed in its leathern cover. In glissading the practice has distinct advantages: it preserves the keenness of the edge, protects the climber, and is far warmer to grasp. Those who learn to glissade with an axe and not a stick may well copy the practice. This suggestion applies to learning both on snow and on glacier.

ON ICE

Glissading on ice is practically confined to short rushes on glaciers; even there it is generally avoidable, but its mastery adds a delightful possibility of directness and pace to the late returns down ice falls.

No sane man will ever start a glissade on ice on a mountain side, unless the slope is evidently short and is seen to end in safe arresting snow, or in the earth deposits found on Himalayan glaciers. The sheer pace and rude vibration produce helplessness and, soon, unconsciousness on a steep ice slide of any great length. Control cannot be maintained for more than a brief period of inevitable acceleration. Often, however, quick bands of ice intrude, visibly or not, on a steep snow glissade, and it is then important to be able to make the new adjustments required by ice; and so avoid being thrown out of balance by the sudden alterations in the quality of the surface flashing under our feet.

[Sidenote: Positions.]

In ice-glissading the point of the axe takes practically all the weight. It is essentially axe riding. The feet become only props to the balance. Ice is rarely quite smooth, and, if the weight is at all on the feet, the slightest irregularity or ‘stick’ in the surface at this high rate of speed throws the heels back and over the head. The right hand grasps the shaft, just sufficiently far from where the point touches the ice to avoid scraping the knuckles. The left hand grips the head. The more the left hand forces the head up, and the greater the weight that we throw upon the right hand holding the shaft, the sharper is the brake upon the pace, and, incidentally, the more prepared is our balance against an accidental trip.

On hard ice the feet cannot be used to brake; nor, except by very gradual movements, can they attempt to steer. Their business is to carry their small proportion of the weight as lightly as possible over the irregular surface, and, like the front wheel of a bicycle, to prevent a forward or sideways fall. On rotten ice, if claws are worn, braking with the feet is possible by driving in the heels; but such surfaces are unusual in the Alps.

The knees must be well bent, with the body bowed almost into a sitting position, so as to keep the centre of gravity well down upon the supporting tripod of legs and axe. The zigzag spring, formed by the curves of knees and body, absorbs most of the jar. The soles rest flat on the ice, with the toes pointing down the slope. The feet should be kept slightly apart, for the better balance over roughnesses. To avoid obvious lumps they can be slid more apart or brought together. If they are used to steer at all, they must both be pointed sideways in the desired direction; but no attempt can be made to drive in the edges of the boot, as is done on snow. This would merely result in a fall. Steering, in this position, must be left to the gradual friction of the soles inclined sideways and downwards, and, in the main, to the swing of the weight on the axe.

On very rough ice, or on the rough icy surfaces found in snow couloirs, where we cannot make certain of keeping on the feet if we face squarely forward, it is best to adopt a sideways position of the body, the sides of both feet in contact with the slope, and one foot just below and slightly separated from the other. The distance between the feet must depend upon the character of the surface and the angle of the slope. On an easy angle of rough slope, where it is desired to go slowly and stop at any sudden point, the lower foot, with the knee only slightly bent, can be thrust well ahead, taking somewhat more of the weight, and acting as a shifting brake. On steep, rough ice, or wherever it is desired to increase the pace, and at the same time to protect the balance, the feet, still in the sideways position, should be kept close together, while the knees and thighs are drawn up into a crouching attitude. The weight, of course, still rests mainly on the axe.

On steep, rough slopes of snow and ice alternating, where the balance is easily upset by the changing surface, this squatting or crouching sideways position must always be adopted, with the heels slightly apart and brought right up under the body, which practically sits upon them. The centre of gravity is then well down upon the three points of contact, which are all in firm and close relation to one another, and the balance is steady. Ice-glissading is possible for the expert, in this position, on many long ice intrusions where ordinary folk have to creep carefully down in steps. For a beginner, the under faces of the great ice hummocks below the falls on dry glaciers give the best practice, as their length and angle can be selected. Since near the crest these concave faces are often vertical or overhanging, early practice should be limited to their lower curves.

As in ski-ing, the start-off from the rim of an ice slope or from the crest of an ice wave is the most difficult moment. We cannot jump into our glissade as we can upon snow, or at least only on ice of very mild angles. The right position is to start in a ‘crouch,’ with the toes just over and the heels just holding the ice edge; the weight is then thrown back upon the axe, the toes turn down and the legs shoot out. As soon as the balance in motion is secured, the forward, the sideways position or the crouch, is assumed according to the feel of the surface and the angle.

On very steep dry ice, for the first body length or so at the start of a slide over a vertical or overhanging crest, be it on a glacier or at the top of an ice couloir, it is sometimes necessary, in order to remain in contact with the concave surface at all, and not to be flung out head foremost by the kick of the axe point against the ice, to leave the ‘crouch’ the instant the feet are launched, and to shoot out the legs to their full extent. The whole length of the body is then held rigid, with the feet pressed as much as possible sideways and flat against the ice. In such a position there is considerable risk of cutting knuckles or other surfaces against the ice. The position is, of course, only required for a second or so, as no glissade may be attempted where the angle does not ease off sufficiently after a few feet to allow of continuing the descent in one of the normal attitudes of controlled glissading.

The fortunate will sometimes find an admirable surface on the more easily inclined planes of lower dry glaciers, where melting and freezing have followed one another during the day. The ice is so slippery that it is only possible to walk with maddening dislocations, and it is generally too level for a long glissade. It is then often feasible to adopt a ski-ing or skating stride, and strike out with either foot alternately. On a good surface and angle one may find oneself travelling in this way almost as easily as on skates. Similarly, on the wet lower ends of afternoon glaciers, if rubber-soled shoes happen to have been brought, it is worth while putting them on. One can drift down on them as lightly as on ski.

[Sidenote: Arrests.]

If the balance is once lost upon ice, and there is no prospect of an early arrest on a softer surface lower down, it is best to turn on the back, keep the head and hands off the ice, and force the point of the shaft back under the arm-pit and into the ice, so that the weight dragging on the shaft may gradually arrest the progress. The body must be kept head upwards; the legs, if slightly apart and rigid, will help to check the pace by friction and by the rugosities encountered by the heels.

If in such case the ice slope has been badly chosen, and the fallen glissader perceives that the only hope of avoiding a fall over rock is to stop the slide at all hazards, the risk must be taken of turning over on the face. The head of the axe must then be gripped with both hands, so that the adze-blade rests just over the right shoulder, and the pick-point is ground into the ice with the whole weight. It is useless to attempt to force in the pick if the axe is held only by the shaft, or at the stretch of the arms above the head. The axe at arm’s length will be torn from the hands the moment the pick touches the ice.

These two methods of arrest can also be turned to account in checking falls on steep and hard snow, or snow with a crusted or icy surface.

ON SNOW

Even more on snow do the positions for glissading vary with the angle and consistency of the surface. The expert glissader changes from one attitude to another, as the feel of his feet on the changing surface suggests, without loss of balance or even a check to the pace.

[Sidenote: Positions.]

The axe should be grasped as for ice-glissading. The knees should be bent, slightly or more according as the surface is slow or fast, forming a convenient arch of balance for the body. The bent leg acts as a strong spring to absorb jolts, and it is more quickly and powerfully adjustable to the changing demands of balance, when the body is in rapid motion, than the straight leg. To keep the knees straight is impracticable on all but perfectly uniform ‘show’ snow slopes. Those who have at times advised it have been influenced by some pictorial ideal which had small regard for the mechanism of the body or for the conditions of the glissade in action.

The body should not be bent forward or crouched, as is done in ice-glissading, but held upright or inclined slightly backward, so as to form a continuous and concordant arc with whatever may be the curve of the leg at the moment. The lower end of this curve will always be bent more sharply at the flex of the knee; but in proportion as the knee is more or less bent, the graceful inclination backward from the hips will vary correspondingly.

The shoulders, especially that above the hand on the shaft, should be braced well back, and the head inclined a little forward, for better sight. The tendency to let the shoulders stoop forward and the body sag downward into a sitting position has to be resisted on snow surfaces. It is a false position, that follows inevitably on an attempt to keep the knees straight; and it is as bad a beginner’s error as the inclination to sit forward and not back when learning to jump on horseback. The fact that it has been suggested as the ideal attitude, both in description and in illustration, may have been responsible for the large number of mountaineers who have never become more than ‘axe riders’ in snow-glissading. Sagging and axe riding are necessary in ice-glissading, where we do not attempt to balance on the feet, but depend for safety and steering upon the axe brake. On snow the good glissader aims at reducing friction and riding by balance. To sag or use the straight knee throws us back upon the axe for balance and for our steering. Straightened knees mean the weight on the heels and the toes up; but if the weight is more on the heels than on the toes, steering with the feet is impossible.

The feet should be kept close together, with the toes pointing down the slope, so as to reduce friction and facilitate foot-steering. If the surface for a space gets icier and rougher, the feet are allowed to separate slightly, so as to secure the balance on their wider base and brake the pace by the angle that the two outward-pointing toes make with the direct line of descent.

On good snow surfaces to draw the feet slowly or sharply together, so as to grip up a snow wrinkle between them, or to thrust them apart, with the toes slightly turned inwards, produces each a different degree of brake, or helps to reconfirm our balance, if we require it.

Small interruptions on the surface should be allowed to pass between the feet. In practical glissading, in fact, the feet are very rarely kept long in one position; they drift gently about, as balance or the surface demand.

The decision as to when they should be kept exactly parallel to one another, with the weight evenly distributed between the two, or when the one should travel slightly in advance, carrying the larger share of weight for the moment, must depend upon the snow surface and angle, and on the amount of work that is being done, in consequence, by the axe. If the surface is roughish and steep or hard, the weight will be more, and for longer periods, thrown back upon the axe shaft, and this for reasons of balance. So supported on the axe, there is not the same risk on a bad surface of our being suddenly pitched outward, head foremost. In such case the feet are best kept parallel and together, acting as supports supplementary to the axe, as upon ice. But if the surface is straightforward in angle and quality there is less threat to the balance, and our object is to reduce the surface friction and increase the pace. To this end all the weight will be brought forward off the axe and kept in balance above the feet. The axe will only be lightly or occasionally in contact with the slope. The body will be sailing down upright, but on a curve of balance agreeing with the bend of the knees. The feet, in this case, adopt a position and a motion familiar in ski-ing. They remain close together, but one foot travels slightly in advance of the other, carrying for the moment the greater share of the weight. The other foot runs in close support. It is brought up, and in turn passes into the lead, according as ease of balance, steering, or need of rest for the employed leg suggest. The balance sways lightly from one leg to the other as each is employed, and the motion, allowing for the different length of stroke, is not unlike the smooth steady running in long-distance skating. At any second, if the surface demands it, the weight can be thrown back upon the axe, and the feet are then brought parallel again.

Now that ski-ing experience is familiar, it is unnecessary to explain why glissading on one foot--that is, on a single line of contact, with the other foot and axe in partial support and ready to take their turn if required--is easier, quicker and less exposed to accident than moving on the two feet parallel, with the weight distributed evenly between them. The instance of the relative pace and security of bicycle and tricycle, although not quite on all fours, gives us a suggestive comparison.

On an obviously good and continuous snow slope the axe brake can be removed altogether, and the axe is then carried easily in front across the body, ready at any moment to be shot back under the arm into the snow. The body then sways to the balance, above the slight bend of the knees, and is practically upright. This is the most delightful of all positions: there is no tension upon any of the body muscles, and the sensation is that of a winged swoop. To brandish the axe at arm’s length over the head, a fashion affected by performers of a theatrical type more familiar in illustrations than on the mountains, adds nothing to the pleasure and diminishes the security. The balance above the feet is prejudiced, and the axe recovery in case of need is slower.

[Sidenote: Steering.]

The steering is done, as in skating or ski-ing, firstly, by canting the feet and twisting the toes in the required direction; and secondly, by swinging the weight of the body into the new position above them, either by means of the sway of balance if we are glissading free, or by the thrust from the axe point if we are axe riding. For instance, if we wish to turn to the right, in order to avoid an obstacle or make a zigzag on a slope too steep for comfortable direct descent, we twist the toes to the right, and at the same time cant the feet in the same direction; that is, we press down the right-hand edge of both boots into the snow, gently or hard according as we wish to make a sharp or an easy turn. If we wish to accelerate the turn, we bring the axe into use, pressing back upon the point, which we thrust into the snow slightly on our right. Similarly, to make a turn to the left, we twist the toes and cant the feet to the left, and, if required, press on the axe transferred to our left side.

By making all three movements energetically at the same moment it is possible to execute very sharp turns. The steeper the slope the higher the speed, and the higher the speed the more acute the angle of turn possible.

If a glissader is expert enough to be able to descend steep slopes in balance on his feet alone, without the axe as brake, and has mastered the finer art of travelling upon alternating feet, he can steer his turns also without the axe, and can descend on a succession of sharp zigzags without the small awkwardness involved in transferring the axe from one side to the other of his body. When he wishes to turn to the right out of a direct descent, he sways his balance on to his right foot, directs and cants it, and as he turns brings across his less weighted left foot into line again below it. When he wishes to turn back again to the left out of a zig to the right, he throws his weight on to his heels, as in a ski-ing turn, directs and cants his feet to the left, sways his weight over on to the left foot again, and so continues on the new zag. In travelling on the one-foot method, sharp turns are made by throwing the weight on to both heels; gradual turns can be made on the one foot. Slight changes of direction, not big enough to be turns, are more quickly made by bringing up the rear and less weighted foot, sliding it in front into the new direction required, and then swaying the weight across on to it.

An expert can thus swing quickly and safely down a slope or couloir too steep for direct descent, zigzagging from side to side almost without help from the axe. His turns are less crisp than those of ski or skates; but he can descend on a snow ribbon or in a narrow couloir, where only short boots could find room to travel or turn.

Even if a glissader has only accustomed himself to descend travelling on his two feet parallel, with his weight evenly distributed between them, he can still make slight changes of direction, without help from the axe, by sliding one foot in front of the other. This will deflect his course correspondingly in the opposite direction: that is, to turn to the right, he brings forward the left foot; to turn to the left, he advances the right. But his turns without the axe will never be effective or sharp until he has learned to glissade mainly on one foot. The second foot, for a one-foot glissader, acts as a free auxiliary to indicate the new direction and to support the turning movement, while the body swings in easy support from one foot to the other, as the turn suggests.

[Sidenote: Jumping.]

The hands alone should never be used as rudders. Supposing we wish completely and suddenly to change the line of descent, because we see some obstruction below, or discover better snow farther off, this is best done by a half-turn, and a spring on to the free leg. For instance, to get across to our left we swing our free right foot across us to the left until it touches the snow again at its utmost reach. The weight is then flung across on to it by means of the axe, or by a rub with the outside of our left arm against the snow. The left leg follows (all without checking the descent), and we descend on the new line, or swing the right leg again if a second spring is needed. To make these changes of line, a sideways jump across, off the one travelling foot and alighting on the two feet held sideways and slightly apart, is a neater method, but it requires more practice.

Jumping, sideways or downward, is as pleasant a refinement in glissading as it is on ski, and very generally useful. It is often more convenient to jump interruptions, of ice blocks, rock bands and snow humps, than to steer round them. A good glissader jumps off either foot, and alights on both. Even large crevasses can be safely jumped by a skilful man, with a great saving of the time usually spent in circumventing them. But this requires considerable skill and a discreet eye in selecting the take-off. The edges of bergschrunds are generally hidden or rotten, and the crouch and spring have to be made well ahead of possible breakages. The glissader has no hand-made wall to guide him and to dispatch him on his jump at the right instant, angle and velocity; and the angle of the slope below has not been chosen to accord with his curve of descent on to it, and down it.

If we fall, after a jump or stumble, the first thing, on a steep slope, is to stop any tendency to roll, which is the shortest road to unconsciousness. The next is to get the head up. Then, if we have held on to the axe, we get it by the head and begin to brake, as described above. If the axe is lost, we do the same with elbows and heels, sliding on our back; but never with fingers and toes, face downwards.

[Sidenote: Brakes.]

There are two methods of stopping or braking, the axe brake and the foot brake, which are used in conjunction for purposes of sudden arrest.

The axe brake is made by pulling the head of the axe upward with the one hand, and forcing the shaft point down, and into the snow, with the other. The weight of the body is thrown on to the lower arm, and the thighs are brought close against the axe shaft. If it is necessary to make a sudden stop on a hard snow surface where one is being ‘run away with,’ the most powerful brake of all is to bring the shaft of the axe under the right arm-pit, grip the left hand on the head, with the right hand close to it, and turn the body slightly sideways, so that the whole edge of each boot, heel and toe, scrapes against the surface.

The foot brake is made by turning the toes up and shoving the heels in and down into the snow, at the same time straightening the legs. If the surface is too hard to admit the heels easily, or the pace and hard surface combined threaten that an attempt to check with the straight heels will mean one or both legs being torn up underneath the body, so flinging us out and off our balance, the feet must be turned sideways to the slope. The heels at the same instant are thrust downwards, the legs are straightened, and the weight is thrown equally upon the axe shaft and upon the feet.

On any surface where a glissade is justifiable it is possible to stop with these combined brakes within a distance of a few feet, provided that, as with a motor-car, they are not jammed on so suddenly as to upset the equilibrium and detach the points of contact from the surface.

For gentle checks to pace, touching at intervals with the axe point, or pressing on one or both heels momentarily, is sufficient.

[Sidenote: Sitting.]

Practically no snow slope of right consistency and termination is too steep to glissade down; but many incline at too low an angle, or are of too soft a surface, to glissade down in a standing position.

So long as we are young and thoughtless, and place the enthusiastic memories of youthful tobogganing before the after-discomfort of wet clothing,--a youth which in the case of mountaineers appears to extend well on into the sixties,--we hail such soft slopes as the recovered opportunity of recalling a lost ideal; and we descend them sitting-wise.

For sitting, the methods of guiding and braking with the axe and the feet are much the same as for standing; only they are more clumsy and proportionately less effective, as the slope also is less exacting. The axe is held under the arm, in the same manner, to brake, and is transferred from side to side to steer.

The foot steering is performed by obstructing with one heel or the other. For a sharper turn, the legs are lifted and swung across in the desired direction. To avoid rolling over in a quick turn like this, the body leans over on the side towards which the turn is made, and the weight is thrown inward and back upon the axe. The whole length of the outside of the leg and thigh contributes to the steering action, as an equivalent for the canting of the feet in a standing turn. Leg and thigh thus supplement the ineffective guidance of the heels. The movement checks the pace usefully, for the snow will begin to hummock under the thighs and up under the jacket, whereas before it was merely percolating through the breeches.

In descending direct the legs are kept together, and the body is converted into as rigid a reproduction of a torpedo as the incidents of descent permit. To accelerate the pace the body can be thrown back and held stiff, which takes off the brake made by the curves of the back and distributes the weight, as on a sleigh or ski. This movement adds the neck to the other potential snow orifices.

On unwilling slopes, punting with the axe and a swimming motion of the legs can be resorted to, for propulsion; but the effort is not dignified. Shooting, or ‘chuting,’ head-foremost has an exuberant appearance, but does not add materially to the chances of pace.

Braking is done upon easy slopes by opening the legs, and allowing a triangle of travelling snow to pack between them. To brake sharply, the axe point is driven into the snow under the arm, the body is arched stiffly upward clear of the slope on the support of the axe, and the heels are driven down and in, close together.

For standing glissading, if the surface is good, we generally each choose a line of virgin snow. Pace will come of itself, and is not so important as uniformity of surface. But in sitting glissading the first to descend has the worst place. He has to make a clearer and harder track for the rest. If a trough of this kind is once formed, it will be most polished in its exact centre; and men are well advised to turn slightly upon one thigh and shoot down upon their longest but narrowest available body-surface.

A very pleasant method of descending, as a party, is to form a fashion of bob-sleigh, each man sitting close behind the man in front and having his legs held up by him clear of the slope. The most is thus made of the collective weight and the least of the collective body-surface necessarily in contact with the snow. The best situation is towards the rear of the human sleigh. The man at the head will collect most of the snow pack, and there will be only the usual moist permeations to be enjoyed by the tail.

The first man descending on an unknown slope after fresh snow, or on the occasional snow patch found at lower levels, should always make careful examination to see that there are not rock or stones near enough to the surface to inconvenience, if not injure, his descent.

Sitting glissading is useful not only on snow too soft or too easily inclined for standing, but also upon surfaces where a crust has formed over soft snow, through which the feet break under any attempt to glissade standing. On snow of this character both steering and stopping are even more difficult than they are in ordinary sitting glissading, since any attempt to drive in the heels suddenly may result in a head-over-heels fling. On such a surface it is best to lie as flat and stiff as possible, and avoid making any abrupt local movements.

The sitting glissade has been already mentioned as of use in crossing schrunds with awkward-angled or dubitable bridges. Each man before he shoots for the bridge should make certain that he leaves enough free rope and good sense behind him to allow him to come to rest on the far side without a disruptive or a premature jerk.

[Sidenote: Stone Tests.]

It is always wise, before glissading on a slope of uncertain consistency, to throw a few large stones on to the snow to test the surface. They should be as heavy as possible, so as to ascertain the weight at which the snow will avalanche. The practice has the further advantage, on a slope whose termination we can see, and where, therefore, a slight avalanche quality in the snow need not deter us from glissading, of clearing away all the deciduous snow from at least one line of descent. There is left a smooth, harder track whereon a human being can descend comparatively dry. At the best, the stones may start a general avalanche, and so leave a safe and clean slope where we can choose our line. Incidentally, the stone track serves to discover the presence or absence of concealed stones or of rock points uncomfortably near the surface.

[Sidenote: The Rope.]

To remain roped is impossible in ice-glissading, and is a nuisance in snow-glissading. The rope should never be necessary where there is any long and comfortable glissade in safe prospect. Pace and real foot-running are impossible on the rope. Its use enforces axe braking and slow-coach running at even distances, so that the rope shall neither tighten upon the front man and upset his balance nor entangle in loose coils about his feet. Every one in a roped party, however expert, must be axe braking, and wearying his shin muscles, if no more, in the vain effort to keep an even distance over surfaces of quickly varying quality and angle.

For the men in the middle of a rope, to be thus glissading is simple weariness of the flesh. On short glissades, during long climbs, the rope may have to be retained to save time, but on slopes of any length it is always worth while to unrope. If the rope has to be retained on such slopes for precautionary reasons, because the end of the slope is not in sight or because there are beginners taking part, the party should rope in pairs. Two experts can glissade fairly freely on a rope by descending on adjacent parallel lines with the rope loosely across between them. They have only then to see that it does not catch on excrescences which they themselves are avoiding. In the same choric fashion an expert can glissade alone with a beginner, protecting him and accommodating himself to his uneven descent. He follows beside or slightly behind, and is at liberty to quicken up, overtake, and even get secure anchorage in time, if he sees his companion beginning to descend the slope in other fashion than on his feet. In glissading with a beginner on a rope the pace should never be allowed to become greater than one is absolutely certain of being able to regulate, not only for oneself but for one’s companion, with plenty of margin for accidents. Once a man has been jerked off his balance, it is far harder for him to stop himself and his companion by the travelling axe brake, on a steep slope, than when he is stationary and upright with his heels well in. He must therefore keep the pace well within the speed limits.

The higher refinements of glissading, the zigzag and the free sailing on one or both feet, are of course out of the question for more than two on the rope; and barely feasible for them.

[Sidenote: Some Variations.]

There are a few occasions where exceptional varieties of glissading may be found of use.

[Sidenote: Alternate Glissading.]

In descending snow slopes of doubtful consistency, or slopes or couloirs whose lower end is concealed, and therefore an object of suspicion for free glissading, an alternate slide and anchor method can often be adopted. It is especially good for protecting beginners who cannot be relied upon to arrest their glissade at any given instant. The experienced man anchors firmly in the snow with the rope round his driven axe. The front man then glissades down until he is arrested by the rope or a call from the rear. The rear man follows, and glissades either down to him or past him, stopping himself in the latter case, if he is wise, before the rope runs out. _If_ he is wise, because no inexperienced man can be relied upon to know what security of anchorage is required to resist the jerk of a man running out a double length of rope on steep snow. The first man then, in turn, glissades past, and is stopped by the expert with the rope. The process can be repeated until the bottom of the slope is reached, or the secure termination of a freer glissade is ascertained. The method is a good time-saver, especially in steep couloirs, but it must be worked with all caution. I tried it on one occasion with a mountaineer of confident self-security, and after sailing past him, and becoming certain that my rope must have run out, I turned round, to see him head-foremost after me down the slope. He had been twitched from his stance without so much as a perceptible check to my rope. Since then I always, in alternate glissading, turn face inward when I feel the rope is near its end, and stop myself,--for the first few ‘runs-out’ at least, until I know I can depend on my second. With a beginner it is best to stop, as last man, when one reaches him. With a good second it is enough to arrange with him that each shall call out sharply to the man glissading some three yards or so before the rope runs out, leaving him time to stop himself.

[Sidenote: Face Inward.]

Any man who wants to get all he can out of the opportunities to glissade must be able to travel in every reasonable attitude, and to change from one position to another at any instant without check or loss of control in the movement. The axe is the transitional support during all movements involving sudden or marked alteration of balance. As a convenient variety it is useful to be able to glissade face inward toward the snow. On slopes of doubtful termination, and in couloirs more especially, where it proves impossible to discover if there may not be some ‘cut-off’ below, or where the quality of the snow, and perhaps the presence of ice beneath it, make caution imperative, a more controlled, watchful and restful descent can be made with the face towards the slope. The axe head is then gripped under the arm with the pick caught behind the shoulder. The two hands are firm on the shaft in front, ready to shove the point into the snow. The legs are slightly apart, with the feet parallel and the toes inclined upward. The descent can be stopped in an instant by pressing on the axe shaft, and by forcing the toes outward and downward, so that the inside edges of the boots scrape downward against the surface. On rough icy surfaces, in order to allow us to look round, and also to prevent the toes catching and throwing the body outward, it is sometimes even safer to bend one leg up, so that the flat of the one sole rests against the slope at about the level of the knee of the lower straighter leg. The body then lies forward over this bent leg as on a firm spring, with the centre of gravity low and the balance secure. The head is freer to turn and prospect above or below. A foot brake of extra power and rapidity can be made by scraping the upper, raised foot downward along the slope with the whole force of the body--a sort of stopping kick. For hurrying the descent of awkward couloirs where the glissade of short stretches may have to be stopped within inches, I have usually preferred this face-inward glissade. In this position we not only can stop, but steer with great precision and power; and in a very confined space, as in a narrow couloir, we can side-step or side-jump easily. To jump obstacles or crevasses when glissading face inward, we must of course turn round first; but a good glissader should find no difficulty in twisting round, especially out of the last position described, with the one leg raised, which is in itself already a half-turn attitude.

The position has the additional advantage of allowing us to watch companions above; and, in suspicious couloirs, to keep a look out for their loosened stones or small following avalanches. Stones can be dodged once they are seen; and a fine face-inward glissader, whenever he sees the small, wavering, pursuing avalanche, looks round and ahead for some lower bay of shelter in the walls of the couloir, and, if need be quickening his pace, steers out of its way into safety at the edge.

[Sidenote: Plunging.]

In couloirs or on slopes faced with soft sticky snow, too soft or too gradual for a free glissade, it is often possible to save a long trudge of descent by using the ‘plunging’ step. A few long springing steps, driving the heels hard along the surface, will start a small surface snow slide, and upon this we can ride down, until it again packs, when the plunges are again repeated. If the snow joins in the game too heartily, and there is a risk of losing control and of being swept down in a cumulative avalanche, we use the swinging cross-step to the edge of the wave, and jump clear. When the avalanche has passed there may be a fine surface left for normal glissading.

On every slope where we begin to feel that the travelling mass of accompanying snow is getting beyond control, the glissader must be ready to swing-step or to jump clear of it on one side or the other. When it is past, he has also to look out for the not infrequent chance of the furtive slides which will pursue the first. If two men are glissading on a rope, the upper will be in the best position to decide when the mass is growing too big, and he must give timely warning to his companion before he jumps clear himself.

[Sidenote: On Claws.]

In couloirs of a certain type, where there is a thin covering of fresh snow over ice, or where snow has partially melted into ice glaze over rock, I have occasionally found light claws a great help to safe glissading. The angle may be too steep, and the snow upon ice too bad to allow of a prospect of descent without prolonged, deep step-cutting or slow ambling on our prehensile claws. A pair of light claws that one has no fear of blunting may then be found of great service to save time and labour. Glissading lightly and slowly on the feet, side-crouching as upon ice, or still better face inward, the claws slip down with the surface snow. Where the snow is thin, they scrape through on to the ice and retard the pace; where it thickens, they can still be forced through by throwing more of the weight off the axe on to the feet; and the descent, with the fitful brake of the axe, remains perfectly controlled.

As before noted, claws of the long-pointed pattern can be used in the same fashion on rotten ice.

On hard, smooth ice at high angles, claws of the light type are often safer than nailed boots. A good position for such claw-glissading is one of those familiar in ski-ing. We sit astride of the axe shaft with the point against the ice. We can then throw the weight back upon the shaft, and brake, while we release the feet to steer, or we can let the weight forward on to the feet and increase the pace. Either or both feet can be relieved of the share of weight if anything threatens to catch them and upset the balance.

This axe-riding position is occasionally convenient in icy couloirs, or on fresh snow, where only an absolutely slow and controlled glissade would be safe.

It can also be made use of on very rough surfaces, on dry glaciers or practice ice slopes, without the extra security of claws and trusting to the boot-nails alone. But on nails alone the glissade is proportionately less regulated, and we are more dependent upon the axe for control and braking.

ON OTHER GROUNDS

Many surfaces other than ice or snow give us good practice and pleasurable moments. Volcanic ash is said to provide the finest conceivable flying footing. Sand of sea-cliffs or quarries, and even the mud shoots of the east-coast cliffs, give excellent fun; but the most common, and perhaps the most admirable sub-alpine surface is a light, steep scree slope.

[Sidenote: On Scree.]

Our method of descending these shoots is dictated by the size of the stones composing them. When they are of shale, or light enough to slide away under our weight, we need only straighten the leg, stiffen the ankle, incline the body slightly forward from the hips, and start with a long leaping stride, forcing the heels well down and in. Small scree, at a good angle, will carry us on and down of itself. The axe is held in the same way as on snow, and is only used for balance touches.