Chapter VIII: Part III: Technical (2)

The “Christiania” swing differs materially from the “Telemark” swing in this, that in making it the normal position of the ski is retained, and the turn is effected in the direction of the advanced foot--that is to say, to the right if the right foot is leading, and to the left with the left foot in front. It is easiest on hard snow and on steep hills, where the ski are liable to skid, on which ground the “Telemark” is especially difficult.

The term “Christiania” swing for this movement appears to be a misnomer. For we are assured on very high authority that it was in common use in Telemarken long before the inhabitants of the capital acquired any skill in the art of ski-running. We are inclined to suspect that the name is of Continental origin, for, though we practised the “Christiania” years ago in Norway, we never there heard it called by any other name than “Telemarking.” Be this, however, as it may, the turn in question is a perfectly distinct one, and well deserves a name of its own, and, as it is known all over Switzerland, Germany, and Austria as the “Christiania,” we have not dared to take upon us to alter the name.

Besides being easier in shallow snow and on hillsides than the Telemark, the Christiania is considerably the more rapid swing of the two, and a skilful runner can by means of it stop suddenly when travelling at almost any speed.

Fig. 29 shows the position which the ski usually assume _after a swing to the right is over_, but diagrams are, in describing this turn, of very little value, for the great secret of success is to endeavour to hold the ski in the normal position (see p. 63) throughout.

Here are formal directions for making the swing to the right. To make it to the left all that is necessary is to substitute left for right and right for left throughout.

TO MAKE A “CHRISTIANIA” SWING TO THE RIGHT:--(_a_) hold the ski in the normal position (see p. 63), _press the feet close together_ and distribute the weight evenly on both ski. Bend both knees a little. (_b_) Gently _swing_ the whole body, but especially the region about the hips, round to the right, at the same time leaning in that direction, throwing the weight on to the _heels_ and edging both ski.

You will, when you have mastered the knack of the movement, be astonished how quickly you will come round. The ski will assume the position above shown, and the weight will of itself fall almost entirely on to the right foot. This latter fact accounts, we believe, for the directions commonly given for making this turn--viz., to swing almost entirely on the inner (here the right) foot and to place the ski as shown. This was also the description given in the first edition of this book, but a closer analysis and more experience in teaching have induced us to alter it. We have found that any conscious effort to swing on the right foot and to place the ski in the position shown invariably results in the left ski rushing off at a tangent. To avoid this it is necessary to press the ski tightly together throughout and to _begin_ the turn with the weight evenly distributed on both.

Beginners will find that the great difficulty in this swing is to get it started. It involves a peculiar kind of catch of the back part of the ski in the snow, which is very difficult to explain. Perhaps it will assist you to arrive at the sort of “feel” of the movement if you place a chair in front of you and then (standing before it in the normal position, and without moving the feet) endeavour to sit down on it.

In this turn also the precepts given above as to swinging easily and not jerking, and leaving the lean inwards to take care of itself, apply.

It may also be practised after the manner shown in Fig. 28.

_As a substitute for stemming a little of the swing is very useful for braking when traversing a steep slope._ To practise this select a steep hill and run straight for a short distance obliquely down and across it; then make a little of the swing, reducing the pace; then run straight again; and so on. This is also a very good way of learning the turn itself.

There seems to be no reason why one should not make S turns by means of the “Christiania” swing, though to do so must be rather difficult.

In order to save time in changing the foot, skilful runners when threading their way through a wood (for example) usually make their turns by the “Telemark” for one direction and the “Christiania” for the other.

In the above description we have advised the beginner to learn the “Christiania” swing in the normal position with one foot leading, but it can also be made with the feet perfectly level. We well remember our delight and astonishment on one occasion when we saw a first-class Norwegian runner, after making a 70ft. jump, and when travelling at a great speed, avoid colliding with a friend and two trees by making with wonderful rapidity three “Christiania” swings--left, right, and left.

There are, of course, other ways of combining these various methods of turning which an expert employs quite unconsciously. Indeed, it is highly probable that your Norwegian friends will never even have heard of a “Stemming turn” or a “Christiania swing,” any more than a South Sea islander has heard of a verb or an adjective. This does not, however, prevent the Norwegian from being an expert on ski or the coloured gentleman from being a fluent speaker. Nor has it any bearing on the fact that you as a foreigner will find a grammar of assistance in learning Kanaka. It is our hope that the classification we have adopted may similarly prove of assistance to you in becoming a proficient ski-runner.

JUMPING.

By E. C. RICHARDSON.

So many strange and perverted ideas prevail in England and on the Continent as to what ski-jumping is, that it is, perhaps, excusable to begin by mentioning a few of the things which it is not. To begin with, there are people who think that ski are a sort of seven-league boots on which one may fly across the snow planes as fast as an express train, jumping any minor obstacles, such as houses or trees, which happen to be in the way. This is not so. Four or five miles per hour is very good going on the level, and it is impossible to jump upwards from the level over anything higher than a small gooseberry bush. Again, one frequently hears that Norwegians are born on ski, and jump before they can walk; but, though the writer of this article has made every inquiry, he has, so far, failed to authenticate a single case in point. The truth is that Norwegians of all ages are fond of ski-running and jumping, but, owing to such things as the melting of the snow in summer, extreme youth and old age, business and the like, only a comparatively small number are worthy to be called real experts. Further, it is not the fact that a special exercise place, with an elaborately built take-off, is essential. On most hills it is possible to build, in a few minutes, a jump which will give entertainment both to the skilful and unskilful; and it frequently happens in the course of a tour that a little natural drop presents itself, from which one may skim through the air for several yards before again touching the snow. True that in Norway hills are specially prepared and elaborate takeoffs built, but these are chiefly used for competitions, where long and difficult leaps and spectacular effect are required. It cannot be too strongly insisted that the sport is wholly independent of such things, and that, whilst the jump affords by far the best means of judging the skill of a ski-runner, its enjoyment is by no means dependent on elaborate construction or mere competition.

A successful leap. The jumper’s cap thrown off in flight may be seen behind him.

_Photo by D. M. M. Chrichton Somerville._]

Metres.
Length from start (A) to take off (B) = 82
Length from take-off to bottom of hill = 80
----
Together = 162

Fall from A to B = 23
Fall from B to bottom = 32
----
Together = 55

The steepness of the hill in degrees is marked below the outline.]

Like other great sports, ski-jumping calls forth the qualities of courage, skill, and endurance; a good jumper must have a cool head, a quick eye, and, above all, a nice sense of balance; but, given these things, it is open to all to succeed in some measure, be they old or young, born near the north pole or the equator.

These misapprehensions having been removed, it is expedient to give a detailed description of what ski-jumping really is, detailed instructions following later. Your attention is directed to Fig. 30, p. 87.

This represents the section of an exceptionally suitable hill. The jumper starts from the point A, and slides down to B, where he leaps. The impetus gained from his journey from A to B, coupled with the leap, sends him like a cannon ball through the air to C, where he alights, and continues his course to D. Here he usually stops himself by a Telemark or Christiania swing. The distance from B to C is the measure of the length of the jump, which may be anything up to 134ft. (the record to 1903), according to the condition of the snow; shape, length, and steepness of the hill; and the skill of the performer.[8]

It will be seen from this that the jump is not a jump _up_, but a jump _down_; and it can readily be guessed that the difficulty lies not so much in attaining great length as in retaining an upright position on alighting. It takes considerable practice to make a jump of 10ft. and stand, whilst anybody, provided the hill be sufficiently steep, can jump 100ft. and fall.

Formerly, in Norway, the take-off used to be so placed that the jumper alighted on the level, instead of on the hill side, and, at first sight, such an arrangement might be thought to make matters easier. This is, however, very far from being the case. A jump of anything over a few yards on the level involves a considerable shock on alighting, which is not only unpleasant, but renders “standing” a much more difficult matter, whilst, in the event of a fall, serious injuries may result. On the other hand, a jump downhill is attended by little or no shock on alighting, which makes “standing” much easier, and falling nothing more serious, in the vast majority of cases, than a long roly-poly, broken by the snow.

Assuming, then, that the slope and snow are suitable, the chief requisites to success are a sense of balance and great daring. The bolder, almost rasher, one is, the better. The outlook from the top of a ski-jump of any magnitude is indeed alarming; for note that the slope above the take-off is usually, and properly, less steep than that below; and this means that a man of ordinary stature standing at the point A (see diagram) sees nothing of the slope B C, and his sensations, at least at first, are as of one about to launch himself into a vast abyss. The danger is, however, very largely imaginary, and a bold, coolly-calculated spring vastly increases the chances of standing.

But to proceed from these general remarks to details. The ski used for jumping should be suited to the runner in accordance with the table given (p. 34). It is not easy to jump on ski shorter than this, but they may very well be a trifle longer. They should be rather on the heavy side, so as not to flutter about in the air, and in order to withstand the strain to which they are put on landing.

Any good firm binding may be used which permits of vertical control over the ski.

No other special equipment is necessary.

The best snow for jumping is that which has been down for some days, and which has been trodden by ski into a fairly firm mass. The temperature of the air should be below freezing point. On such a surface the ski will glide swiftly and at an even rate of speed, sinking in about an inch or so--_i.e._, sufficiently to avoid side-slip. Sticky snow is dangerous, for the reason that it is apt to occasion a nasty fall forwards, due to the checking of the ski on alighting. For a similar reason, very deep soft snow is to be avoided, but it should be noted that freshly fallen snow will often cease to stick after it has been trodden down, especially should the temperature of the air be low.

HOW TO SELECT AND PREPARE THE HILL.

As above mentioned, we frequently come across natural jumps when on tour which require little or no preparation. On most hill-sides there are places where sudden little dips occur. Give a kick or two with the ski just below such a dip, so as to make the step (see B, Fig. 30) more pronounced, and scrape together a little snow on the top of it to raise it somewhat. Then with half a minute’s stamping about the spot where you intend to alight your preparations will be complete. Or, again, a stone lying on a steep hill-side may be pressed into service after the manner shown below.

Care must, of course, be taken that the top of the stone be covered with snow. This sort of jump, the point of which turns upwards, is called a _spraet hop_ in Norwegian. It has the effect of throwing the runner high into the air and is excellent practice.

Edges of cornices (not, of course, large, dangerous ones), stumps of trees, buried fences, &c., &c., can often be used for take-offs, and the runner when on tour should keep his eyes open for such, as they cause very amusing variations to ordinary going.

But, though when a little skill has been acquired one should practice on all sorts and kinds of places, it is probably best to begin on something very easy, in order to gain confidence.

Choose, then, a good steep hill with a fair out-run at the bottom. The gradient should be not less than 20 degrees, but if it be steeper, all the better. It is a great mistake to begin on too gentle a slope; a steep hill is far easier and far safer.

If you can find a hill with a little dip in it, well; but, if not, never mind.

First select the place for building your take-off. This will usually be at the edge of the dip, supposing you have found one. If, however, the slope below this point is less than about double the length of jump you contemplate, or, say, 20 yards in all, you must place the take-off somewhat back from the extreme edge, as shown in Fig. 30. But very likely you may not be able to find any suitable hill with a dip in it. Never mind; a smooth hill will do quite as well, or perhaps at first even better. Choose a point on it 20 yards or so above the bottom, and build a long take-off there in the shape shown below.

This is the form of hill on which you should practise for some time. Do not at first let there be too much change between the slope of the take-off and of the hill below, for the greater this difference the more difficult will be the jump.

In choosing a hill it is, of course, desirable to select one as smooth and free from difficulties as possible. In Nature, however, such are seldom to be found, and one generally has to be content with something less perfect. _It is, however, to be noted that smoothness of surface and regularity of snow, whilst everywhere desirable, are of special importance for a distance of ten yards above the spot selected for the take-off, and for about a similar length below the point of alighting._

So, having chosen your hill, stand down it once or twice to ascertain the best lie for the track. Then stamp the snow well down with your ski at the two important places above mentioned, making lanes down them about nine feet broad, and filling up any hollows with good firm snow.

Then construct the take-off.

This may conveniently be done by making a little fence of tree branches to the height of a foot or so, at right angles to the track, and then filling up the space above them with layers of snow and more tree branches placed flat. The structure should be made as firm as possible, especially at the edge, and it should combine with the hill above it, so as not to leave any sudden angle at the join.

Begin with quite a little drop--about 1½ft. should be sufficient--and as soon as you can “stand” over that build higher and higher.

It is not _necessary_ for practice to make a very wide take-off--2ft. or 3ft. should be amply sufficient. And in general do not waste valuable time which might be spent in jumping in building a very elaborate affair.

The case is, of course, quite different if the hill is intended for a competition. In this event too much care cannot be taken to give every competitor an equal chance. Fig. 30 shows an outline of the Solberg jumping hill, near Christiania, which may be taken as an example of what a hill ought to be. The snow on a competition hill should be thoroughly stamped down with ski _some hours before_ the intended jumping. The take-off should be 3 or 4 yards wide, and there should be plenty of men both above and below the take-off armed with rakes to keep the snow in order. The spectators should not be allowed to approach too closely to the track. The illustrations opposite pp. 9 and 87 show how this is arranged in Norway.

HOW TO JUMP.

First study closely the figures in the diagram (Fig. 33), then read the following instructions, referring back from time to time.

Showing position of limbs and body when jumping.

N.B.--Many good ski-runners bring their ski quite level when assuming the crouched position before jumping.

The ski are omitted for the sake of clearness.]

THE APPROACH.

Imagine yourself, then, standing some 20 or 30 yards above the take-off. (The precise distance will, of course, depend on the steepness of the hill and the speed which you wish to attain; but as regards speed do not attempt too much at first; it is difficult, of course, to give an exact measure, but a rate of about 5 yards per second when approaching the edge of the jump should be sufficient to begin with.) See that your ski-fastenings are in order, and polish your ski a little on the snow, or on some fir branches or other twigs, to remove any lumps adhering to the bottom of them. _Be altogether without fear_, and start.

Hold the ski close together, with one of them somewhat in advance--say, with the heel of the one foot about in line with the toe of the other.

About 15 yards or so before reaching the edge of the take-off bend down, leaning a little forward (see Fig. 33). N.B.--About this point many good jumpers bring their feet quite level.

THE SATS.

_Some few yards before reaching the edge swing the body evenly forwards, at the same time straightening up._

This movement is termed the “sats.”

Note particularly that no attempt must be made to _lift_ the feet as in ordinary jumping. The body should be swung evenly forwards, and at the same time straighten up from the crouched to the erect position. The movement, if made vigorously, does, in fact, cause a slight rising from the ground, but it is best not to be too vigorous at first. _Unroll_ yourself, so to speak, with an easy sweep, avoiding all stiffness and jerking.

It may perhaps help you to understand what is meant if you make an _attempt_ to rise on the toes. You should not, indeed, actually rise, but just at first, if you make an effort in that direction, it will probably assist you to arrive at the knack of the thing.

Another very important point is the timing of the movement. The body should be nearly straight just as the take-off is left. Therefore, as the movement itself takes time, the greater the speed at which you are travelling the earlier you must begin. Whilst, on the other hand, the more vigorous the straightening you intend to make the later you can defer it. You are, however, advised to take things easily, especially at first, and to aim rather at accuracy and elegance of style than at mere length. Accordingly it will be necessary for you to begin the straightening movement rather early. Remember when you first learnt to shoot how often the tails of the rabbits and pheasants suffered. For very similar reasons most beginners make the _sats_ too late.

It follows from the above that the object of the _sats_ is two-fold--firstly, to increase the length of the jump, and, secondly, to bring the body into the proper position for alighting. The former is achieved by the straightening movement, and the latter by the swing forward.

“But,” you ask, “why swing forward at all, why not keep quite still?” The reason is that in descending all hills on slippery things like ski the body must be kept quite straight over them--or, in other words, at about right angles to the slope on which they are travelling. This is sufficiently obvious. But observe that in jumping the slope below the take-off is considerably steeper than that above (see p. 93). The body must accordingly be brought forward when passing from one to the other, or a fall backwards will result. And such is, indeed, the common fate of the beginner, whose tendency is invariably to hang back!

Now look at the _spraet hop_, shown in Fig. 31. Here the take-off itself is turned upwards, and the difference between its direction and that of the slope below becomes greater than ever. On such a jump it is especially necessary to swing well forwards, for which reason it is the very best practice, for once one has learnt to do that everything else is easy.

POSITION IN THE AIR.

The whole body should be straight and erect. So do not check the straightening of the knees and thighs if you have not quite finished your spring when you leave the take-off.

You will feel a compelling necessity to wave your arms round and round when in the air. Everybody does so more or less, but, of course, your object should be to be reasonable in this. Frantic waving looks very ugly. Endeavour to keep your ski parallel to the slope below. There is always a tendency for the toes to fly up and the heels to drag, which should be checked as far as possible by pressing down the toes.

ON ALIGHTING.

Slide one foot forwards and the other backwards, relieving any shock by a slight bending of the knees. This extending of the feet is of great assistance in preserving the balance, and with a little practice becomes almost instinctive.

Resume as soon as possible the normal position--_i.e._, ski close together, one foot slightly in advance, body slightly crouched. As soon as possible after reaching the level stop yourself by making a Telemark or Christiania swing.

_Points to be remembered_:--

1. _Don’t be frightened._
2. _Ski close together._
3. _Swing forward, “unroll.”_
4. _Extend ski on alighting._

Pay great attention to your “form,” which is all important, as in rowing. Think of nothing else, and you will soon succeed. At competitions the prize is not necessarily awarded to the competitor who jumps furthest, even if he “stood” after alighting. For if the jump was made in bad style assuredly it was a fluke, and will seldom be repeated. All ski-jumpers fall more or less, but it is equally a matter of surprise if the awkward should “stand,” or the elegant and correct should fail.

* * * * *

The style of jumping above recommended is that known in Norway as the _Svæve_--one swoops motionless through the air. It is certainly the prettiest, as well as the easiest to learn. Another method, however, exists, known as the _Trække op_, in which the leaper draws up his legs during his flight, the object being to cover a longer distance. This, however, however, looks rather ugly (according, at least, to most people’s ideas), and it is questionable whether one comes so much further with it, after all.

_Photo by E. Jeanrenaud._]

But there is yet another point which it is far more difficult to decide. Shall the runner jump with feet perfectly level or shall he advance one of them as shown in Fig. 33? As will be seen from the above description, the writer has not ventured to speak positively as to this. On the one hand he has the authority of one of the Holmenkollen judges for asserting that it is best for the beginner to keep one foot in advance, whilst on the other the general practice of many (if not, indeed, most) first-class performers undoubtedly is to keep the feet quite level. The advocates of the advanced foot contend that extreme steadiness is of vital importance in taking the _sats_, and that, inasmuch as the advanced foot position is admittedly steadier than the other for glissading, it should also be adopted at this stage. In addition to which they argue that, after the flight through the air, when the runner first touches ground the advanced foot is the more stable position of the two. On the other side, those in favour of the “level-footed” style contend:--Firstly, that to jump with one foot forward looks ugly (and the writer is inclined to agree with them in this), and, secondly, that it defeats its own ends, for it involves leaning forward on to one foot, and accordingly jumping chiefly with it. And this (they say) is conducive to a crooked flight through the air. It is not, however, apparent how this is a necessary consequence, for in ordinary long-jumping the spring is taken almost entirely with one leg without the balance being in any way upset.

These are, however, theoretical matters, as to which the reader interested may well be left to work out conclusions for himself, whilst those who do not care for argument can console themselves with the reflection that whichever style they like to adopt they have excellent authority for their choice.

Is it possible that this is another question like that of the bindings and that perhaps it does not matter so very much, after all? Or may not both sides be right? May it not, for example, be best to jump with level feet when the track is smooth and easy, but with one foot forward when it is irregular and difficult? On the Continent rough jumping on tour has hardly yet “caught on,” everything being regarded, so to speak, through competition spectacles. And perhaps this is why the level-footed style is there so much insisted on. He, however, who limits himself to jumping at competitions and on elaborately prepared tracks will never be a really clever ski-runner, and will miss a vast deal of the possibilities and pleasures of this branch of the sport.

SKI MOUNTAINEERING.

By W. R. RICKMERS.

It is quite impossible to define exactly what constitutes mountaineering as apart from strolling and short excursions, but its chief characteristics are distance from human dwellings and human help, and the presence of special dangers. The term “mountaineering” comprises a multitude of rules which teach how to overcome the difficulties and how to avoid the dangers of rising ground. Mountaineering is a science admirably expounded in a series of classical text-books, the result of the experience of thousands of climbers, and the essence of a literature of over 10,000 volumes. From a subjective point of view mountaineering begins when a wanderer, approaching a hill or mountain, is conscious of the fact that he will meet with special conditions which demand a special knowledge. And the minimum required of a man who wishes to be called a “mountaineer,” a good mountain climber, an expert, is that as to the theory he should have “Dent” at his finger-ends (C. T. Dent, Mountaineering, Badminton Library); and as to the practice, he must be a man who can be trusted to attempt any peak in the world without endangering the lives of his companions.

Now, it would be absurd to try to teach mountaineering in a chapter of this book, for it takes ten years at least to make a mountaineer. Still less dare I insult the mountaineer by advising him how to behave in his element, for he will not go high and far until he feels at home on the planks. By the time he has mastered the technicalities of ski-ing, he knows everything about the outfit which suits him best, and about his line of conduct on any expedition he may plan. My remarks on the subject in hand cannot, therefore, be anything but a series of very general reflections and impressions, simply intended as a loud warning to ski-runners that they should study “Alpinism,” and as a gentle reminder to mountaineers, that ski-running is a somewhat tricky complication of their art. Why should I tell the latter what type of ski to take on long tours, seeing that he knows on which kind he travels best; why should he ask me about his ice-axe when he is sure to take one or not according to the object in view?[9]

Ski-runners, unless they are climbing experts, or accompanied by such, must confine themselves to the usual practice-grounds and safe excursions, for only a mountaineer can decide on the spot whether hill craft is necessary or not. To explain how he arrives at this decision would mean a very thick volume. The ski-runner, therefore, who wishes to form a correct opinion of his own should make up his mind to learn from amateurs, guides, and books how to look about, think, and behave when he leaves the beaten track where multitudes are accustomed to go unthinking and unadvised. My random observations are to impress him with that necessity, and for the mountaineer they shall be an epitome of familiar principles.

In the winter the problem of the avalanche eclipses all others. The rule to go only with guides or experienced friends disposes of the general advice respecting glaciers, crevasses, slips, strategy, and discipline, for in these things a man must train himself during many seasons. The rule that only good ski-runners dare aspire towards high peaks saves a long repetition of detail as to outfit.[10] The ski-runner-mountaineer ought always to be a man who, during his apprenticeship, knew something of cold, hunger, slow companions, and broken ski. To have no spare gloves and no provisions, to fall where one ought to stand, to step on a hollow, or to risk a dashing slide, may have merely disagreeable results two miles from home; but the same omissions and commissions can be suicidal, nay, even criminal, when ten miles from the nearest human habitation. If you wish to kill, go alone, and kill yourself, for every party of mountaineers suffers for the thoughtlessness of each of its members, while the greatest skill or ability of one of them is as nothing in the balance of fate when the whole has to bear the inadequacy of the lowest unit.

Extreme suspicion and wariness are the only correct attitude towards the mountains in their winter garb. The number of factors which combine to prepare or prevent an avalanche is truly bewildering, and any single one of them may be the prime mover or the reliable safeguard in a given instance. And this one was perhaps overlooked in weighing the evidence. _The secret of the avalanche is the breaking strain and snapping point of an unseen tension._ Avalanches owe their growth and collapse to some or all of the following indications: The angle of the slope; the surface of the ground; the quantity of the snow; the snow of a month ago, of yesterday, and to-day; the temperature and the wind of a month ago, yesterday, and today, while the snow fell, or before it fell, or after it had fallen. And to consummate or prevent the catastrophy there are, in conjunction with the above, the temperature at the time of our arrival on the spot, the weight of the party, its methods of walking or ski-ing, and sundry other accidents. So many possibilities produce tantalising doubt rather than definite conviction, and more often than not a slope, which presents all the visible elements of danger, may be perfectly harmless. On the other hand, well-known guides have walked into mouse-traps because one exceptional condition had altered the internal character of a particular slope which, throughout their lives, they had known as perfectly safe. A strong sense of human weakness is therefore the proper frame of mind towards the mysterious and overwhelming power of the snow.

The mountaineer must condense the theory of avalanches into a few comprehensive rules of thumb, and when in doubt he must give the benefit to himself and not to the avalanche.

SUSPICIOUS.--Every open slope of about 25 deg. or steeper, and _all new snow in warm weather_. A thaw after a heavy fall of snow is the most common cause of the thick and heavy slides known as ground avalanches.

DANGEROUS.--Every heavy accumulation of snow at an angle of 40 deg. or more, on long open slopes, and in gullies. At lesser angles all snow which lies on a hard and smooth surface (grass, earth, old snow, crust, ice, &c.). Hard snow under the lee of ridges. This is liable to crack and to become suddenly transformed into what looks like a huge waterfall of lumps of sugar. Therefore, one ought to cross such slopes as high up as possible. The cornice which overhangs the ridge is more dangerous to those who walk _on_ it than to those _under_ it.

SAFE.--All slopes under 25 deg; all slopes evenly dotted with trees or rocks; almost every perfectly homogeneous snow not deeper than 2ft. which lies on a rough surface (screes, &c.).

More cannot be said without conjuring up a flood of detail. This experience and acquired instinct must fill in. The tourist can find almost daily an opportunity of making experiments on a small scale, though he should not forget that a cubic yard of snow can dislocate his arm or break his leg.

As an instance, showing the effect of surface, I may mention that, in the Alpine spring, the grass slopes send down in huge avalanches the solid layer accumulated and consolidated during the winter. At the same time the firm, wet snow of exactly the same texture which lies on screes remains perfectly safe, and affords splendid ski-ing. It never slips off, but gradually melts, evaporates, and vanishes as the summer draws near.

The only exact method of dealing with avalanches would be to make “avalanche maps” of popular centres. In these maps the slopes and gullies which are always bad are coloured, let us say, red. A blue slope would be dangerous under such and such conditions; a green slope becomes threatening in the spring, &c. On these maps all those expeditions should be marked which can be guaranteed as safe.

The fear of the avalanche must always be before the ski-runner’s conscience. All the rest is a matter of well-defined dogma, of strict attention to well-known precautions, which belong to the routine of every mountaineer deserving of the name.

(1) Never go alone; three is the minimum.

(2) One man at least must be an Alpine climber of experience.

(3) All members of the party must be equal in skill.

These three commandments are the essence. Let a few comments suffice.

(1) The solitary mountaineer is a fool. This is an article of faith. Permissible exceptions are rare.

(2) The experienced leader will tell his friends all about the crevasses, outfit, provisions, the importance of an early start, the duty of keeping together, and the courage to turn back before the approach of the night or bad weather. He will ask if everyone has his goggles, spare gloves, provisions, snow-helmets, repairing tools. He will take from everyone the promise to be strictly obeyed.

(3) This is a necessary complement to 1 and 2. Ten stumblers of equal proficiency are a good party, for they will generally get as far as they deserve. Nine good men and one stumbler are bad, for they will probably make that one poor man feel worse than he is.

On long tours only persons can go who do not fall when they have the will not to fall. He is not a fit companion for difficult expeditions who is not sure that he can keep on his feet throughout the day. A mountaineer never has a spill unless he forgets himself, his companions, or his surroundings.

NOTE.--In our experience by far the commonest form of winter
avalanche occurs when a ski-runner crosses (or some other
influence disturbs) a long steep slope of _freshly-fallen_
snow. The weight of the runner is the last straw which causes
the slenderly coherent mass to snap. It does so with a curious
report, something like the cracking of thick ice on a frozen
lake. Below the dividing line, which may be half a mile long,
the snow slides off the hill-side much as it slides off the roof
of a house, forming itself into thick slabs like paving stones
which accumulate one on top of the other, and which ultimately
overwhelm the runner. The snow usually breaks only a short
distance above the runner, and consequently, in the event of an
accident, search should first be made in that part of the mass
which is highest up the hill.

Freshly-fallen snow is accordingly quite the most serious danger
of ski-running, and, inasmuch as it usually affords but poor
going, it is seldom worth while venturing far on very steep
ground after a recent fall. After a few days of fine weather,
however, the snow settles down, the avalanches run off, and
what remains becomes firmer and more crystalline in structure.
Under the pressure of its own weight, and owing to the peculiar
property of _regelation_ which solid water possesses, the new
fall attaches itself to the old crusts, and the conditions
become, comparatively speaking, safe.

It is a common saying amongst the Swiss that it is unsafe to
venture above the tree-line, as long as any snow is left clinging
to the trees on the sunny side of the valleys. This rough test we
have found to be a very useful one.--ED.

Ski in foreground at a height of 20,000 feet.

_Photo by Dr. Guillarmod._]

ODDS AND ENDS.

BY E. C. RICHARDSON.

ANTIDOTES TO “STICKING” AND AIDS TO CLIMBING.

In warm weather snow is apt to stick to the bottom of the ski (see page 22). It accumulates there in large watery clods, and renders progress very slow and laborious. Under such circumstances the advice commonly given is not to go out at all, and unless there is a prospect of better things, either in the shade or higher up, it is certainly best to stop at home. Nevertheless, the boundary line between sticking and not sticking is an extremely narrow one, and, moreover, one is not always sitting comfortably indoors when the trouble begins. It is therefore important to consider what is to be done to avoid or cure it.

* * * * *

=Waxing the ski= is the simplest plan, and proves effective in the great majority of cases. It is true that with waxed ski hill-climbing may become a matter of considerable difficulty, for the wax is apt to carry matters too far, and to make the surface unduly slippery. But anything is better than carrying all that dead weight of snow, and by using only a little wax under the foot (where the sticking chiefly occurs), by choosing an easy gradient, and by side stepping, &c., one can generally manage to get along somehow.

Various kinds of wax are sold for this purpose, and all are more or less efficacious. There is, however, a difficulty with the solid kinds in inducing them to “bite” when the ski are cold and wet, and the writer prefers the semi-liquid variety sold in tubes. A tube of wax, plus its attendant piece of rag, takes up very little room in the pocket or rucksack, and its weight is in no way commensurate with that of the lumps of snow which it is not infrequently its office to prevent.

* * * * *

=Sealskin.=--From time immemorial seal’s (or elk’s) skin has been attached to the bottom of the ski. The hairs, set towards the heel serve the double purpose of preventing the ski slipping backwards, and of keeping the surface free from sticky snow. Until quite recently it has been usual to fix the skin permanently; but whilst this works fairly well for certain purposes, it is open to many objections. The hair is a very serious impediment, both down-hill and on the level, for it not only reduces the speed, but, owing to its inherent “wobbliness,” it renders steering and balancing much more difficult. Then, again, the hair soon wears out, a day of hard snow being sufficient to quite spoil it; or it tears, or, being wet, the weather turns colder and it freezes solid. But perhaps the most serious objection of all is the nasty _feeling_ of a skin-clad ski. There is a certain cleanness and crispness about the movement of the plain wood through the snow which one learns to love, and which one sorely misses. Besides which there is much art in getting up-hill to the best advantage on uncovered ski, and this keeps one’s mind busy, and greatly alleviates the labours of the climb; whereas with the skin any duffer can get along, and climbing becomes pure drudgery. It is, however, certain that, given a long and steep ascent where much zig-zagging is necessary, or even an only moderately steep slope and hard snow, one can with the skin arrive far more quickly and easily at the top than without it. It will, therefore, either when attached permanently or when detachable as about to be described, be found to be of great value for long and arduous mountain tours on steep Alpine ground. But even in the Alps, under all ordinary circumstances, where ski-running, and not the ascent of any particularly difficult summit, is the object in view, and where it is of no consequence whether one arrives an hour sooner or later, there is no sense in encumbering oneself with unnecessary gear and spoiling the pleasant “feel” of the bare ash.

On undulating ground, where one can usually go straight up and down hill (as in most parts of Norway), nobody nowadays dreams of using skin in any shape or form.

* * * * *

=Detachable Sealskin= is quite a recent invention, and is vastly preferable to the fixed article. For it can be used for a long climb, and removed when the summit is reached.

Thus a strip of the material mounted on webbing can be attached to the bottom of the ski by means of a loop over the point, a strap at the heel end, and a few transverse straps. But the plan is open to the objection that the skin is apt to slip about sideways, and that the fixing of it is troublesome, and takes time.

The latest method of fixing is that invented by Messrs. Sohm and Madlener, and is highly recommended by those who have tried it. But it involves boring two holes through each ski--an unpardonable sacrilege in the eyes of some people. Surely, however, if we are going to commit the outrage of using sealskin at all we may just as well be hanged for a sheep as for a lamb, and bore holes or do anything else which may assist us in our fell (joke!) design.

* * * * *

=The detachable skin of Herren Sohm and Madlener= is sewn on to stout webbing, and is only about half as long as the ski themselves. It is attached to the ski immediately in front of the foot, and reaches from there to the back end. The arrangements for fixing it are extremely ingenious, and permit of its being attached or removed with great rapidity. The photographs and drawings (p. 108) show exactly what they are.

A hole is bored in the ski just in front of the binding; and another about halfway between it and the heel end of the ski. Through each of these holes a bolt passes, the bottom of which is shaped like a flat sort of button. The bolt sticks up through the ski; and it is threaded and fitted with a wing-nut. (See Fig. _a_.) When not required the button is screwed by means of the wing-nut into a recess cut for its reception in the bottom of the ski.

The front part of the skin is buttoned to the front bolt, the middle part to the second bolt, whilst the heel end has a strap sewn on to it by means of which the whole is first stretched perfectly taut, and then secured by passing the strap round the heel of the ski, and fixing it to a catch on the top of the ski. The strap is fitted with eye-holes, and the catch is of the simple, but ingenious construction shown in Fig. _b_, and in the photos.

The front part of the skin, of course, requires protection. This is afforded by soldering two pieces of sheet brass together so as to form a sharp tent-shaped =V=.

(_a_) Bolt with button and wing-nut. Two are needed for each ski.

(_b_) Catch for securing strap leading from back end of skin. The
photos showing catch half open and shut.

(_c_) Lower side of front edge of skin, showing sharp brass
entrance.

(_d_) Upper side of front edge of skin, showing button-hole on
brass entrance.

(_e_) Lower side of middle of skin, showing rivets for
button-hole. There should be six rivets instead of only four, as
shown.

(_f_) Upper side of middle of skin, showing button-hole.

The measurements, when not otherwise stated, are in millimètres.]

The skin, mounted on its webbing, is placed between the jaws of the =V= which are then closed and secured by a couple of copper rivets. (See Figs. _c_ and _d_.) The “button-holes” on the skin are not, of course, of the ordinary kind. The front one is shown in Fig. _d_. The second one in Fig. _f_.

The front “button-hole” is cut out of the upper part of the tent-shaped brass =V= as shown in Fig. _d_.

The second “button-hole” (Fig. _f_) allows the button to slide backwards and forwards in it so as to permit of the skin being pulled quite taut. This “button-hole” is made by simply cutting a hole and slot in another piece of sheet brass, and attaching it to the skin by means of rivets. (See Figs. _e_ and _f_.) N.B.--Only four rivets are shown in this drawing, but probably it is better to make the slot a little longer and to add another rivet at each side.

In fitting this kind of detachable skin to a pair of ordinary ski, it is probably best to fill up the customary groove cut in the bottom of the ski. The ski will then be devoted exclusively to steep mountain work where it is in any case advantageous to dispense with the groove. (See page 33.) If, however, it is desired to retain the groove it will be advisable to make the button holes extra strong, or else to make them up so as to fit close against the wood.

It will be observed (as was mentioned above) that the skin only covers about half the under surface of the ski. To prevent snow sticking to the uncovered part in warm weather, a liberal coating of wax may be applied, or else (as Herr Sohm advises) the whole of the bottom of the ski may be painted with smooth and hard enamel. This gives a very fast surface for running on, and of course no slipping back need be feared when walking up-hill with the skin attached.

* * * * *

=Climbing Irons.=--Herr Sohm recommends the use of climbing irons invented by him in combination with his detachable skin. The object of the irons is to prevent slipping on very steep icy slopes. The writer has had no experience of these, and, as criticism without practical knowledge is seldom of much value, he prefers to leave the reader to try them or leave them alone, just as he pleases. This much may, however, be safely assumed that these appliances (like the skin itself) can only be of value to the skilled ski mountaineer desirous of making long and difficult excursions in the high Alps. They are (as Herr Sohm himself insists) quite unnecessary on ordinary ground, and are certainly not for the beginner.

The measurements are in millimètres. See also the photos, page 108.]

The climbing irons are made of some strong metal unaffected by rust, and their shape and the method of fixing them in conjunction with the skin is shown clearly in the accompanying diagrams.

* * * * *

=Tying a piece of rope to the bottom of the ski= is resorted to by some in order to help them to get up-hill. The writer has, however, never found this to be of much use. It is true that if plenty of rope is used, and if it is properly fixed (no easy matter by the way), it largely obviates slipping back; but it also seriously hinders slipping forwards, and necessitates a lifting or heavy dragging of the ski at every step. Snow is very apt to stick to the rope, and of course no glissading with it is possible. The net loss seems therefore to be greater than the gain, though possibly there may be occasions when the reader may find something of the sort useful. The plan has at least the merit of cheapness.

_Photo by H. Abel._]

* * * * *

=Dipping part of the ski into water= is also recommended by some in order to help climbing, the idea being to form a lump of ice on the bottom, which may be removed when the summit is reached. But this, too, is open to much the same objections as the rope, and is scarcely worth while. If it is to be adopted, it is well to be provided with a metal paper-knife, or something of the kind, to scrape off the ice, and, incidentally, it may be here mentioned that some sort of scraping appliance will always be found useful; for cleaning one’s ski with the stick or an ordinary knife takes a long time, besides being apt to injure both the wood and the blade.

COMMON FAULTS AND FAILINGS

(Mostly dealt with already, but repeated here to impress the beginner).

I.--KIT.

(1) Too heavy clothes. Woolly clothes. Have light, wind-proof,
smooth materials.

(2) Tight boots with thin soles. Have large strong boots which
won’t pinch the toes, even with three pairs of socks on, and
which won’t buckle in the middle of the sole.

(3) Ski brittle, of bad shape, or of great weight. Get some one
who knows good ski to choose for you, or, if this is impossible,
send to a good maker for his best.

(4) Too short gloves. Have long gloves to draw over the sleeves
of your coat.

II.--CONDITION OF THE SNOW.

(1) Abusing the snow. The better the ski-runner the less he
complains, and _vice versâ_. Notice how the good men manage.

(2) Continuing a tour when danger may be expected. Only
greenhorns and fools do so. Turn back, and try another day.

(3) Waxing ski when snow is _just_ binding. Best not. The slight
clinging will help you up, and won’t interfere seriously with the
run. Probably, too, it will be colder higher up.

III.--TECHNIQUE.

(1) Short waddling steps on the level. Lean forward. Slide.

(2) Can’t get up hill. Raise front of ski and stamp. Don’t go too
steeply. Go slowly, but keep at it.

(3) Rushing up in front of others when on tour. Don’t show off.
Probably you are one of the worst of the party; in any case, you
are only annoying the others.

(4) Side stepping, ski cross. Raise heel of lower ski. (See p.
60.)

(5) Can’t start down hill. Be quick about it, and then you can.

(6) Legs apart and feet level. Keep legs close together and one
foot forward.

(7) Leaning back on stick. Practise without one.