Ellefsen’s Patent Binding (Fig. 10) is of the same class. It appeared last season (1904-5), and has scarcely been in use long enough to allow of exhaustive criticism.

As with Torgersen’s, the belting only reaches about half-way down the foot, where it is terminated by an iron cross-piece with upright cheeks fitting on either side of the heel (see Fig. 10). From these cheeks a strap leads round the back of the heel, by means of which the belting is pulled tight. This stretching of the belting is the novelty of the arrangement, and is very ingenious, as, of course, it prevents all buckling. The iron toe-pieces are much the same as in Huitfeld, but they are fixed firmly to the ski by means of the little metal tongues which are part of them. The tongues at the same time secure the driving belt under the toe, giving it due stiffness in a vertical direction and preventing pressure of the toe strap. But obviously this is the weak spot of the front part of the arrangement, and unless the belting is of the very best quality it is liable to tear there. The makers, however, claim that the best belting will not tear, and time alone can decide whether this is so or not. The binding is not readily adjustable, and when ordering it is necessary to send a sketch of the boot which one intends to use with it.

The Lilienfeld Binding has caused more discussion and provoked more criticism than any other. It, too, is on the “sole” principle, but differs from all others in this respect, that (except for the heel and toe straps) it is made entirely of metal.

The vertical axis of the sole is, moreover, placed in front of the toe, and not under it as in other fastenings, and vertical stiffness is secured by means of a very ingenious spring arrangement embedded in the ski. This shifting of the axis forward makes the binding feel curious at first, but one gets accustomed to it after a while, and then it becomes very comfortable and pleasant. An objection to the plan is, however, that one is deprived of much control over the heel of the ski, and is placed, so to speak, at the mercy of the spring. It is, however, often convenient to raise the heel of the ski when going up hill, and it is annoying to find when one tries to do so that it refuses to obey on account of the spring being insufficiently screwed up. On the other hand, if the spring be tight the heel keeps “clappering” up and down at every step. Another decidedly bad point about this fastening is its weight. It is unquestionably heavy. It is necessary, therefore, to use a considerably lighter ski with it than with any of the ordinary arrangements, and light ski are apt to be brittle. It is, however, a very powerful binding, very suitable for making “S” turns on steep and difficult ground. It seldom or never breaks, and it is adjustable to almost any boot. It is usually sold fitted to a special ski with a hole in it cut for the spring. The so-called “Alpine skee” is shortish, broadish, and flat-bottomed, with a sharply turned-up bluff entrance. These qualities render it less suitable for straight running, but useful for turning on the mountain-side, for which special purpose it is, indeed, designed. People somewhat advanced in years will find the “Alpine skee,” with its special fastening, of value for mountain tours, and it is, we think, easier to learn to turn on it than on any other; but your dashing youth and your jumper will certainly prefer the Norwegian article. Of course, the Lilienfeld fastening can be fixed to a Telemark ski.

Method of Fixing.

The right way of attaching all the above-named bindings to the boot will have been evident from the descriptions appended to each. It is sufficient to observe here that the straps (and particularly the toe-straps) should never be pulled tighter than occasion demands. Tight straps are the surest road to frost-bite, besides being very uncomfortable. For all ordinary going—that is to say, during far the greater length of time that the ski are on the feet—the straps may be worn comparatively loose. It is quite easy to tighten them up for a difficult piece of ground or a jump, and there is no occasion to run unnecessary risks.

Another important matter is that with all ordinary bindings care should be taken not to thrust the foot too far into the toe-strap. The toe-strap should never cross the foot lower than the middle of the great toe. People are apt to neglect this simple precaution, but in doing so they run the risk of spraining the foot in the event of a fall forwards. In the case of the Lilienfeld binding, it is not necessary to be quite so careful, as with it the vertical axis is in front of the foot.

Conclusion.

The beginner who has read the above remarks probably realises by now that there is no such thing as a perfect ski binding which will satisfy everybody! Some people want extreme lateral rigidity, others a little play, and others, again, comparative looseness. It is much the same with the vertical movement; if very stiff there is great control, valuable for jumping and for lifting the heel in steep hill climbing, but the ski “clappers” on the level. If very loose, the toe has to carry too much weight,6 and the advantages of stiffness vanish. There can really be no such thing as a happy mean in these matters, and everybody must choose that which on the whole is best suited to his requirements. Nor can any form of fastening last for ever, and the most that one can expect is that a binding should not be continually giving way. Do not, therefore, begin by worrying yourself too much about this part of your equipment. Buy one or other of the bindings depicted above which you think will suit you best, and learn all about its little peculiarities and something about ski-running before you decide that it is no good. Above all things, avoid boring your more experienced friends with binding talk, of which they have all had enough and to spare.

FOOT-PLATES.

In order to protect the ski and to prevent snow adhering to it under the foot it is necessary to fix some sort of anti-sticking material to that part which is touched by the boot; and a thin plate of some non-corrosive metal is best for this purpose; the india-rubber or seal’s skin commonly sold are of little use, and soon wear out.

THE STICK.

The stick is a good servant, but a bad master. It is little used by first-class runners, except to enable them to increase the speed by punting. There can, however, be no doubt that it greatly assists a beginner in preserving his balance on difficult ground and in turning. On the other hand, it is equally certain that it is frequently the cause of his adopting a bad style, of spoiling his balance, and of hindering or entirely blocking his progress in the art of turning. To jump with a stick in the hand is most dangerous, and, of course, there is always the possibility of the stick being lost or broken on tour.

Accordingly there are those who recommend the beginner to leave this part of his outfit at home; and much is to be said in favour of such advice, especially in the case of a young and active pupil. When, however, it is argued that anybody who can go on ski without a stick will not have any difficulty in subsequently taking to one, we venture to differ. Perhaps in rare cases it may be so, but we have had a somewhat extensive experience of beginners of all ages, and we have always found it otherwise. The novice who has learnt without a stick seems to be greatly embarrassed when one is first placed in his hand. Moreover, we have met not a few ski-runners, no longer novices, who make very pretty Telemark and Christiania swings on the practice ground with hands free, but who break down hopelessly on tour when encumbered with a stick. But everybody is agreed that a stick of some sort or other should be taken on tour, and we fail to see the use of these pretty manoeuvres if they cannot be accomplished when really most required. This, however, is far from being the whole case for the pole. What is your poor elderly friend to do when he tumbles in deep snow? It frequently requires considerable activity to get up under such circumstances, and what is here mentioned half in jest might really be an ugly matter. Besides, nobody over twenty-five can be expected to enjoy continual struggling head downwards. People get exhausted, people begin to think that it is impossible to learn, and people take to some inferior sport which they find easier, and therefore more amusing. Did you mutter “Let them go”? Nay; but there we touch the very root of the matter. Is ski-running merely a pretty form of athletics for the few, or is it a noble sport for the people, leading them forth from stuffy houses and narrow roads to the glories of the winter landscape? Surely the latter; and we would rather the runner sat on his pole at every hill and visited the woods and mountains than that he was the cleverest performer on the practice ground and went nowhere else. “But,” it is said, “if the beginner accustoms himself to run with a stick in his hand he will be quite helpless when he loses it or breaks it, or when he wishes to jump.” This is, of course, to some extent true, but the case is not so bad as all that. In reality, as above hinted, it is a good deal easier to run without a stick than with one after a certain stage has been reached; our experience is that the more advanced pupil soon learns to appreciate this, and that the transition from stick to no stick is seldom difficult. Besides, there is no reason to carry matters to extremes and never to practise with the arms free.

Our advice, then, is:—Begin by carrying a stick in the hand, but use it only to overcome a difficulty. Endeavour to be as independent of it as possible, and practise sometimes without it.

Shall the ski-runner use two sticks or one? and shall it or they be furnished with a basket arrangement at the end (see Fig. 12)? These are questions which have also been much discussed, and frequently rather unprofitably. We think that it all depends on circumstances. Two light bamboos with wicker-work discs (Norwegian Trindser) at the end are very serviceable when one has got beyond the beginner’s stage. They help one up hill and along the level, and down hill they may be trailed behind in each hand, or on difficult ground held together and used as one. The discs are, of course, intended to prevent the point penetrating the snow to too great a depth—not to act as brakes. But on very steep and hard mountain sides where one may find oneself—sometimes with a precipice below—they are far from being a source of comfort. On such occasions one prefers to have a single stout staff, which one can thrust deeply into the snow, and which one knows will not slip or break. And in general we have not found two sticks to be of much service in the high Alps, though for lower excursions in Switzerland and in the Black Forest and everywhere in Norway we prefer them. The novice, however, should, we think, begin with a simple staff of good ash or other strong wood, without any disc at the end. He is sure to require to use his stick to some extent (indeed, we shall advise him lower down to do so), and he would probably only break light double sticks. He should get into the habit of holding his stick in either hand, and should begin to practise with two as soon as he thinks he is far enough advanced to do so. In choosing his stick he will select one about as long as from the ground to the top of his shoulder. It should be furnished with a metal ferrule and a spike at the lower end, and a broad leather loop at the top for the hand.

The double bamboo sticks should also be about as long as from the ground to the shoulder. They are best out from the root end of the plant, where it is strongest; the root also serves as a convenient lump for the hand to hold. The discs are best attached by a metal arrangement, as shown in Fig. 12, and not by boring a hole in the cane and passing a piece of leather through it, as is common in Norway. The one method holds for a long time; the other breaks very soon.

FOOTGEAR.

This is a very important part of a ski-runner’s outfit, and too much attention cannot be paid to it. Nevertheless, nothing is commoner in Switzerland than to see the early efforts of beginners enormously handicapped by unsuitable boots. English ladies, particularly, seem to find it difficult to make up their minds to spend the necessary amount of money on a suitable pair, and usually appear in thin, high-heeled shoes covered by “gouties.” But the acme of thoughtlessness was in our experience achieved by a man who went out in patent-leather boots and openwork silk socks! The consequences were, of course, frost-bite, and he narrowly escaped losing a few toes.

A strongly made, waterproof, low-heeled boot is a necessity, and with most modern bindings the sole should be not less than half an inch thick. It should be roomy enough to permit of at least three pairs of extra thick socks being worn, and there should be plenty of room for the toes to “waggle.” With bindings such as Huitfeldt’s it is better not to have the toe cut too square, for a more or less wedge-shaped end fits better into the toe-irons. In order to resist the pressure of the toe-strap it is best to have the leather extra thick in front. The boot should fit fairly tightly round the ankle and instep, for reasonable firmness at this point does not interfere with the circulation, and is of value in preventing sprained ankles and chafed heels. With Ellefsen’s binding, where there are no straps across that part of the foot, this is of special importance. Nothing is gained by wearing a sloppy sort of boot and subsequently imprisoning the foot in tight and narrow straps. The strain of moving the ski has to be borne somewhere, and it is best to distribute it evenly where it is least felt. In order to prevent the heel straps slipping down it is strongly advisable with all the bindings mentioned above (except the Lilienfeld) to have a small strong strap and buckle sewn to the heel of the boots. The buckle should point upwards, and should be fixed quite close. The end of the strap then points downwards, and is useful as a sort of shoehorn for pulling on the binding.

For Switzerland we would advise the addition of a few nails to the sole of the boot. They prevent any slipping about on icy places round the house, and they make all the difference to one’s happiness in climbing on foot over a pass, or the last few yards of some rocky and icy summit. They are not, however, to be recommended in Norway, where nobody wears them. Not but what there is plenty of ice round the hotels and sanatoria there, but in that country custom is everything, and it is better to bear with a bump or two than to offend.

In the Black Forest ski boots are often made of dog or calf skin, with the hair left on outside. An inner coating of hair is often added, but this we think is a mistake, as it is difficult to dry after use. The exterior coating of hair is, however, a great protection against cold. It wears out in course of time, and then the thing to do is to follow the classical example of the King of the Jews and buy another pair.

Arctic explorers and others who go to very cold places are unanimous as to the virtues of outside hair, and various devices exist to enable the runner to fix a covering of it over his ordinary boots. These inventions are, however, apt to be too bulky, or to fill up with snow, or to be cut by a nailed boot, and we cannot recommend any we have seen. A very simple plan is, however, to nail a piece of skin (or canvas-covered felt) to the ski in front of the foot, and to pass it between the toe-strap and the boot. It should be wide enough and long enough to cover the toes, but not, of course, so wide as to project and act as a brake. This little dodge helps to keep the toes warm, not only by the extra covering which it affords, but also by distributing the pressure of the toe-strap over a greater surface; it also to some extent prevents snow collecting under the toes and forming an uncomfortable lump there.

Boots should be greased now and again, but in moderation, for excessive greasing is said to cause cold feet. The boots should be warmed (with hot water or otherwise) before the grease is applied. Castor oil is excellent for this purpose.

The best kind of socks to wear are very thick ones made of goat’s hair; but nowadays they are difficult to get. In Norway so-called “Ragge Sokker” are no longer made of pure material, and the modern imitation is harsh and uncomfortable. Thick woollen socks known as “Ladder” are now largely used, and a pair of these over a good ordinary sock are sufficient for most purposes. It is, however, always advisable to take a dry pair in one’s rucksack, for, however waterproof one’s boots may be, a considerable amount of moisture always accumulates inside them. This is due to the condensation of perspiration against the cold outer surface of the boot, and is most dangerous in very cold weather, when the leather freezes and its pores are choked by ice. When this occurs the toe-straps should be loosed and the toes should be kept moving. Frost-bite is very insidious, and is frequently quite unnoticed by the sufferer till he reaches home and it is too late. The consequences may be very serious, and it is impossible to be too much on one’s guard.

From the above it will be seen that there is plenty of room for improvement in the ski-runner’s footgear. We recommend a thick under-sock, a pair of good “Ladder,” a stout boot, fitting well about the ankle, but with plenty of room at the toes, and a piece of skin covering the toes and held in position by the toe strap. But, all the same, we frequently suffer from cold feet, and we wish somebody would invent something better.

OTHER CLOTHES.

Other clothes are of minor importance. Remember that the season and the snow are cold, that the latter melts, that the exercise is at times very violent, and then you are not likely to try wading trousers or an umbrella. The best clothes for ski-runners are, perhaps, knickerbockers and a double-breasted jacket. Choose a material of smooth texture, for woolly stuffs catch the snow, which soon forms into icy lumps, betraying the novice and melting unpleasantly in a warm room. All openings at the neck, sleeves, knees, and ankles must have an arrangement to fit closely to keep out the snow, which is apt to find its way in, especially in the earlier stages of practice. Let the cap, or soft felt hat, be provided with flaps, to protect the ears in a sharp breeze. The so-called St. Moritz cap is excellently adapted to the purpose. Thick woollen gloves, long enough to reach high above the wrist, are indispensable, and a second pair ought to be in the pocket as a change, for wet gloves in a cold wind are the surest road to frost-bite. Puttees are probably the best means to shut the top of the boot and to cover the stockings. Some sort of wind-jacket is necessary in the Norwegian mountains and elsewhere where strong winds prevail. A capital one is in use in Austria. It is made of very thin oil-silk in the form of a sort of smock-frock, with a hood at the back for the head. It weighs almost nothing, and is warmer than any sweater. With this and a pair of trousers of the same material one may laugh at the most biting wind that ever blew, and the dangers of a night out become greatly minimised.

ACCESSORIES.

The RÜcksack—Norwegian RypesÆk—came originally from the Tyrol, and is by far the best means of carrying things. It should be made of stout waterproof canvas, and should be provided with broad shoulder-straps. We advise the novice to buy as good a one as he can afford; he will find it useful for other things besides ski-running.

Smoked Glasses, or some such device as that recommended below, will generally have to be worn above the tree-line to protect the eyes from snow-blindness. The precise nature of this complaint does not appear to be understood. It appears to be more prevalent in some countries than in others, and is not, we think, entirely a matter of intensity of light. It seems, for example, to be more dangerous in the Norwegian mountains than in Switzerland. Like frost-bite, it is insidious, and the patient frequently is not seriously inconvenienced till after the damage is done. Some people, too, are far more susceptible to it than others. Instead of smoked glass, which is liable to become dimmed by the condensation upon it of moisture, we prefer a simple oblong piece of leather, 6in. long and about 1in. broad, with two oval-shaped holes in it opposite the eyes, say, ½in. long by ?in. broad; a slit for the nose to hold it in position, and two pieces of string to bind it round the head.

The Water-bottle should be of sufficient capacity; one to hold about a litre is convenient. It should be provided with a felt covering and a tight-fitting cork. What to put into it is a matter of choice, though much alcohol is not to be recommended. Personally we have given up compounding drinks of cold tea, sugar, and wine, for the reason that they are so nice that we drink more at a time than we should. Our companions, too, look at us with such longing eyes that it is difficult to resist their dumb appeal. Such a water-bottle is soon empty. Plain sugar and water is not so nice, but is very sustaining, the sugar being very rapidly digested, and a raw egg or two adds to the value of the compound. Dried prunes, acidulated drops, and other sweetmeats will be found very pleasant on a ski tour, even though one never touches them at other times. Louis Stevenson has observed that the hungrier a man is the more he appreciates delicacies, so do not let your luncheon consist entirely of plain beef sandwiches. Remember, too, that it is better to eat little and often than largely and all at once.

Some sort of Repairing Outfit and a spare ski tip should always be taken with one. There are little light metal tips on the market made to fit over a broken ski which are very useful. The kind that fixes with a screw is best, as the other is apt to come off. If, however, one has the latter, a small screw-nail through it would keep it in place. With one of these tips, and the means of making an improvised binding with a few screw eyes and nails, a washer or two, and some straps, the runner should be able to get home easily enough wherever his ski may break. The reader must use his ingenuity in such matters, remembering always that it is impossible to execute very elaborate repairs with cold fingers.

There are other odds and ends more or less useful on tour, a description of which will be found in any dealer’s list.

PART III.
TECHNICAL.

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PRELIMINARY ADVICE.

We would very strongly recommend the beginner to make his first efforts on some one or other of the good snow conditions described on pp. 21 and 22. Freshly fallen deep snow is especially to be avoided, for not only does it afford heavy and difficult going, but a fall in it is apt to be dangerous. This is, of course, the reverse of what one would expect; but what happens is that the ski sink in deeply, and in the event of a fall they are apt to stick and sprain the ankle or knee. The firmer the snow the better it is, provided always that it be of sufficient depth and that it be fair snow, and not ice-crust.

All things considered, we would advise the beginner to learn to go slowly before he learns to go fast. That is to say, as soon as he can run straight fairly well, we would have him learn how to regulate his speed and steer by means of what is known as “stemming” (see infra, p. 69). In practising this movement he will at the same time learn how to balance himself with the weight on one foot, a necessary accomplishment; for, though in ski-running both ski are usually kept on the ground, the weight is nearly always mainly on one foot. It is well to pause and try to appreciate this very important fact before reading further.

After he has learnt something of stemming, and provided that he has followed our instructions and used his pole as little as possible (and then only as we direct), he should not find much difficulty in acquiring some speed in glissading. He should then begin to take short tours of, say, an hour or two’s duration, gradually lengthening them as his proficiency increases. He should when on tour endeavour to apply the knowledge which he has gained on the practice ground, and on the practice ground he should try to overcome those difficulties which he has encountered on tour. There is no sense in keeping on climbing up and sliding straight down the same easy hill; yet such is the commonest form of ski-ing at fashionable Swiss winter resorts!

As soon as the beginner can “turn on the spot,” run straight fairly well, and “stem,” he can (we do not say he should) go where he pleases. He will, however, remain slow and awkward, and he will miss a great deal of the beauty of the sport if he rests content with these easy accomplishments. We trust that he will be of a more ambitious disposition, and that he will proceed to the mastery of the “S” turn and of the “Telemark” and “Christiania” swings; and we strongly recommend him to learn something of jumping, not only on account of the amusement which he will certainly derive from it, but because it is the very best means of gaining a good balance for ordinary running.

It is of the greatest importance to cultivate a freedom and elasticity of movement and position. The muscles should be as strong as iron, but as flexible as rope. The knees should be pliant, and should act like the springs of a carriage in relation to the rest of the body. Be watchful, but courageous, and try hard not to fall.

LEAN FORWARD!

Lean forward is the watchword of the ski-runner, and it is just as well to explain what is meant by it before proceeding further.

Place your ski parallel, one about a foot in front of the other, and throw the body forward as much as possible; one ought to feel as if about to fall on one’s nose. To the onlooker one seems to be standing on the entire sole of the foot, but in reality all the weight rests on the front part and the toes. Thus, stand erect on the ski, the knees a little bent, and then lean forward without bending any part of your body (especially not the region of the hips) and without raising the heel; then you ought to feel what is meant. Never assume a position as if sitting down or about to do so, because that would press down the heel. Every violation of this great rule of leaning forward is punished by the ski “bolting” from under one.

TO LIFT THE POINT OF THE SKI.

To lift the point of the ski seems a very simple matter, but it is at least ten to one that the novice will do it wrong. Press the heel of the ski down on the ground with your heel, and lift the point upwards with your toe. Do not raise any part of your foot from the ski.

To lift the heel of the ski reverse the above. Here it will not be possible to keep the heel of the foot on the heel of the ski, but the binding will raise the latter from the ground to some extent.

TURNING ON THE SPOT.

Turning on the spot is a puzzle to the beginner, though simple when shown.

Lift one ski straight to the front (see Fig. 13 (1)), putting the heel end as far away from you as you can, then turn it outwards and away from you smartly, swinging the point right round and leaving the heel resting on the snow, then put it down, point by heel, alongside of the other ski. This twisted position (Fig. 13 (2)) is the only difficulty, but very few attempts will soon show that it is not so bad or cramped as it seemed at first. In this position hold the knees slightly bent. Lastly, raise the point of the other ski and swing it round. You will find it easier to learn this movement with the assistance of your stick, which should first be held obliquely across the body, pointing in the opposite direction to that in which you are turning. Then after assuming position (2) shift it across as in (3), and lastly swing round the other ski. As soon as you are proficient with the help of the stick practise without it—and, of course, both to right and to left. It is not necessary to stand on the snow in order to learn these movements. The carpet will do, but remove all Dresden china from the immediate neighbourhood.

WALKING WITH SKI ON THE LEVEL.

Walking with ski on the level differs from ordinary walking or skating in this, that one must not strike out, there being no fulcrum or point of resistance. Keep the ski parallel and as close together as possible (closer than shown in the diagram), for a narrow spoor has many advantages, besides being “good form.” Throw the weight of the body forward and slide on the advanced leg; the “hind” leg must be absolutely disengaged—that is to say, do not strike out by trying to press the snow with it. Begin with long, slow steps, lunging forward with bent knee (Fig 14). Do not lift the ski from the ground, but slide along regularly and conscientiously; do not hurry or flurry, but save your breath. In one’s first steps one must specially cultivate precision, sliding forward with ski exactly parallel, and distributing the weight properly. Lean forward! slide!7

A single stick on the level is of but little service, but with two sticks the pace can be considerably increased, especially on a good firm surface. Both sticks should be thrown forward simultaneously, and the slide on the advanced leg accelerated by a vigorous push with both arms. When proceeding in this way it is well to observe some kind of rhythm; and, as the snow is seldom slippery enough to admit of a push at each step, one should run, for example, one, two, three steps (swinging the sticks forward), and then push with the arms, sliding on, say, the right leg; then run one, two, three steps and push, sliding on the left leg, and so on.

UP-HILL.

To the laity it is a matter for wonder how it is possible to climb any considerable hill at all on ski. We remember well the look of polite incredulity which passed across the face of a mountaineering friend some years ago when we told him that a certain well-known pass in the Alps had been traversed in winter. He had tried ski himself, but had made very little of them, and the pass in question is a stiff one to negotiate even in summer. But now long climbs on ski in winter have become so common that it is unnecessary to pursue the subject further than to quote the classical observation of Olaus Magnus, “There exists no mountain, however high, which by means of cunning by-ways he (the ski-runner) cannot surmount.”

It is, however, well to observe here that some of the accounts of the ease with which one can climb hills on ski have been exaggerated. In rare conditions of perfect snow one may perhaps ascend as quickly as in summer, but, roughly speaking, it may be said that ski are about twenty-five per cent. slower up-hill than boots. We are here, of course, speaking of climbing a steep mountain where it is necessary to zig-zag (see infra), and not of walking straight up a moderate slope. Moreover, whether we slide the ski upwards in winter or whether we carry a corresponding weight on our backs in summer, the fact remains that some 10lb. or so have to be raised so many feet, and we are handicapped to that extent. Where ski really have the advantage is after the summit has been reached—of which more anon.

Up to a certain degree of steepness (varying with the quality of the snow) there is little or no difference between the methods used for climbing and for walking on the level. Snow is not an absolutely slippery substance, and the ski always adhere to it to some extent. There comes, however, very soon a point beyond which we can no longer slide as on the level, and shortly after-wards another, where the force of gravity overcomes the “stickiness” of the snow and we begin to slip back. These points are very different with the expert and the beginner, and the former will slide easily straight up a slope upon which the latter will slip hopelessly.

In ascending a steep incline the art lies (1) in knowing (and only experience can teach one) just how steeply one can go without a slip; (2) in the correct placing of the ski in the snow; and (3) in the correct balancing of the body upon the ski when so placed. The correct placing of the ski is not a difficult matter. The secret lies in raising the point of the ski (p. 53) an inch or two from the ground and bringing it straight down with a firm stamp. The stamp is at first nearly always made too gently by ladies and too hard by men. Imagine you are cracking a walnut—that will be about right. Remember that where the foot is brought down there it must stop. If it slips even the least tiny bit you must stamp again.

Next bring the weight forward as evenly as possible on to the ski you have stamped, and advance the other leg. In doing so take the greatest care to balance the weight of the body straight over the stamped ski; lean neither backwards nor forwards, or you are certain to slip.

In hill-climbing it is, of course, expedient to go as steeply as possible, but the beginner will find that it pays best to take things easily at first, as a single slip backwards is more exhausting than twenty steps forwards.

To negotiate a steep slope one must go across and upward at a convenient angle, making a zig-zag track, as an engineer would plan a good mountain road (Fig 15). Turn at the corners as described, p. 55, and when so doing remember to assume a safe standing position, for a slip on a steep slope may be attended by unpleasant consequences. The correct position in which to stand before turning is clearly with the ski horizontally in space—that is to say, at right angles to the direction of the gradient; then one cannot slip while engrossed in the task.

The diagrams on page 59 show two other methods of hill-climbing which are chiefly useful for short slopes. They are both too fatiguing to be employed for any length of time. A modification of the style shown in Fig. 17 is, however, very useful, especially on crusted snow. It consists in going forwards and upwards at the same time, lifting the ski at every step. This is not so very tiring, and may on a hard surface be kept up for a considerable length of time without undue fatigue. The track formed will appear as under.

There exists a way of sitting with the thigh on the pole (not with the junction of the legs) for braking on narrow, steep, and icy roads, where all other means are simply out of the question (see Fig. 20); and for the successful execution of this manoeuvre it is necessary to note the following points very carefully. Assuming one wishes to sit on the left thigh, then the left hand grasps the end of the pole which protrudes below. Let this hand be close to the seat, and let the part of the stick between hand and point be as short as possible. The right hand rests on the right knee, and seizes the upper end of the pole. This is important, for it is the use of the knee as a support for the upper hand which gives rigidity to the whole arrangement and allows one to hold out over long distances. The leg—the one on which one sits (in the example to the left)—is stretched out in front, and by shifting the weight from the ski to the point of the pole one can stop instantly, even on clear ice.

SNOW-PLOUGHING.

We now come to a better method of stopping and braking. Snow-ploughing is used for reducing the pace and stopping when running straight down. In principle it is very simple, and it is quite easy to learn. The heels of the ski are pressed apart, and the toes held together, by which means a V-shaped kind of plough is formed, the friction of which against the snow causes one to stop. The wider the angle of the V the greater, of course, will be the braking power. The weight is distributed evenly between the two ski, and when the snow is hard both are turned slightly on to their inner edges. When the snow is soft it is best to hold them flat. The method is particularly serviceable on a hard road, and under such conditions, even when travelling fast, it can be employed quite suddenly without fear of accidents. But on soft snow any attempt to use it when running fast will result in the ski crossing and a fall forwards. Under such conditions nobody has strength enough to hold the ski apart. One must accordingly stop (by some other means) and then, if one wishes to proceed slowly, place the ski in the V-shaped position and restart.

The stick is a useful adjunct to snow-ploughing, and Fig. 21 shows a serviceable way of holding it.

SIDE-SLIPPING.

On very steep slopes, especially if such be icy, it is sometimes necessary to slip down sideways. This is simply accomplished by holding the ski at right angles to the fall of the slope and keeping them flat on the snow (or ice-crust) instead of edging them. The stick is held in the snow above the runner, and assists him in preserving his balance, for the motion is necessarily somewhat irregular. Side-slipping is, however, nothing but a method of descending a dangerous slope where snow-ploughing, “stemming,” &c. (see infra), are out of the question. It is not amusing or pretty, but merely occasionally useful.

STEMMING.

Stemming is akin to snow-ploughing, and by some German writers the stemming position is termed the half-snow-plough position. It is a most valuable way of reducing the speed when traversing a slope which one does not desire to, or cannot, descend straight, and it is also of great service for turning and stopping under all circumstances. Whilst of ancient origin and known to all good Norwegian runners, stemming is but little used in Norway. The chief reasons for this are that the ground in that country is not in general steep enough to necessitate traversing, and that most Norwegians are from early childhood familiar with the more difficult Telemark and Christiania swings. On the Continent, however, the ground is usually steeper and the skill of the runner less, and there stemming has been found to be very useful. We have no hesitation in recommending the beginner to learn it at this stage if he wants to tour as soon as possible, and eventually to become a good all-round ski-runner.

At Lilienfeld, a small village near Vienna, stemming was hit upon, quite independently, by a Herr Zdarsky (an Austrian gentleman to whom we have already referred), who turned a philosophical mind to its scientific development. The description which we give of it is practically the same as that given in his book. Herr Zdarsky recommends the use of his own special binding, and employs a shortish, smooth-bottomed ski with a bluff entrance. We have found, however, that the movements can be made with any good firm binding and with any ski, though they are undoubtedly easier, both to learn and to accomplish, on a flat-bottomed short ski, than on a relatively long and grooved ski. (See p. 32.)

In learning stemming one distinguishes between the “glider” (the sliding ski) and the “braker” (the stemming ski). On a hillside the glider is the upper of the two. The glider must point in the direction in which one wishes to go. The lower ski, the braker, is kept a little behind the other, so as to prevent the glider crossing it, and is held in the position shown in the above diagram (Fig 22). In order to ensure smooth and accurate progress it is highly important to remember to keep both ski flat on the snow.

Begin by running obliquely across and down a good steep slope in this position, keeping all the weight of the body on the glider, and merely brushing the snow lightly with the braker. Choose a gradient of sufficient steepness to keep you moving at a rate of, say, three or four miles an hour, and endeavour to run smoothly and to keep in a straight line.

In practising this you will discover that by pressing more or less on the braker you can turn up-hill, stop, or go slow, just as you please. We accordingly formulate directions for so doing.

To Turn Up-hill.—Press lightly on the braker, edging it into the snow.

To Stop.—Press hard, and turn the body up-hill. You will find yourself come round with a swing. This method of stopping can, of course, be used anywhere—e.g., on the level after running straight down, where, if one wishes to stop by (say) a turn to the right, one stems with the left ski, at the same time turning the body to the right.

To Slightly Reduce the Speed.—Press a little on the braker without altering your direction.

Practise these three things patiently, constantly remembering the injunctions: Glider flat! Weight on glider! (or on braker, to stop!) Lean forward! Heels apart! Points together! (which latter means that one must keep the tip of the braker close to the side of the glider, and about a foot behind its tip).

On hard snow both ski will have to be edged so as to afford a grip on the impenetrable surface and to prevent side-slip. And between the extremes of the softest and the hardest snow the runner will discover many instances where he may have to edge the braker a little while going. But let him, all the same, interpret these remarks as absolutely as he can, and always try hard to hold the ski as flat as possible.

Practise on steep ground, because there mistakes are more easily discovered, and the correct way soon proclaims its advantages.

Fig. 23 illustrates the proper position for the ski in stemming. The arrow “s” is the fall of the slope, for the reader is looking straight at the mountain; “d” is the direction in which the runner wishes to go obliquely across this slope. This direction is on the whole that of the glider “g.” The braker “b” brushes the snow with its entire length, thus producing a broad track, the direct evidence of the braking power—i.e., friction. Therefore, weight off the braker for going, on for stopping. The steeper the slope the wider must be the angle formed by the two ski. The little circle “p” shows whereabouts the point of the pole should be—that is, a little behind the upper foot.

The pole may be used to facilitate balance when executing these movements, its point lightly furrowing the snow. It will also be found to considerably assist a sudden stop, for by pressing it into the ground and throwing all the weight on to the braker the glider becomes entirely disengaged, and there is less chance of its crossing the braker, as is otherwise apt to happen when running very fast. Hold the pole fairly short, do not lean back on it, and do not use it more than is really necessary.

TO MAKE A DOWN-HILL CURVE.

The foregoing section gave the beginner directions for turning quickly up-hill, but how shall he, when crossing a steep slope, turn quickly down-hill and, without stopping, continue his traverse in the opposite direction?

To do this is evidently a most valuable accomplishment, for if the runner cannot achieve it he is obliged at the end of his traverse to stop and turn as described on p. 55 before he can start off again on the other tack.

Fig. 24. A circular curve to the left. (O represents the pole.) This is the fall of the Slope. 1.—You are coming obliquely from above, in the direction of the arrow “d.” First give a vigorous stem with the lower ski “b.” Then 2.—Let your body sink forward to the left; pull heels more apart. 3.—Now you are looking straight down the slope. Just before this moment you had time to change your stick over. Both ski flat. Weight on ski nearest this print. Note the position for the pole. 4.—Coming into stemming “right.” 5.—Done. Continuing your way stemming “right.”

Here is the easiest way to learn.

First reduce the speed by a vigorous “stem,” taking care not to turn up-hill in so doing. Then, keeping both ski rigidly flat and holding the heels far apart and the points of the ski close together, turn the body down-hill. Lean forward, and throw all the weight on to the outside (lower) ski.

You will then, if you have followed these directions in every particular, come round with a delightful swish and find yourself starting off comfortably in the other direction.

Change the stick to the other side of the body when about half round, because at that instant one is almost stationary for half a second or so.

The more one pulls the heels apart the shorter and neater the curve will be.

If success does not follow, it is due to some mistake, such as not leaning forward (one will then sit down), or edging the ski (they catch in the snow and overthrow the runner), or not tearing the heels sufficiently apart and throwing the weight on to the lower ski (which causes one to go off at a tangent instead of completing the arc).

The words of command for the curve are, then: Lean forward! Ski flat! Heels apart! Weight on the lower ski!

The diagrams pp. 73 and 75 should be of assistance in enabling the beginner to understand what is meant. On a really steep hill it requires a considerable amount of nerve to make up one’s mind to plunge for an instant headlong downwards. One’s natural inclination is to hang back and lean inwards, but this is precisely what one must not do.

The stick will be found to be of considerable assistance in making this curve, a little touch with it in the snow just as one is coming round being a great help to the balance. When shifting it across as above described, hold it rather short and place it in the snow well in front of you. This will assist you in leaning forward. Do not, however, attempt to spin round leaning on it; to do so throws the weight inside, which is quite fatal. It is, of course, perfectly possible to make the turn without a stick at all, but to do so is difficult on very steep ground. Practise on a moderate slope to begin with; when you become proficient move on to steeper and yet steeper places; but, of course, look out for avalanches!

Coming down a long and complicated slope one joins one curve to another without a break, thus dodging the trees and rocks. On a steep incline, if there are obstacles in the way of a straight descent, the S-track, as it is called, affords a safe reduction of speed and a prolongation of the pleasurable slide.

The ski-runner who has reached this stage enjoys himself wherever there is snow, even if there be little of it, for he can circumvent the patches where it has melted away. The photograph on the opposite page shows what can be done after a single winter’s patient practice. It is a “snake-line” made in the winter of 1903 by one of the writers of this chapter, and by no means an accomplishment requiring more than ordinary skill or talent. The slope in question descends from Alp Laret, near St. Moritz, to the valley in which lies the world-famed Cresta toboggan run. The gradient is between 40 deg. and 50 deg. (55 deg. to 60 deg. near the top), and the vertical distance from top to bottom amounts to exactly 300 metres (1,000ft.). The small avalanche about the middle was started by the ski of the runner, and the marks and remains of older avalanches on the left give sufficient testimony as to the steepness of the spot. The length of the run must be at least half a mile, and the entire distance was covered without a single fall or stumble. May the beginner draw the proper conclusion: that where there’s a will there’s a way, and that both in this case are within the reach of the ordinary individual who can walk, row, shoot, ride, play tennis, cricket, or football.

What is it that makes the votary of the slender plank count the shortening days, and greet with boyish glee the slowly falling flakes? What makes him tremble with excitement at the sight of the whitening hills? It is the memory of past delights, the impatience to taste them again. He sees himself on the top of the mountain. From his feet a vista of stately firs on a slope of dazzling white stretches away into the valley a thousand feet below. Above, the clear blue sky. Off he goes! For ten minutes the swish of the spurting snow is sweet music to his ears; for ten minutes he scorns the soaring albatross, as he feels himself buoyed by the feathering ski, swaying from curve to curve. The excitement of the start has left him, and though ten minutes may seem a short time he enjoys them to the full, for he is calm, and glides easily, without a show of strength, without effort or strain. He feels the mighty power of the rush, the living force which is gathering as he flies, which drives him along, but which is nevertheless under his absolute control. He toys with the weight that impels him; by small movements of his ski he steers and directs the energy within. He can make the snow yield like water, or resist like steel. He is swung from turn to turn, irresistibly, but with safe and stately motion, by the force which he commands; he feels himself rocking softly, like the petrel on the waves.

Then comes the end; the stream at the bottom is near. A sudden twist; a swirling cloud of white, and, as the crystals settle glittering in the sun, there one sees him firm and erect, the ruler of the mountain, the master of the snow and ski!

THE “TELEMARK” SWING.

We now come to other more rapid, more brilliant, and more difficult methods of turning and coming to a sudden standstill. The stemming turn can hardly be performed quickly when running very fast without the aid of the stick, especially when long grooved ski are used. But with the “Telemark” and “Christiania” swings, about to be described, a good runner can stop suddenly almost anywhere when travelling much faster. It is indeed a worthy sight to see such a one come sailing past, his every sinew as pliable and strong as the good ash beneath his feet, yielding to each dip, as a smart racing vessel yields to the waves. Twenty-five miles an hour he is travelling, and not a furlong less. To stop suddenly at such a speed seems impossible. But, swish! and he is round as easily and as quickly as you can read these words. How was it done? It was all so rapid you could not follow. You saw a little sinking on one knee—perhaps not even that. The snow hid nearly everything. You slide up to our friend and ask him to show you what he did. He will be most polite and most anxious for you to learn—especially if he be a Norwegian, as will almost certainly prove to be the fact. You will be shown just how to place your feet, and just how to bend the knees, and just how to lean the body. And you will start off and fail hopelessly again and again. By and by, however, especially if your teacher be an intelligent man who has had previous experience with beginners, you will begin to understand the knack of the movement, and by the end of the afternoon you should be rewarded by some measure of success.

But perhaps you may not be fortunate enough to meet with such a runner, or, what is by no means improbable, it may be that, though a clever performer on ski, he is not a good instructor. He makes the swing, but knows not himself how he does it. And small blame to him, for how many people trouble to analyse the things they have learnt as children?

We venture to offer our services. But is it possible to learn these subtle manoeuvres from a book? Most certainly it is; but you must either take it with you into the field, or else (what is as good, or better) have some preliminary practice in your bed-room, where you will have only your looking-glass for an audience, and no small boy in the immediate neighbourhood to point the finger of scorn. If you do this, we are sure that you will learn very quickly, or if you fail, then our instructions must be wrong. If, however, you simply glance through what we have written without making practical experiments, book in hand, we can accept no responsibility. These turns are really not at all hard to make fairly well, which is all that we can pretend to teach; but to make them with certainty requires long practice. And that is, of course, entirely your own affair.

We propose to deal with the “Telemark” first—not because it is easier or more useful, for in this respect there is little to choose between them, but because it is customary to do so. Besides, the Telemark is a much prettier swing than the “Christiania,” and it will make a greater impression on your admiring friends should you be so lucky as to succeed in making one when showing off.

You will not find your stick (on which we trust you are not in the habit of riding) of the slightest assistance to you in learning either of these swings. It may help you a little to make the Christiania once you have acquired the knack of it, but we are very doubtful even about that, and we strongly advise that from now on you do not use it at all. Hold it in your hand, except when jumping, as previously recommended (p. 45), but make no attempt to use it.

Each of these swings can be made in two directions—to right or to left; and each has its special use for special occasions. Apart, therefore, from being a graceful accomplishment and from the excellent practice it affords, it is of considerable practical value to be able to make all four of them. Nevertheless, most people are content with one of each kind—a Telemark to the left and a Christiania to the right—which enables them under ordinary conditions to turn in either direction without changing the foot (see infra). But the best runners can make all four swings, and we recommend you to emulate their example.

The Telemark swing is easiest in loose snow, where there is little side slip. We find it rather easier on the level than the Christiania (e.g., to stop after making a jump), but it is more difficult to make quickly on a hillside, and in general it is not quite so rapid as the Christiania.

Fig. 27 (a) shows the position in which the body and limbs are held throughout a Telemark swing to the left. It is convenient to call this position the Telemark position. Fig. 27 (b) shows the position which the ski assume after the swing is over.

The following directions are for making a Telemark swing to the left.

The directions for making a Telemark swing to the right are identically the same, substituting left for right and right for left throughout.

To Make a Telemark Swing to the Left.—(a) From the normal position for running down (see p. 63) advance the right ski till the right ankle is opposite the bend of the left ski. Raise the heel of the left foot off the left ski, bend the left knee, and throw all the weight forward on to the right foot. (This is what we mean by “the Telemark position.”) (b) Place the right ski slightly on its left edge and turn and lean the whole body to the left.

If these directions are correctly carried out, the runner will come round with a sweep, the sharpness of which will depend upon the force with which he turns his body as advised in (b).

An excellent way of learning this turn is to practise running straight down hill in the Telemark position. Note especially to raise the heel of the left foot as shown. This is highly important, and is, in fact, the key to the whole affair, for if the runner raises his heel he is almost compelled to throw the weight forward on to the right foot, and if he can once succeed in doing this everything else is comparatively easy. So remember to raise the heel of the left foot and to kneel well down on the left ski. Cultivate as narrow a spoor as possible, and as soon as you can run straight like this at a moderate speed try turning the body ever such a little. Look the way you wish to go. You will be delighted to discover what a small amount of turning will cause you to come round very quickly.

To compensate for the centrifugal force exercised by the turn on the upper part of the body, you will have to lean inwards; in fact, after you begin to get the knack of the thing, you are pretty certain to be thrown outwards once or twice. But do not trouble about that too much; do not at first make any conscious effort to lean inwards, or you will probably fall in that direction; you will very soon begin to compensate for the outward throw quite unconsciously.

Do not try to turn too quickly when learning, but rather take matters easily; speed will come by and by—in which connection note that both the “Telemark” and the “Christiania” are swings and not jerks, and that, however rapidly they be performed, the body should be turned crescendo and not (to continue the music metaphor) sforzando.

Another capital way of practising is to stand on some level space at the edge of a steep hill in the position shown in Fig. 27 (a) and then to slip over the edge and instantly to begin to swing. This method will allow you to practise a great number of swings in a short time without the trouble of walking a long way up-hill in order to gain speed. The following diagram shows graphically how to do so:—

The “Telemark” swing can also be used to make down-hill turns in the manner described above, p. 72, and the principles there given hold good here, except that the “Telemark” position, instead of the stemming position, is held throughout.

A succession of S turns made in this way looks very pretty, but on a very steep hill their execution becomes rather uncertain, for the snow, unless perfect, is apt to slip irregularly, and with a true “Telemark” the stick is no use to help matters out. We have found, however, that a sort of half-stemming, half-“Telemark” position plus a little stick is useful in inducing long ski to come round.

THE “CHRISTIANIA” SWING.

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.