How To Ski and How Not To
by Vivian Caulfeild · English · Gutenberg #46067 · 347,972 chars · public domain (US)
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Title: How To Ski and How Not To
Author: Vivian Caulfeild
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HOW TO SKI AND HOW NOT TO ***
HOW TO SKI
AND
HOW NOT TO
BY
VIVIAN CAULFEILD
PHOTOGRAPHS BY K. DELAP
_THIRD AND REVISED EDITION_
NEW YORK
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
597-599 FIFTH AVENUE
1914
Printed by BALLANTYNE, HANSON & CO.
at the Ballantyne Press, Edinburgh
RANDALL'S SKI BOOTS
_SPECIAL FEATURES_:
SELECTED MOOR CALF UPPERS.
Watertight Tongues, double thickness of leather
round sides.
STOUT ENGLISH BARK TANNED SOLES.
WATERPROOF: Yet flexible as a dancing-shoe.
The new "BELMONT" HEEL.
_SUPERIOR TO ALL MAKES_
RANDALL'S "SKI" BOOTS _alone_ combine
all the above excellent qualities, and are made for
Gentlemen, Ladies, and Children.
[Illustration] RANDALL'S
For High-Grade
Footwear
H. E. RANDALL, LTD.
24 Haymarket, London, S.W.
39, 40 & 41 Poultry, London, E.C.
10 Grand Hotel Buildings, Charing
Cross, London, W.C.
LIST OF PHOTOGRAPHIC PLATES
Frontispiece. The Adelboden Jumping-hill. _Photo by Miss
E. Frisby._
I. On the level.
II. Stopping a back-slip.
III. Before kick-turn.
IV. Kick-turn.
V. Kick-turn.
VI. Kick-turn.
VII_a_. Kick-turn.
VII_b_. Kick-turn: wrong position.
VIII. Kick-turn: finished.
IX. Herring-boning.
X. Side-stepping.
X_a_. H.B., Herring-boning; K., Kick-turn;
S., Side-stepping; H.S., Half-side-stepping.
XI. Scraping right ski.
XII. Scraping left ski.
XIII. Starting a run on hillside.
XIV. Straight-running: normal position.
XV. Straight-running: normal position.
XVI. Straight-running: how _not_ to do it.
XVII. Straight-running: Telemark position.
XVIII. Straight-running: Telemark position.
XIX. Straight-running: Telemark position.
XX. Snow-ploughing (stemming with both skis).
XXI. Braking with the sticks.
XXII. Stemming with one ski, or start of a downhill turn
to left.
XXIII. Downhill stemming-turn to left: halfway round.
XXIV. Finish of stemming-turn to left.
XXV. Unsuccessful stemming-turn to left: result of wrong
balance or position.
XXVI. Track of downhill stemming-turns.
XXVII. Downhill stemming-turn to left in soft snow (note
wide stride and edged skis).
XXVIII. How _not_ to make a stemming-turn.
XXIX. Uphill Telemark swing to left.
XXX. Uphill Telemark swing to left: wrong balance and
position of skis.
XXXI. Uphill Telemark swing to left (seen from above).
XXXII. Downhill Telemark swing to left.
XXXIII. Track of downhill Telemark swings.
XXXIV. Starting an uphill Christiania swing to the right
from traversing.
XXXV. Starting an uphill Christiania swing to the right
from a direct descent.
XXXVI. Finish of uphill Christiania swing to right.
XXXVII. Bad finish of uphill Christiania swing to right.
XXXVIII. Start of a downhill Christiania swing to right.
XXXIX. Bad finish of uphill Christiania swing to right.
XL. Uphill Christiania swing to right (seen from above).
XLI. Finish of uphill Christiania swing to right (seen
from above).
XLII. Track of downhill Christiania swings.
XLIII. Downhill Christiania swing to right: halfway round.
_Photo by L. Büttner._
XLIV. "Jerked" Christiania swing to right (note position
of arms and shoulders).
XLV. Downhill Telemark swing to left (seen from above).
XLVI. Uphill Telemark swing to right.
XLVII. Jumping round to the left: bad position of skis.
XLVIII. Jumping round to the right.
XLIX. Jumping. _Photo by L. Büttner._
L. Jumping. _Photo by L. Büttner._
LI. Jumping.
LII. Preparing for the "Sats."
LIII. Making the "Sats."
LIV. Hans Klopfenstein jumping (winner of inter-Swiss
Championship, 1910).
LV. Landing from a Jump.
LVI. Jumper just clear of the platform (seen from above).
LVII. Harald Smith jumping at Adelboden, 1909
(photographed from under the platform).
LVIII. How to carry the skis.
LIX. How to carry the skis. (The stick resting on the
right shoulder takes some weight off the other.)
PREFACE TO REVISED EDITION
The alterations and additions to this book in its present form are
due partly to fresh practical experience; partly to adverse criticism
of which I now see the justice; and partly, as I freely admit, to the
picking of other people's brains. Since this book was published I have
read for the first time books on ski-ing by Zdarsky, Bilgeri, Luther,
and Arnold Lunn, and have re-read those of Richardson, Rickmers,
Paulcke, and Hoek. As a result I have had to alter a good deal of my
theory and some of my practice, and to alter and enlarge this book
accordingly. To all the above-named authors, therefore, I am more or
less indebted, and feel correspondingly grateful.
In adopting an idea one can seldom help altering it more or less, and
if in the body of the book I have made few direct acknowledgments, it
has been from no lack of gratitude, but rather from a doubt whether
the originator of the idea would be gratified at its development or
indignant at its distortion.
I must however make special acknowledgments to Ober-Leutnant
Bilgeri. From his excellent book I have gained much fresh knowledge
of the theory and practice of ski-ing. This book, moreover, while
confirming me in my opinion of the vices of the Lilienfeld system of
ski-_running_, has given me a fresh insight into the virtues of the
Lilienfeld system of _teaching_, and consequently a fresh sense of my
indebtedness to the chief apostle of this system, my first teacher, Mr.
Rickmers.
If Herr Bilgeri has ever happened to read my book, certain resemblances
between it and his own--the analogy of the bicycle and tricycle with
the single and double-track runner, for instance--may, since his
book was published first, have struck him as remarkable. I take this
opportunity of assuring him that when I wrote this book I had not read
his, nor for that matter any of his writings, and that, if I had,
the resemblances would have been not only fully acknowledged, but
considerably more numerous.
To Mr. E. C. Richardson I must return special thanks for criticism that
has shown me the error of some of my ways of thinking; I have also to
thank Mr. C. W. Richardson for new ideas gained from an article by him
on "Knee Action in Ski-ing."
Finally, I wish to express my gratitude to everyone whose suggestions
I have adopted, or who, either by precept or example, has taught me
anything new and so has had a hand in the revision of this book, but to
whom I have not referred individually.
This heavy list of acknowledgments makes me realise more than ever how
difficult it is nowadays for a writer on ski-ing technique--or at any
rate for _this_ writer--to say anything new. I am afraid that even a
_succès de scandale_ as the fanatical prophet of complete sticklessness
will soon be out of my reach, if it is not already, for we are all
agreed now that the stick should be used as little as possible, and
therefore that not to use it at all is, if possible, best. It is a
short step from this to finding out by practical experience that, so
long as one is travelling on _snow_, not _ice_, and has a little more
than room enough to place the skis horizontally across the slope, one
can move just as freely, quickly, and easily, and with just as perfect
control, without the stick as with it.
E. V. S. C.
_December 1912._
CONTENTS
PAGE
INTRODUCTORY--
THE ENGLISHMAN AS A SKI-RUNNER 1
EQUIPMENT--
THE SKI 23
CLOTHING 41
THE MANAGEMENT OF THE SKIS--
ON THE LEVEL AND UPHILL 52
GENERAL PRINCIPLES OF STEERING, &C. 75
STRAIGHT-RUNNING 97
BRAKING 120
THE STEMMING TURN 136
THE TELEMARK SWING 159
THE CHRISTIANIA SWING 175
JUMPING ROUND 210
SKATING 214
JUMPING 217
HOW TO RUN ACROSS COUNTRY 252
APPENDIX--
HOW TO PRACTISE 280
HOW TO SKI
INTRODUCTORY
THE ENGLISHMAN AS A SKI-RUNNER
Probably every one likely to read this book knows that a ski is a
snow-shoe or skate, and that it is a long narrow plank turned up in
front, but he may not have a very clear idea of the use of it.
It may not have occurred to him, for instance, that in a country which
is deeply covered with soft snow (the surface of snow is sometimes a
hard crust) a man without snow-shoes of some kind is not merely unable
to move quickly, but is unable to move at all outside the cleared roads
and beaten tracks.
Merely to prevent sinking into the snow the ski is just as useful
as a snow-shoe of the racquet form, such as the Canadian, and it is
never _less_ useful than the other even when it seems most likely to
be. For moving through dense underwood, for instance, when its length
would appear likely to be awkward, or for hauling sledges, when its
slipperiness would seem a disadvantage, experience shows that the ski
is fully as useful as the other type.
As a means of locomotion it is altogether superior. Over level open
country a man can slide along on skis a great deal faster than he can
walk (or run) on Canadian snow-shoes.
In hilly country the ski-runner has a further advantage. If a hill is
not steep a man may walk straight up it on racquets rather more quickly
than a man on skis can climb it by zigzagging (as he is obliged to do
on all but the most gradual slopes); but on the descent the ski-runner
more than makes up the time he has lost; for, helped by gravity, he
slides down the hill at least three, perhaps as much as thirty, times
as fast as he climbed it, according to his expertness and the nature of
the ground, while the other takes almost as long to _walk_ down as he
did to walk up.
On very steep ground the ski-runner has a still greater advantage, for
here the narrowness of the ski allows him to move across the steepest
snow slopes with little or no discomfort to his ankles, while on a
steep slope the man on racquets is practically helpless, for, on
account of their shape, it is only with the utmost difficulty, if at
all, that he can move either up, down, or across the hill.
A moderately expert ski-runner can manoeuvre on any sort of ground
which is covered with snow, provided that the surface of the snow
be not so hard that the edges of his skis can make absolutely no
impression in it. The steepness of a slope, no matter how great, is
in itself no obstacle to his manoeuvring with perfect freedom; it
need only be reckoned with in so far as it relates to the danger of
avalanche.
This should give some idea of the scope of ski-running considered
merely as a means of locomotion.
With regard to the possibilities of ski-running considered purely as
a sport, it may be said that a good runner, descending a steep hill
where the ground is open, will often cover a considerable distance at
an average rate of 45 miles an hour: that when moving at half that
speed he can thread his way among obstacles or stop suddenly; and that
the present record for a jump on skis is about 154 feet. I need hardly
say, therefore, that the opportunities afforded by the sport for the
exercise not only of the runner's nerve, but of his skill and judgment
are almost unlimited.
Now it is only by learning the best methods and style at the very
outset (or by changing them if he has started with bad ones) that a
man can develop to the utmost whatever latent capacity for ski-running
he may possess, and only in this way that he is ever likely to become
expert enough to have any right to the title of a good runner.
At this point I had better, for the benefit of those readers who have
already used skis, give some sort of definition of good ski-running as
I understand it.
It is not quite easy to do so, but I take it that the best judges
would hardly call a man a good runner unless he could run steadily,
quickly, and easily down any hill on which ski-ing was possible at
all--no matter how difficult the ground might be as regards obstacles,
gradient, and condition of snow--_without ever using his stick as an
aid to the balance or for steering, or, except on the very rarest
occasions, for helping him to slow up or stop_; and unless he could,
on an ordinary jumping hill, make jumps of fair length without falling
very often.
Such a man would probably be able to make, in that kind of snow which
is appropriate to each, all the swings and turns to either right or
left while running at a good speed, and would almost certainly both
run and jump in really good style.
A good runner, indeed, can nearly always be recognised by his style,
although, of course, a man cannot be called a bad runner, however bad
his style, if he is really fast and steady downhill, and can make long
jumps with certainty. But a ski-runner with a bad style is below his
proper form; if, with a bad style, he is fairly fast and steady, and is
good at jumping, he would with a good style be exceptionally so.
Among the Scandinavians or the best continental runners, no one would
be considered at all good on skis unless he more or less fulfilled
the above definition. Among English runners, I am sorry to say, the
standard, not only of performance, but of criticism, is far lower,
and although there are by this time many Englishmen who are capable
tourists and mountaineers on skis, there are almost none who can be
called good runners in the above sense, or who can be compared with
the best continental runners even, while to compare them with the best
Scandinavians would be ludicrous.
Among the English at Swiss winter-places a man is often spoken of
as "good at ski-ing" for no better reason than that he spends most
of his time on skis and has climbed several hills on them, or has
crossed several passes; while if it is known that, as a rule, he gets
through a day's run without falling, he is sure to be considered a
most accomplished ski-runner. Quite as reasonably might a man gain a
reputation for fine horsemanship simply through being able to make long
journeys on horseback without falling off or getting exhausted. Just as
the latter may easily be a poor horseman, so may the former be a very
poor ski-runner; the fact that he may happen to be a great mountaineer
gives him no more claim to the title of a fine ski-runner than does the
fact of his being a fine ski-runner to the title of a great mountaineer.
If asked his opinion of some such champion, a good Swiss runner will
usually answer tactfully, "He is good, for an Englishman." The full
value of this compliment can only be appreciated by some one who, like
myself, has overheard Swiss runners criticise an exhibition of unusual
awkwardness and timidity on the part of one of their own countrymen in
the words, "He runs like an Englishman."
It would be very nice to think that jealousy of our prowess in ski-ing
made them talk like this, but that, unfortunately, is out of the
question.
The fact is that most English runners seem to be perfectly contented
with just so much skill as will enable them to get up and down a hill
at a moderate speed and without many falls. Having acquired this, they
give up practising altogether, and devote the rest of their ski-ing
lives to making tours, never attempting to become really fast or
skilful runners or to go in for jumping, even in its mildest form.
It is rather curious that this should be the case, for most English
ski-runners are young and active men, accustomed to other sports and
games, who, I suppose, take up ski-running at least as much for its own
sake as with the object of using it as an aid to mountain-climbing and
touring.
Surely, then, one might reasonably expect that a fair number of them
would become really fine runners, that nearly all of them would try to,
and that even those who had no ambition to excel in the sport for its
own sake would be anxious to increase their efficiency as mountaineers
or tourists, and would therefore, at the very least, try to run in
good style; for good style, in ski-running as in every other game or
athletic sport, means economy of muscular force, which is surely an
important consideration to the mountaineer.
Most good Swiss runners, I am sure, think that the Englishman is
constitutionally incapable of becoming really good on skis. To me,
at any rate, it is by no means surprising that they should think so,
for, taking any average pair of ski-runners, Swiss and English, who
are about equally matched in age, physique, and ski-ing experience,
even if there be little to choose between them in the matter of skill,
there is in one respect a very marked difference--the Englishman nearly
always running more slowly and cautiously and altogether with less
dash than the Swiss. In fact, not to put too fine a point upon it,
the Englishman, as compared with the Swiss, generally shows what an
unsympathetic critic might call a distinct tendency to funk.
How English and Swiss ski-runners compare, in this respect, with those
of other countries I have had no opportunity of judging, but that,
when compared with each other, there is this difference between them
must be obvious to any impartial observer. If the Englishman's lack of
dash arises entirely from poorness of nerve, he is, of course, very
heavily handicapped, though not, perhaps, hopelessly so, for patience,
determination, and careful training will do wonders in the improvement
of bad nerve. I should like, however, to think that there may be some
more flattering explanation of this phenomenon--I have, for instance,
heard it said that the fact that most Englishmen are unaccustomed to
steep slopes may have something to do with it--but I must confess that,
so far, I have not hit upon one that entirely satisfies me.
I have heard two excuses given (by Englishmen) for the low standard of
English ski-ing as compared with Swiss. One is that the Englishman gets
less practice than the Swiss. This is a mistake. The average English
runner perhaps gets only three or four weeks each winter, but the
average Swiss gets no more, for he has his work to do, and though he
spends his winter in the snow he usually only goes ski-ing on Sundays.
The best Swiss runners no doubt are usually guides, or men who spend
most of their time in the winter on skis; but this is not always so,
and I know more than one first-class Swiss runner who gets little more
than one day a week. Among English runners the proportion of those
who spend most of their winter on skis is much greater than among the
Swiss; yet there are now many really first-rate Swiss runners, but, as
I have said, hardly any English ones.
The other excuse is that most English ski-runners have taken up the
sport comparatively late in life.
No doubt they have, and so, for that matter, have many of the
continental runners--and a few of the best of them. But to begin late
is much less of a handicap than might be imagined, for a man may become
a skilful ski-runner without possessing any of the characteristics of
extreme youth.
That is to say that, provided he has a fair stock of intelligence,
patience, and nerve (and a good teacher), he need have no special
aptitude for picking up the knack of unaccustomed movements, nor need
he have more than ordinary strength and activity.
The games and sports which are most difficult to learn late in life
are those which call for "knack"--in other words, the ability to
perform easily a rapid and accurate co-ordinated movement of a number
of muscles. If this movement is an unaccustomed one, the ability to
perform it properly is only attainable by long practice.
The action of throwing, for instance, requires knack. It is this which
makes it so difficult to learn to throw with the left hand, even though
one already has the ability to move the left arm with quite sufficient
strength and speed, and not only knows how the movement should be
made, but even _how it feels_ to make it with the other hand. Writing
is another excellent example of knack.
In ski-running nothing which can strictly be called knack comes
into play. In this sport the _voluntary_ muscular movements (as
distinguished from the involuntary ones used in keeping the balance)
are neither complicated nor unusual, and, except in jumping, they need
seldom be rapid. Any difficulty in learning them is due partly to the
disturbing effect on one's clear-headedness of the speed at which one
is travelling, and partly to the fact that some of the movements,
though simple in themselves, are almost the reverse of those one's
natural instinct would prompt one to make in the circumstances. This
difficulty, of course, diminishes with practice, but an effort of will
goes just as far as, or even farther than practice towards overcoming
it. Were it not for this difficulty, a man who had been told the right
way to perform the various manoeuvres employed in ski-ing might very
well do them fairly correctly the first time he tried (as many people
actually do), while no amount of strength, activity, intelligence, or
confidence would enable him, if right-handed, to throw or to write
properly with his left hand without long practice.
The balancing difficulty is far less serious than is usually supposed.
It is the _unexpected_ movements of the skis which generally upset
the balance; and if one has a clear comprehension of the way in
which various combinations of gradient, speed, quality of snow, &c.,
affect their motion (see p. 74, &c.), one will seldom be taken by
surprise. Any one who can stand steadily on one leg, when not on skis,
for a quarter of a minute, without waving his other limbs about,
has sufficient sense of balance to become a first-rate ski-runner.
Intelligence and nerve--the latter including both coolness and
dash--are the main factors in good running. It is hard to say which is
the more important. Most of one's mistakes in ski-ing can perhaps be
traced to want of nerve, but the most perfect nerve will not compensate
for lack of intelligence. The intelligent man will soon see that there
is very little to be afraid of, that the risk of injury from falling
(on snow), even when running fast or alighting after a long jump, is
very slight, and that to run with confidence and dash will lessen
the danger rather than increase it. When he has thoroughly realised
this, the intelligent man, though his nerve may be none of the best,
will probably, if he has any determination, soon beat the absolutely
intrepid but stupid one.
Unless, then, we are to believe that a man loses most of his nerve,
intelligence and will-power with his first youth, there is nothing to
prevent him from learning to ski well when no longer very young.
My own belief is that the best excuse for the low standard of British
ski-running is ignorance and bad tuition.
A few English runners have learnt a good system of ski-ing; but these
have generally had bad teachers--Swiss guides, very likely, who, though
first-rate runners themselves, had more instinct than science, and were
quite incapable of imparting clearly to a beginner whatever knowledge
they possessed. The majority of English ski-runners have learnt a
thoroughly _bad_ system, and have very likely learnt at the same time
to believe that it is an exceptionally sound one.
The members of both these classes are, as a rule, profoundly ignorant
of what an expert can do on skis, of the real advantage of becoming an
expert--or, at any rate, as skilful as possible--and of the best way
to set about doing so.
There is no reason whatever why, with practice and good teaching, any
man should not become a fairly skilful runner; even if he cannot run
with great dash and speed, he can, at least, learn to do so in good
style, without--or practically without--any help from his stick.
Very few Englishmen try to do this; indeed, next to caution, the most
prominent characteristic of English ski-running is bad style.
Now nearly all the continental runners--certainly all the best
of them--have taken the Norwegians as their model, and have, in
consequence, aimed not only at running as fast and steadily, but also,
in one sense, as easily as possible; that is to say, with the least
muscular effort compatible with a perfect control of their skis, or, to
put it more simply, _in the best style_.
Most Englishmen, however, have learnt a very different method of
ski-ing. This system also teaches the beginner to run as easily as
possible, but in quite another sense. The whole aim of the system is to
dispense as far as possible with skill rather than with effort. That is
to say, it directly encourages bad style.
The system is the invention of an Austrian, Herr Zdarsky, who, having
never seen a ski-runner and knowing nothing about skis or their
management, got a pair from Norway, and reasoned out a method of using
them, eventually altering them to suit his method.
This was certainly a very surprising achievement, as every one will
agree who realises not only the practical difficulty of ski-running,
but the complication of its dynamics.
What is less surprising, when one remembers the origin of Zdarsky's
system, is that it teaches not one simple method of controlling the
skis that had not been discovered long before, and but few of those
that had been. It must in fact be regarded, not as a new and different
system, but as a small part of an old one--the whole Norwegian system
of ski-running.
The distinguishing features of Zdarsky's system are an almost exclusive
reliance on the snow-plough position (or an approximation to it), for
either braking, turning, or stopping, a deliberate use of the stick to
assist these manoeuvres and to help the balance on all occasions, an
extreme dislike to going fast, and, in general, a pronounced tendency
to avoid difficulties of balance rather than to overcome them, and to
encourage timidity as well as clumsiness.
The main object of Zdarsky's system is to enable a beginner to run
safely on steep and difficult ground with the least possible
preliminary practice; and so far, no doubt, it is successful. But its
very weakness is what makes it successful, for it turns out ski-runners
quickly by allowing them to run badly. It is the very worst school for
a beginner who takes up ski-ing no less for its own sake than as a
means to an end, for if he begins in this way, sooner or later he will
have to alter his methods entirely, and get rid of a lot of bad habits
which he would never have acquired if he had, from the outset, learnt
his ski-ing in the Norwegian manner.
To become a fairly proficient stick-riding and zigzagging crawler is a
very simple matter; but to get beyond this point, and, discarding the
help of the stick, to learn an _equally safe_ but considerably quicker
and more comfortable style of running, is impossible without devoting
some time and pains to practising, though far less of both than is
usually supposed.
Every one, of course, has a perfect right to choose the style of
ski-ing that suits him best. If a man looks upon ski-running simply as
a means of locomotion, or if he dislikes the trouble of practising, or
has exceptionally poor nerve, or is extraordinarily clumsy, he will
very likely be perfectly satisfied with a slow stick-riding system, and
will quite reasonably refuse to try anything else. So far there is no
harm done.
Unfortunately, however, many of those who choose this primitive method
of ski-ing make the absurd mistake of thinking that their method is a
particularly sound and practical one, and delude the innocent novice
into thinking the same.
Realising that without the stick they themselves would be helpless,
they say that its help is indispensable for safe running. Anything
which they cannot do themselves, such as running with the skis together
so as to leave a single track; turning or stopping by a free use of
the different swings, &c., instead of by their own dreadful imitation
of the Stemming turn and Christiania; fast straight-running; jumping,
and so on, they condemn as showy, unsafe, and of no practical use,
and class under the general heading of "fancy tricks." The absurdity
of this standpoint will be patent to any one who knows the immense
superiority of good running to bad, as regards ease, sureness, and
speed.
Let us compare ski-running with horsemanship. Just as the ski-runner
undoubtedly finds it easier at first to run with the aid of the stick
than without, so the man who mounts a horse for the first time will
certainly find it a good deal easier to keep in the saddle if he holds
on to it by the pommel or cantle. I believe, however, that there is no
school of horsemanship which advocates this method of riding as being
particularly practical.
The reasons against the use of the stick as an aid to the balance in
ski-running are much the same as those against using the saddle for the
same purpose in riding. There is a waste of energy in each case, for
it is doing clumsily by brute force what can be done more comfortably,
gracefully, and effectively by skill. Moreover, the balance, when
helped in this way, never improves, but remains permanently bad.
Correct position, narrow track, complete command of the different
swings--all those things, in fact, which distinguish good style from
bad--mean economy of force, and are therefore eminently practical. To
say that jumping is a useless accomplishment may at first sight appear
justifiable. In one sense there is not much practical use in jumping,
for occasions are not very often met with in the course of a tour where
a jump is the only way, or even the safest way, out of a difficulty.
But in another sense jumping is extremely practical. It accustoms a
runner to moving at the highest possible speed, and shows him that he
need not mind taking a fall at this speed; moreover, to quote from Mr.
Richardson's excellent jumping chapter in "The Ski-Runner," "the first
thing which a jumper has to learn is how to keep calm and collected and
to make up his mind instantly what to do next when travelling at top
speed--just the very things, in fact, which he must learn if he wants
to be a good cross-country runner. For these reasons it is the very
best and quickest way of generally improving a man's running."
A very common attitude of Englishmen towards ski-jumping is to treat it
as a showy and dangerous acrobatic display, all very well for reckless
and athletic youths, but out of the question for any one else. Yet I
suppose that among the men who take up this attitude there are many who
ride to hounds, and very few who, though they may not themselves hunt,
would dream of attributing to men or even women who do so either undue
recklessness or unusual acrobatic ability.
Though there may be a doubt as to whether making a jump of moderate
length on skis or riding a horse over a fence is the more difficult
feat, there can be none whatever as to which is the more dangerous.
Ski-jumping, indeed, is so safe that perhaps it could hardly lay
claim to the title of a great sport but for the fact that it is not
only difficult, but also exceedingly, if unreasonably, alarming--at
all events to the beginner. It seems strange that so many able-bodied
English ski-runners never so much as give jumping a trial, unless they
have an altogether wrong idea of its danger.
I spoke just now of the ignorance which made many bad runners condemn a
better style of ski-ing than their own. It is not easy, at first sight,
to see why this ignorance as to the comparative advantages of good and
bad running should be so common as it is, for at most of the Swiss
winter places there are among the natives some really good performers.
The English, however, get few opportunities of watching the Swiss
runners, except on the jumping hill, and seldom see them doing their
best across country, for these men, unless they happen to be guides, do
most of their ski-ing with their own countrymen, the members of their
own local ski-club.
Moreover, a good ski-runner is not seen at his best when acting as a
guide, for he has to go slowly, and look after the weaker members of
the party, and there is no element of competition to put him on his
mettle.
Whatever may be the reason, the fact remains that the average British
ski-runner has little or no idea of the superiority of good running to
bad as regards safety, comfort, and speed--to say nothing of interest
or beauty. He would probably be surprised and somewhat sceptical if
told that by learning a good style of ski-ing he would find it possible
to do the downhill portion of his tours in about half the time (or
less), with half the fatigue, with just as few falls (if he wished
to avoid them), and with far less chance of hurting himself when he
did fall--for bad style means awkward falls; that he would thus get
infinitely more pleasure, interest, and excitement out of his ski-ing,
and that, moreover, by going in for jumping he would still further
increase all these benefits without increasing his risks.
I hope that by means of this rather rambling discourse I may have
managed, not only to show what, in my opinion, are the reasons for the
low standard of English ski-ing, but at the same time to implant a
conviction of sin in the conscience of the average English ski-runner.
The object of the rest of this book is to show him what, to my
thinking, is the way of salvation, and to place the innocent novice in
the path of virtue at the very outset.
EQUIPMENT
THE SKI
_The Wood._--Skis are usually made of ash, which is, perhaps, on the
whole, a more suitable wood than any other. Hickory is excellent,
but is said to be more brittle than ash, and is also heavier. It is,
however, but little heavier than the _best_ ash, for in the latter wood
lightness means bad quality. The wood must be well seasoned, and as
free as possible from knots, especially near the bend and the binding,
though small knots which do not extend through the whole thickness of
the ski cannot do much harm.
The grain of the wood should be wide and well marked. The way it runs
in the ski is most important; it should run parallel with the long axis
of the ski throughout its length, above all at the front bend and the
binding; for if the grain run out at these points, the ski will be very
liable to break there. If anywhere else the grain runs out at all, see
that it does so in such a way that the lines on the _side_ of the ski
run backwards and downwards (Fig. 1, A), not forwards and downwards
(Fig. 1, B).
[Illustration: FIG. 1. Cross-grain; in A it does not much matter, as it
only occurs at some distance from the binding and points backwards; B
is very bad.]
If the lines of grain on the _sole_ of the ski run across at all
instead of parallel to the sides, the ski, when it gets rather worn,
will not run straight. If, of a pair of skis, one runs to the right and
one to the left, it does not much matter, for in that case the former
can be put on the left foot and the latter on the right; they will then
merely keep together and hold each other straight.
But if both skis run off to the _same_ side there is nothing to be
done, so look carefully at the grain of the sole when choosing them, to
see that there is no chance of this (Fig. 2).
[Illustration: FIG. 2. Cross-grain on running surface: A converging,
not very serious; B parallel, very bad.]
There is one more point to be noticed about the arrangement of the
grain in the ski.
If you look at the _heel end_ of the ski, you will generally see the
grain disposed in vertical lines, as in Fig. 3, B. The ski will not
only be stronger and more springy, but will wear better and run faster
if cut so that the grain lies horizontally (Fig. 3, C).[1] Fig. 3, A
shows a disposition of the grain which is likely to weaken the ski and
should be avoided.
[Illustration: FIG. 3. A bad, B good, C still better.]
The colour of a ski is a matter of taste. Dark colours have the
disadvantage of causing the snow which collects on the top of the ski
to melt more readily; it may then refreeze and accumulate, forming an
unnecessary load of ice.
A dark colour also makes it more difficult to detect faults in the
grain, and it is wiser for this reason to buy plain varnished skis, and
colour them afterwards if you want them darker.
New skis should be given several coats of boiled linseed oil, each
being allowed to sink in before the next is applied. When at last
the wood will absorb no more, give it a coat of _raw_ linseed oil;
this dries hard, with a surface just rough enough for easy climbing,
but slippery enough to make waxing unnecessary, except for the very
stickiest snow. The more often skis are oiled, even when in use, the
better.
_Dimensions._--When you are standing with your arm stretched at full
length above your head, the ski, placed upright, should be at least
long enough for its tip to reach the roots of your fingers; it may well
reach a few inches beyond the finger-_ends_.
The longer the ski the pleasanter you will find it for
straight-running. On a long ski you keep your balance more easily, run
more smoothly on rough ground, and keep a straight course with less
trouble. A short ski is slightly easier for turning, but if you learn
correct methods of turning, the difference is insignificant; and in
any case, however much you may twist and turn, you are bound for the
greater part of the time to be running straight, and you might as well
do so as comfortably as possible.
[Illustration: FIG. 4.]
The ski should be as narrow as possible, hardly more than 2-3/4 inches
(7 centimetres) at the narrowest part--_i.e._ where the foot rests on
it--even for the biggest man.
If it measures 2-3/4 inches in width at the narrowest part, it should
be about 3-3/4 inches wide at the front bend, and just over 3 inches at
the heel.
A narrow ski is in every way better than a wide one; the only object
of increasing the width of a ski is to make its bearing surface on the
snow proportionate to the weight of a heavier man, and so to prevent it
from sinking more deeply and therefore running more slowly. But this
should be done by increasing the length rather than the width.
The beginner usually imagines that the wider the ski the more easily
he will be able to balance on it. This is a great mistake. A narrow
ski is far steadier than a wide one for straight running; it is easier
for turning, and infinitely more comfortable for moving across a steep
slope of hard snow, the diminished leverage putting less strain on the
ankles, as the diagram shows.[2]
[Illustration: FIG. 5.]
The thickness of the ski is proportionate to its elasticity and the
weight of the runner, being about 1-1/4 inches at the binding and 3/8
inch at the front bend and the heel. A stiff ski runs rather less
comfortably than a thinner and more flexible one, but it is safer to
choose a ski of ample thickness near the binding, especially if it is
to be used for jumping.
The turn up at the front of the ski should begin at about one-fifth of
the distance from the tip to the heel end. _It should be very gradual_,
for a sudden bend makes the ski run more slowly and far less smoothly.
The under side of the tip need not be more than five inches above the
ground.
There is a slight upward arch between the front bend and the heel. It
should be no more than 3/4 of an inch high at its highest point, below
the heel of the boot, only just sufficient to prevent the ski when
resting on soft snow from bending downwards in the middle under the
weight of the runner. The height of this arch should therefore vary
slightly according to the length and stiffness of the ski, and to the
runner's weight.
Of course any twist in the ski will prevent it from running true. A
simple way of making sure that a ski is free from any such twist is
as follows: draw a few lines across its sole, at right angles to a
line down the middle of it, and, holding the ski so that a very much
fore-shortened view of the sole is obtained, see if all these lines are
parallel.
Nothing is more uncomfortable and difficult to run on than a ski which
has become warped and has a downward bend in the middle. To prevent
this happening and to preserve the upward arch, a pair of skis, when
not in use, should be placed sole to sole and bound together at the
front bend and the heel, with a block of wood about 1-3/4 inches thick
put between them 8 inches or so behind the binding, just where the
boot-heel rests on the ski.
Most skis are made with a groove running along the middle of the sole
from the front bend to the heel. This groove greatly increases the
ski's steadiness in straight-running, and on no account should be
omitted. A smooth-soled ski makes turning easier for the runner _who
has not learnt the right way to do it_, but this slight advantage by
no means compensates for the wobbliness in straight-running which it
entails. If you want easy steering, choose extra-_flexible_ skis, but
_not_ grooveless or extra-short ones.
Most of the ordinary foot-bindings are fixed to the ski by means of a
hole bored from side to side through its thickest part. See that this
hole is made almost entirely in the upper half of the ski's thickness,
well away from the sole. When lifted by a strap passed through this
hole, the ski should point downwards at an angle of about 45 degrees.
In order that they shall be stronger in relation to their weight and
less flexible, skis are sometimes made with a convex, instead of a flat
upper-surface. The increased stiffness makes them less comfortable for
ordinary running but safer for jumping. The convexity should always
stop short of the beginning of the front bend.
Fig. 6 shows that it depends on how this convexity is obtained as to
whether and how it is an advantage or otherwise. Supposing the wood in
each case to be of exactly the same quality, B will obviously be not
only stiffer but heavier than A, C will be stiffer but no heavier, D
will be equally stiff but lighter. It is evident, then, that one cannot
say off-hand that the convex shape is either better or worse than
the flat, but only that, _weight for weight_, the convex shape gives
greater stiffness and strength, the flat gives more elasticity.
[Illustration: FIG. 6.]
_The Binding._--The question of the binding, by which the ski is
fastened to the foot, is a very vexed one; I shall treat it as shortly
as I can.
The binding should, if possible, fulfil the following conditions:--
(1) It should be light; (2) should be easily adjusted to fit the boot;
(3) should admit of being quickly and easily fastened and unfastened;
(4) should be difficult to break and easy to mend; (5) should allow
fairly free vertical movement of the foot, but limit its lateral
movement enough to make steering easy; (6) should be comfortable, and
not likely to injure the runner in case of a fall.
There are innumerable forms of binding on the market, not one of which
is absolutely satisfactory in every respect; the choice of a binding is
largely a matter of taste. But, though it is not possible to say that
any one binding is the best, it is possible to say that certain forms
are more generally popular than others. The reader who is not a novice
probably knows all there is to be said for and against the more common
forms; while to give a long description of several kinds of bindings,
setting forth their various good and bad points, would be more likely
to confuse a novice than to help him to choose one that suited him. I
shall therefore describe one binding only, the Huitfeldt, which is by
far the most generally popular one, especially in Norway, and shall
show how it answers to the above-mentioned requirements.
The Huitfeldt binding (Fig. 7) consists of an iron, leather-lined
toe-piece which is passed through the hole in the ski and bent up at
each side; a short strap passing over the toes and connecting the ends
of the metal toe-piece; and a long strap which passes through the hole
in the ski and round the heel of the boot.
[Illustration: FIG. 7. Huitfeldt binding, with Ellefsen clamp X (left
foot).]
A third strap, which passes under the waist of the boot, prevents the
heel-strap from slipping up the side of the foot, as it is sometimes
inclined to do when the heel is much raised; and a fourth strap,
crossing the foot behind the toe-strap, prevents the heel-strap from
slipping under the boot sole at the side. The heel-strap, however, will
often be found to keep in place perfectly without these two straps,
or, at any rate, without the latter, and in that case there is no
object in keeping them on the binding.
The ski is fastened on and taken off without buckling or unbuckling the
straps when once they have been properly adjusted. In order to put on
the ski, simply push the foot well home between the toe-irons, and then
pull the heel-strap up over the boot-heel.
The toe-strap may be quite loose; the heel-strap must be so tight that
it is only just possible to force it over the boot-heel.
The toe-irons must be hammered or bent (a heavy screw-wrench is useful
for this) to fit the sole of the boot exactly, so that when the boot is
pushed home between them the centre of the heel lies in the very middle
of the ski. This means that for boots of an ordinary shape the inside
toe-iron must be more nearly parallel to the side of the ski than the
outside one, as in diagram; otherwise the boot-heel will rest on the
inner side of the ski (Fig. 8).
If the toe-irons show any tendency to wobble, small wooden wedges may
be driven between them and the side of the cavity in the ski, but by
the _sides_ of the toe-irons, not _below_ them, or the ski may split.
The toe-irons should be so adjusted that when the boot is pushed right
home the toe only projects a little way beyond the toe-strap (see Fig.
7). If the toe-strap crosses the foot too far back, it does not allow a
free enough movement when the heel is raised, and in a fall forward may
sprain the foot.
If the fastening fits properly there should be enough freedom to allow
the knee just to touch the front of the ski.
[Illustration: FIG. 8. A A right, B B wrong positions for toe-irons
(left ski).]
In order to prevent the heel-strap from slipping off the boot, the heel
of the boot should be made to project at the back, both top and bottom
of the projection being rounded to allow of the strap being easily
pulled on and off (see Fig. 9, p. 41). This is a better and a simpler
arrangement than the strap and buckle at the back of the heel with
which ski-boots are often fitted.
The heel-strap should be bent first _downwards_ and then backwards
on each side of the ski, so that the side of it which is uppermost
within the cavity of the ski becomes outermost round the foot. This
arrangement increases the tension when the heel rises.
It is most important that the heel-strap should be very tight, for
its tension not only limits the vertical movement of the foot, and so
makes it possible to lift the heel of the ski, but also, by keeping the
boot firmly jammed between the toe-irons, prevents nearly all lateral
movement, and so makes steering easy.
The heel-strap consists of two parts; the back part should be fitted
with a metal lever called "The Ellefsen Shortening Clamp" (Fig. 7, X).
Opening and closing this lever lengthens and shortens the heel-strap;
the strap is buckled so that with the lever open it will just pass over
the projection on the boot-heel; it can be thoroughly tightened up,
when on, by the closing of the lever.
This lever should be so fitted on the heel-strap that it comes on the
outside of the heel near the back.
The advantages of the Huitfeldt binding are as follows:--
It is very light. If fitted with the shortening lever it can be put on
and taken off in a second or two. It is not easily broken, and is not
difficult to mend. If properly fitted, it limits the movement of the
foot enough to give ample steering power. It is quite comfortable, and
is most unlikely to injure the foot even in the worst fall.
Its disadvantages are that great care is needed to adjust the toe-irons
so as exactly to fit the boot, and keep it in the middle of the ski;
and that the heel-strap is rather quickly worn at the points where it
rubs against the edges of the toe-irons. This wearing, however, can be
diminished by filing down the sharp edges of the toe-iron where they
touch the strap, and by occasionally pulling the strap through the hole
in the ski far enough to expose another part of it to the friction.
Another slight drawback lies in the fact that the heel-strap, where
it projects on each side of the ski, diminishes the speed somewhat by
brushing against the snow; but this is hardly worth mentioning.
On the whole, then, the Huitfeldt binding has more good points than bad
ones, and is just as likely to suit the beginner permanently as any of
the other bindings, if he is obliged to buy his skis at the outset.
If he is able to try two or three different bindings before making his
choice, he no doubt will do so; but it is not likely that he will fully
understand the pros and cons of any good binding until he has given it
a longish trial, and has a fair practical knowledge of ski-running.
In any case, I strongly advise him not to worry too much on the subject
of bindings. With all, except the very worst and least widely used
bindings, it is possible to learn to ski well, _provided they fit
properly_.
He should be careful to see that the middle of the heel rests naturally
on the middle of the ski; that the foot has enough vertical freedom
to allow the knee just to touch the ski in front, but _not_ enough
to allow it to touch without considerable tension; and that the
lateral movement of the foot is very limited. If these conditions are
fulfilled, the binding will be comfortable, safe, and will give ample
steering power.
In the Huitfeldt binding and several others of the same type, the
steering power and control of the ski is obtained by the tension
between the heel-strap and toe-irons. There is another type in
which this power is obtained by a false sole, generally made of
driving-belting, which is fixed to the ski under the toe of the boot
and is free at the heel end. This system gives greater, or even
absolute lateral rigidity, and is therefore more likely to injure the
foot.
The most widely used forms of this type of binding are the Ellefsen,
a very good binding; the Black Forest or Balata binding, in which the
false sole is fitted with a socket for the heel, a great favourite
with shopkeepers who hire out skis, because, without adjustment, it
will fit anyone somehow--generally badly; and the Lilienfeld binding,
an Austrian invention, made almost completely of metal, and giving
absolute lateral rigidity, but unsuitable for jumping and disliked by
most good runners.[3] Absolute lateral rigidity is not only dangerous,
but is quite unnecessary for a runner who has learnt, or who means
to learn, correct methods. For in braking or steering, when properly
done, the effect is produced by the distribution of the weight, and
by vertical pressure on the ski rather than by forcibly twisting or
pushing it sideways.
With any binding on the Huitfeldt principle it is necessary to wear a
boot with a wide-welted sole which is double throughout its length, in
order that it may not buckle at the waist of the foot under the strain
of the heel-strap.
The part of the ski on which the foot rests should be covered by a
thin plate of some such metal as brass or tin, which does not oxidise
readily. This protects the ski if nailed boots are worn, and prevents
snow from accumulating in an uncomfortable lump under the foot. If the
boots have no nails, or if the binding has a false sole, a plate of
celluloid or linoleum is sufficient.
_The Stick._--The ski-runner carries either one or two sticks. He uses
them to increase his pace on level ground, or when running down a
gentle slope; to help him in walking uphill; to steady him when turning
while standing on a slope; and possibly, on very rare occasions, to
help to check his pace.
To use them while on the move, either as a help to the balance or for
steering, is the mark of a bad runner.
The sticks (for two are more useful than one) should be light; cane or
hazel is the usual wood. They should be long enough to reach two or
three inches above the elbow, when resting on the snow.
At the top the stick is provided with a leather loop to support the
hand while punting. At the other end it is shod with a metal spike, a
few inches above which a movable disc, generally made of wicker, is
attached to prevent the stick from sinking into the snow. Choose some
disc attachment which does _not_ involve the passing of a thong through
a hole in the stick, for one of that sort wears out very soon.
CLOTHING
_Boots._--In order to avoid frost-bite, to the risk of which the
ski-runner is often exposed, the boots must be stout, flexible,
waterproof, and exceedingly loose--large enough, in fact, to hold two
pairs, at any rate, of the very thickest stockings without the least
pressure, especially on the toes. Boots made on the Norwegian "Laupar"
principle are particularly good _only_ in the respect of giving the
toes perfect freedom.
[Illustration: FIG. 9. Boot showing rounded projection on heel; sole of
uniform thickness from toe to beginning of heel; and metal plates (X)
to prevent wear of toe-iron.]
The heel must be very low, and, as explained above, it should be made
to project at the back to prevent the heel-strap from slipping off, if
the binding has one. For a binding of the Huitfeldt type the sole must
be thick, not only at the ball of the foot, but at the waist; it should
have a widish welt to prevent the toe-irons from pressing against the
foot.[4]
Where the toe-irons touch the side of the sole, they are apt to wear
a hollow, and the boot then works gradually forwards. This can be
prevented by screwing thin plates of metal to the side of the sole
at this point. To enable the toe-irons to hold the boot as steady as
possible, it is better that the sides of the sole should be rather
straight (though not parallel) than curved.
The boots should be greased or oiled often enough to keep them quite
soft and flexible.
Some form of felt or canvas boot-cover is a great safeguard against
frost-bite, which is a danger that can by no means be overrated.
Whether the boots shall be nailed or not is a matter of taste. Nails
cut the skis and make the snow ball between them and the boots.
Boots with no nails at all make climbing an icy path on foot rather
troublesome. If no nails are worn, climbing irons can be carried to
strap on to the boot for walking on icy places. Most people wear a few
_small_ nails, though many (myself included) wear none. A complete
rubber sole (which grips on ice but picks up no snow) might work even
better than the "Scafe" rubber studs; but I know these are good.
_Stockings._--As I have said, two or three pairs of stockings should
be worn. However waterproof the boot, it is impossible to keep the
stockings perfectly dry owing to the condensation of water vapour from
the foot which takes place on the inner surface of the boot. In severe
cold this wet layer freezes, and should therefore be kept as far as
possible from the foot. It is useless, however, to fill the boot with
stockings to such an extent as to cause pressure on the foot and check
the circulation, for this is even more likely to cause frost-bite than
is insufficient covering.
Most ski-runners wear a pair of the thickest ordinary stockings, or
socks, and over this a pair of goat's-hair socks which are more than
twice as thick. These goat's-hair socks (or what are generally sold as
such) wear badly, and a pair of socks of the same thickness, but made
of wool, seem just as warm.
Spare socks should always be carried on long expeditions in case the
pair next the feet should get wet through.
_Gloves._--These are an important item. They should be of mitten-shape,
with a bag for the fingers, and should have a gauntlet-shaped arm long
enough to pull well over the sleeve. Like the boots, they must be
roomy. Felt or wool is the usual material.
A canvas outer covering makes them less liable to get wet through, for
the snow sticks to it less. It is always difficult, however, to keep
them dry, and a spare pair is often as necessary as spare socks.
_Cap._--Some kind of cap which can at least be pulled down over the
ears, if not over the neck and chin, is indispensable. As an addition
or substitute, an ample scarf or muffler is useful, especially,
perhaps, for women.
No hat-brim protects the eyes sufficiently to be the least safeguard
against snow-blindness. Dark glasses should always be carried,
especially above the tree-line, and should be put on the _instant_ that
any discomfort is felt from the glare.
_Outer Clothing._--This should be as nearly windproof as possible, and
should have a smooth surface, for if it be hairy the snow will stick
to it, and, when that melts, the clothes will become soaked. For this
reason a sweater is not satisfactory as the outermost garment on a long
expedition.
Any clothing which cannot be removed during a climb should be fairly
light and not too hot, for climbing is often excessively hot work.
A moderately stout whipcord is perhaps as good a material as anything.
In order to keep out the snow the collar of a coat should be made to
button close round the neck, and the sleeves round the wrists.
The pockets should have large flaps to button. Most English runners
clothe themselves, as to the legs, in breeches and puttees, which are
a very efficient means of keeping out the snow. Leather gaiters are
useless.
Until recently most Norwegians used to wear rather close-fitting
trousers which buttoned tightly round the ankles inside the boots, and
a sort of very short puttee round the tops of the boots themselves. For
warmth, comfort, and simplicity this system seems hard to beat.
All the foregoing remarks as to boots, stockings, gloves, caps, and
material, of course, apply equally to women's clothing.
Whether in addition to snowproof knickerbockers and puttees a woman
shall wear a skirt is, of course, a matter of taste or strength of
mind. In Germany and Austria most lady ski-runners dispense with it.
If a skirt is worn it is particularly important that both it and the
knickerbockers shall be of very smooth texture, otherwise the snow
which works up between them in a fall will not shake out again, but
will accumulate in large quantities and soak the clothes in melting.
The shorter the skirt, the better as regards comfort. Even a skirt
which only just covers the knees will touch the snow during manoeuvres
which involve a semi-kneeling position.
As to appearance, I can assure any one who is distressed at the
apparent size of her feet and ankles when properly clad that a longish
skirt makes them far more conspicuous than a very short one; a skirt
long enough to hide them completely is, of course, out of the question.
If the thick goat's-hair or woollen oversock goes some way up the leg
instead of stopping short just above the boot, and if the puttee is
thin and smooth instead of being about half an inch thick and woolly, a
less gloomy outlook on life will perhaps be induced.
_Underclothing._--Climbing a hill on skis is generally very hot work,
but one is often exposed to the most bitter cold on the top, especially
when the sun is hidden, or when wind and sunshine come from the
same quarter, and it is impossible to take shelter from the former
without losing the latter. This makes it very difficult to regulate
satisfactorily the thickness of one's clothing. On the whole, it is
perhaps better to wear fairly light underclothing, and to rely for
warmth mainly on outer garments which can be carried, instead of worn,
during the climb.
If light clothing is worn, two extra sweaters or cardigans may well be
carried. In this case they must never be forgotten, but must be carried
_always_, no matter what the weather may be, for it may change quickly
without the least warning, and, in any case, there is often a bitter
wind high up when the heat is almost tropical in the valley.
A windproof coat of thin oil-silk or of a kind of paper-cloth made by
a Paris firm, is a very good substitute for a spare sweater. It is
warmer, lighter, and takes up hardly any space.
* * * * *
The following things are very useful, some of them indispensable on a
long expedition. They can mostly be bought ready made, and I shall not
attempt a description where their application is obvious.
Wax, either in a block or a collapsible tube, which is used to prevent
wet snow from sticking to the ski. It is smeared on the ski and rubbed
in with a rag. It is better, if possible, to do this before starting
out; or, at any rate, to dry the ski first.
A good knife.
Some blunt instrument for scraping ice off the ski without injuring the
wood.
A metal ski-tip to fit on the ski, if the point is broken off and lost.
A few tools for mending a broken ski--gimlet, screw-driver, and punch
(unless the knife is fitted with these); perhaps also a hammer, saw,
and file. Small cases of tools with a common handle can be bought.
One or two small steel plates and pieces of sheet brass or zinc with
holes bored in them, and a few screws to fit them; or a clamp[5]
consisting of two metal plates connected by two bolts with wing-nuts.
Fig. 10 shows how these may be used to mend a broken ski.
[Illustration: FIG. 10. Ski mended with (A) metal plates, (B) clamp.]
Spare parts of the binding itself may be carried in case it breaks, and
a thong of raw hide about two yards long, with a loop at one end, is
often useful.
This thong, when used as a substitute for the Huitfeldt heel-strap,
constitutes what is known as the Lapp binding. This is a most firm and
comfortable binding, especially for jumping, but since it cannot be
adjusted quickly nor with gloved hands, is unsuitable for occasions
which involve frequent taking off and putting on of the skis, or
exposure to extreme cold.
Fig. 11 explains the arrangement of the thong.
[Illustration: FIG. 11.]
When arranged as above so that it passes twice round the heel of the
boot, the thong is hauled perfectly taut and made fast.
This can be done in slightly different ways; I find the following a
satisfactory one. Arrange the thong so that, when it is pulled tight,
the points A B are about an inch in front of the heel of the boot, the
loop A being on the outside of the foot. Then pass the free end under
the waist of the foot, up across the thongs on the inner side, over the
instep, and back to A, finishing with a half-hitch round both parts of
the thong at A. If this half-hitch is made with the end of the thong
pushed through it in a bight, it can be pulled undone like a bow,
which is an advantage when the thong is frozen hard.
A few yards of strong cord, some string, and some brass wire are often
useful.
A ski may be prevented from slipping backwards in hill-climbing by
tying one end of a piece of cord to its tip, passing a few half hitches
round it at intervals, hauling all taut, and tying the other end of the
cord to the binding. This, however, makes it necessary to lift the ski
forward at each step instead of sliding it.
The only satisfactory preventive of back-slip is a strip of sealskin
fastened underneath the ski; this also prevents wet snow from sticking
to the ski, as it sometimes does in masses almost too heavy to lift.
To prevent back-slip a strip half the length of the ski is sufficient;
for sticky snow, however, it is of course better for the ski to be
quite covered. Which of the many forms of detachable sealskin in the
market work the best I am not competent to say, having so far managed
to do without it. There is no doubt that sealskin is a great labour
saver. With its help it is possible to climb so much more quickly than
without, that for long mountain tours it is almost indispensable.
Moreover, when it is used for the climb, the soles of the skis can be
kept polished or varnished to a degree of slipperiness that prevents
even the worst of sticky snow from being much hindrance during the run
down.
The rucksack, in which these things, spare clothing, food, &c., are
carried, should be very large, snowproof and strong, but not heavy. Its
straps should be wide at the shoulder and long.
About food, or the special equipment necessary for mountaineering, or
any other special application of ski-running, I shall not attempt to
speak, this book being only concerned with what is absolutely necessary
to the ski-runner _quâ_ ski-runner.
Those who wish for further information will find it in a vast number of
books on mountaineering proper, in Rickmers' "Ski-ing for Beginners and
Mountaineers," Richardson's "The Ski-Runner," Arnold Lunn's Alpine Ski
Club Guide-books, and in many books in other languages on ski-running
and kindred subjects; for instance, "Der Ski-lauf," by Paulcke (of
which a French translation, "Manuel de Ski," is published), and
Bilgeri's "Alpine Ski-lauf."
THE MANAGEMENT OF THE SKIS
ON THE LEVEL AND UPHILL
_Putting on Skis._--Lay the skis side by side on the snow.
In order to put on the right ski, place the _left_ foot on it just
behind the binding as in Fig. 12, the toe of the boot being on the
left side of the ski and the heel on the right. Your weight then holds
the ski steady while you push the right foot well home and fasten the
binding. Now lift the right foot and ski, stand them on the left ski in
a similar way, and fasten that to the foot.
[Illustration: FIG. 12.]
On a hillside lay the skis _across_ the slope; stand _below_ them, and
put on the _lower_ ski first, bringing the foot to it across the front
of the other leg.
_On the Level._--The ski-runner moves on the level with an action much
like that of ordinary walking, except that he does not lift his skis
from the snow, but slides them along it.
Hold your skis _exactly parallel_ and as close together as
possible--not more than two inches apart--and take a long, easy,
lunging step, keeping the knee of the advancing leg well over the foot,
and leaning the body well forwards (Plate I.).
Move the stick, or sticks, in time with the opposite leg, giving a
push at each, or at every alternate stride, according as you carry two
sticks or one.
Slide as far as you can after the advanced foot has received the
weight, and don't be in a hurry to bring forward the other one.
The body must be swayed slightly from side to side with each step in
order to balance it well over the ski which carries the weight.
If you wish to get up the greatest possible speed on the level with two
sticks, take three running--not sliding--steps, swinging the sticks
forwards with the first two, and, at the third, giving a push with both
sticks, followed by a long slide.
Then do the same again, starting with the other foot.
_Uphill._--If the gradient is very slight, you can slide straight
uphill in just the same way as on the level.
At a rather steeper gradient (the angle depending on the slipperiness
of the snow and the skis) you will still be able to move in the same
way, but without the extra forward slide after the weight has come on
to the advanced ski.
If the slope becomes still steeper you will find that the friction is
hardly enough to make the skis hold. The moment you feel they have a
tendency to slip backwards as the weight comes on them, walk as upright
as possible, even leaning slightly backwards, so as to bring the weight
on the heels and throw a little tension on the toe-strap. Shorten your
stride, and, instead of sliding the skis along the snow, lift their
points six inches or so into the air as you move them forwards (but do
not let their heel ends leave the snow), and bring them down again in
front of you with a gentle but decided stamp.
In making this stamping movement, take care, as you bring the foot
to the ground, to stamp it in a direction exactly at right angles to
the surface of the slope. The least suspicion of pawing backwards, or
lunging forwards, as the ski touches the snow is sure to make it slip.
By moving steadily and carefully in this way it is possible to walk up
an appreciably steeper gradient than the one at which the skis first
show a tendency to slip back. But it is no use attempting to struggle
or hurry; no amount of effort will help you, and if you cannot do it
easily you cannot do it at all.
If the gradient becomes any steeper than this--and except in the worst
conditions of sticky snow, the slope will still be quite gentle, the
skis will slip backwards in spite of all your care. At the first sudden
and unexpected back-slip instinct will prompt you to throw yourself
forward, strike out with the back foot, and make a sort of pawing
movement with the advanced one. If you do this, your skis will slip
from under you and you will fall on your nose. Do nothing of the sort,
therefore, but the moment the ski slips lean _right backwards_, with
a free swing of the body, at the same time lifting the slipping ski
quickly round behind the heel of, and to right angles with, the other
ski, to stop you (Plate II. p. 54). To proceed as before being now
impossible, you have the choice of three different methods: zigzagging,
herring-boning, and side-stepping.
_Zigzagging._--Turn more or less sideways to the hill and then move
forwards at a gradient just easy enough to prevent back-slipping. The
skis are held as close together as possible, and moved just as before;
but now, instead of being "flat" to the surface of the snow, they are
"edged" (cutting more deeply into it with the edges which are nearest
the hill) and one ski is more or less above the other, according to the
steepness of the slope.
If the surface is very hard and icy, and the skis cut in very little,
less than half their width may rest on the snow. In order to lessen the
muscular effort then needed to hold the ankles vertical (see p. 28)
press both _knees_, especially the lower one, well over towards the
hill.
Hold the sticks in each hand, and use them just as before, no matter
how steep the slope. If the slope be very steep, the stick on the
uphill side can be held shorter, but the two sticks should never
(except on a dangerous slope) be put together and held across the body
with both hands, as a climber holds his ice-axe. To do so will only
get you into a bad habit of leaning towards the hill and supporting
yourself with the stick, and will prevent you from balancing yourself
properly and walking freely.
If only one stick be used, it should be carried in the hand which is
nearest the hill.
If a steep slope is so hard and slippery that nothing will make the
edges of the skis grip, hold the point of each stick close against the
_downhill_ side of _each_ foot, move the sticks exactly in unison with
the feet, and dig their points hard into the crust at each step. This
gives a perfectly firm support for the skis and answers the purpose of
climbing-irons. It is, however, very seldom necessary.
Having found the steepest gradient which you can negotiate without
back-slipping, so adjust your course across the hill that this gradient
remains constant. That is to say, if you come to a spot which is
steeper--_no matter how slightly, or for how short a distance_--don't
dream of trying to move on to it without altering your course; but
instantly turn more sideways to the hill, so that although the
_direction_ of your course is altered its _gradient_ remains the same
as before. By this means only will you avoid falling on your nose, or,
at any rate, struggling and slipping uselessly.
Nothing is more common than to see a beginner making frantic efforts
to cross a short bit of steeper ground without altering his course. He
could attempt nothing more hopeless.
It is amazing how many exhausting struggles and falls are usually
needed to impress on a learner the fact that it is utterly impossible
for him to advance _even one single step_ on steeper ground--however
slight the difference in gradient may be--without altering his course.
Of course if the slope becomes _less_ steep, you turn less sideways to
the hill and mount it more directly.
[Illustration: FIG. 13.]
The diagram will, perhaps, help to explain the proper way of moving
uphill across ground of varying gradient.
It represents a slope with a steep-sided gully running down it. The
conformation of the ground is indicated by contour lines, as in a
map--_i.e._ imaginary horizontal lines running along the side of the
hill, with the same _vertical_ distance between each pair. Where, then,
the contour lines in the plan are far apart the slope is gradual, and
_vice versa_.
Since the direction of the fall of the slope is everywhere at right
angles with that of the contour lines, its _general_ direction only is
shown by the arrow; at either side of the gully its _local_ direction
is, of course, nearly at right angles to this.
AB is the track of an experienced ski-runner. Observe that (i) in
general shape the line AB resembles the contour lines; (ii) it never
cuts the same contour twice; (iii) when the contours are far apart it
cuts them at a blunter angle than when they are close together. In
other words, the expert (i) makes a détour at the gully; (ii) never
loses any height that he has once gained; (iii) moves steadily uphill
at a constant gradient, facing the hill _more_ directly where it is
_less_ steep, and _vice versa_.
AC is the track of a beginner. Trying to cut across directly towards B
he runs downhill into the gully, but, being of course unable to climb
straight up the steep slope on the far side in the direction of B, he
has to bear away to the right; and at C, when his track from A is quite
as long as the expert's at B, he is not nearly so far up the hill.
Remember that the variation of contour needs just as careful attention
in its smallest details as in its main features, and must be negotiated
in exactly the same way. In climbing in this way it is, of course,
impossible to go on continually keeping the same side to the slope
(unless the hill is perfectly conical in shape and quite free from
obstacles, allowing one to wind round it to the top in a spiral).
Having moved in one direction for a time, you will eventually have to
turn round and begin a fresh tack.
To shuffle round, as you might do on the level, is obviously
impossible; for, whether you do so facing up or downhill, the skis will
at a certain angle begin to run away.
The usual procedure is to make what is known as a kick-turn.
_The Kick-Turn._--Suppose that you have been traversing the slope with
the hill on your right side and wish to make a fresh tack. Stop with
your skis pointing uphill at the angle at which they have just been
moving, and your sticks resting close to each foot. Then put your
weight on the lower ski, and draw back the other, slightly bending the
upper knee and raising the heel (Plate III.). Now swing your right
leg from the hip vigorously forwards and upwards, straightening it
completely as it rises, and turning up the toe as hard as you can,
as though trying to make a very high kick. The leg _must be swung
freely_, not merely lifted. The result of this movement, if made with
confidence, will be to bring the ski to an upright position with its
heel resting in the snow close to the bend of the other (Plate IV.). If
there is any hesitation, the knee is sure to remain bent, and the toe
to point forward, the result of which will be that the heel of the ski
will catch in the snow before it has moved far enough to the front.
The position in Plate IV. is only momentary. As soon as the ski is
standing on end in the snow swing its point round to the right and
downwards, until the whole ski again rests on the snow, pointing uphill
in the _opposite direction_, but at the same angle as before (Plate
V.). During this movement the heel of the right ski remains in the snow
where it was placed at first, and acts as a pivot. The steeper and
more slippery the slope, and the less directly you have therefore been
climbing it, the narrower, obviously, will have to be the angle between
the skis in the position of Plate V., but, if your joints are normally
supple, it is only on very steep or icy slopes, when the skis have to
be brought nearly parallel, that you will find it much of a strain to
turn your feet and knees far enough outwards.
Next shift the whole weight over on to the upper leg, at the same
time straightening it and letting the other hang slightly bent; this
movement will lift the lower ski and stick just off the snow (Plate
VI.). Then _straightening the left knee and turning up the toe as hard
as possible_ (Plate VII., A), face towards the point of the right ski
and bring the left ski round to the side of it (Plate VIII.). This
time, however, make no attempt to kick or swing the leg, as you did
in turning the right ski, but _keep the left foot quite close to the
right as it moves round it_. The only difficulty here is to keep the
point of the ski from catching in the slope above you as it turns. On
a very steep slope, in order to avoid this, you will have to change
from the position of Plate VI. to that of Plate VIII. very quickly,
straightening the left knee and turning up the toe _with a sudden jerk_
as you do so, and also _lifting the left hip_ as much as you can. This
will for a moment throw up the _point_ of the left ski much higher than
if the movement were made slowly. But if you try to lift the _whole
ski_ high above the snow with knee bent and toe dropped, or to swing
the left leg away from the other, the point is nearly certain to catch
(Plate VII., B).
The left stick is moved round with the left ski, but the point of the
other stays in the same place throughout the turn; when only one stick
is carried it should, therefore, be held in the hand which, before the
turn, is the uphill one. The sticks of course help to steady you, but
you should be able to turn without any stick in your hand, and should
learn to do so as soon as you can.
Having reached the position of Plate VIII., you can, of course, begin
a fresh tack, at the end of which you can make another kick-turn by
reversing the words right and left in these directions.
The kick-turn, as I have described it, is made with three distinct
pauses at the positions of Plates IV., V., and VI. Instead, however,
of starting the turn by standing the upper ski on end and using its
heel as a pivot, it is quite possible to do so by just lifting it far
enough for its heel to clear the front of the standing leg, turning it
in the air, and bringing it directly to its final position on the snow
in one continuous movement. By then lifting the lower ski the instant
the other comes to rest, and turning it without any preliminary pause,
you can make the whole kick-turn so quickly that you hardly come to a
standstill between one tack and the next. On a steep slope, however,
it is always safer to begin by standing the upper ski on end before
turning it, as otherwise its point is apt to catch in the snow before
it has reached the proper new position.
There is another very convenient modification of the kick-turn which
can be performed without coming to a standstill at all.
As you come to the end of a tack with, say, your left side to the hill,
take a long step forward with your right foot, placing the right ski
in front of the other one, pointing it uphill as much as you can and
edging it inwards (Fig. 14, _1_). Then, throwing the weight momentarily
_against_ the right ski rather than _on_ it (for if you actually stand
on it it will slip backwards), take a wide step round to the left with
the left ski, putting it down so that it points as nearly as possible
in the direction of the new tack you are about to start, with its
heel quite close to the heel of the other ski (Fig. 14, _2_). As the
left ski comes to the snow, bring the right ski round beside it (Fig.
14, _3_) and walk on in the new direction. The whole process must be
carried out quickly and accurately, for if there is any hesitation
about the first two steps you are almost sure to slip backwards and
fall on your nose. It is, however, really very easy, except on the
steepest slopes, and is a great saving of time. The position in the
middle of the turn is much the same as in "Herring-boning," described
later (see Plate IX.). The sticks must be held up out of the way of the
skis.
[Illustration: FIG. 14.]
Another way of making the kick-turn is to go backwards through the
whole process first described. After finishing a tack to the right, for
instance, you can move successively through the positions of Plates
VII., A, VI., and V., and then lift the upper ski round to the position
of Plate III. By turning in this way, however, you lose a little
height instead of gaining it; this method is, therefore, rather more
suitable for _descending_ a hill in zigzags than for climbing it.
All the above ways of turning are known as _uphill_ turns because one
faces the hill during the process; it is also possible to make the
kick-turn facing _downhill_ by turning the _lower_ ski first. In order
to prevent strain in the intermediate position, this downhill turn
should be both started and finished with the skis pointing _downwards_
as much as possible (Fig. 15); this makes it particularly convenient
for joining two downhill tacks. It can also, of course, be made
backwards as well as forwards, with a slight consequent gain instead of
a loss of height. In a downhill kick-turn the skis have more room to
move freely, but the balance is much less steady than if one faces the
hill. On the whole, the forward uphill turn first described is far the
most useful, but when you want to turn in cramped corners, among trees
and the like, you will find it a great help to know several ways of
doing it.
[Illustration: FIG. 15. Downhill kick-turn.]
Although, as I have said, the skis need never be quite parallel at the
middle stage of the turn, you must take great care to bring the first
ski far enough round to prevent the least chance of its slipping. On a
steep or icy slope, where the skis at this stage must be brought nearly
parallel, the kick-turn becomes difficult for the stiff-jointed; I have
even known two cases in which it was apparently impossible. If, as is
highly unlikely, your case is similar, you can always roll round on
your back with your skis in the air--a simple but snowy process.
If you dislike this, and if, though the _joints_ of your legs are
stiff, the _muscles_ are strong and active (a not unusual combination),
you can as a last resource _jump_ round, facing downhill as you turn.
The main difficulty in this is to prevent the heels of the skis from
catching in the slope when halfway round, and the best way to prevent
them doing so is to jump as hard as possible not directly upwards,
but _out_ from the hill, so as to land _below_ where you take off.
In order to bring round the skis close beside each other, press the
_knees_ together throughout the jump. Hold the sticks near their
middles, and jump from the toes, not the flat of the foot, with a free
swinging action, not a hurried jerky one. This jump needs little skill
and is easy enough on a moderate slope, but on a steep one becomes very
hard work, for there the skis have less room to turn, and a powerful
spring is necessary. The jump round, therefore, being most difficult
under the same conditions as the kick-turn, and much more tiring, is
hardly a satisfactory substitute for it; I only mention it as a
perfectly possible one.
[Illustration: FIG. 16. Zigzagging without turning.]
The accompanying diagram, which is practically the same as one in Mr.
Richardson's book, "The Ski-Runner," shows how, by walking alternately
backwards and forwards, one can climb a steep passage, just wide enough
to allow zigzagging, without wasting time in turning at the end of each
tack. A description is unnecessary. It is, of course, possible to make
the tacks of any length, but the number of steps in each must always
be an even one, as the tack must be started with the upper foot and
finished with the lower.
_Half Side-stepping._--In tacking uphill among obstacles you may want
to traverse at an angle so steep that the skis would back-slip if you
tried to move straight forward in the ordinary way. You will then have
to step sideways as well as forwards with each ski, the upper one
starting the process and the lower one being drawn up to it, and then
advanced. Fig. 17, A, shows the track that will be left.
This must of course be done without pointing the skis uphill more
steeply than the angle at which they could traverse in the ordinary
way. In lifting the upper ski sideways you are sure at first to point
it uphill too much (Fig. 17, B _3_), when, if it does not slip back
at once, you will tread on it with the heel of the lower ski at the
next step (Fig. 17, B _4_). To avoid this, do your best at first to
place the upper ski _horizontally_ across the slope, lifting its _heel_
well upwards and away from the other, pointing the foot downwards and
inwards, and turning your body so as to face a little downhill.
[Illustration: FIG. 17. Half side-stepping; A right, B wrong.]
On open ground, if the snow is so slippery that the gradient of an
ordinary straightforward traverse has to be very slight indeed, this
half side-stepping can be used simply to save time. Especial care
must then be taken to place the upper ski nearly horizontally. Half
side-stepping can be kept up for a long time without difficulty; but
it is more tiring than ordinary straightforward traversing, and I
think it is a waste of energy to employ it constantly when there is no
special reason for it, as some runners are fond of doing.
_Side-stepping._--It is, of course, also possible to side-step directly
uphill with the skis quite horizontal, as in Fig. 18, but this, though
very easy, is such a tiresome process that it is seldom used except in
narrow passages where there is room for nothing else, or for climbing
short slopes that are very steep and icy.
[Illustration: FIG. 18. Side-stepping.]
_Herring-boning_ (Plate IX.).--This is the quickest but far the most
tiring way of going straight up a steep slope. Stand with skis together
pointing as much uphill as they can without slipping. Lift the upper
ski, and, keeping the feet close together, turn it until it points
across the hill in the opposite direction, but _at the same angle
as before_, with its heel across that of the other. Then slide it
forwards until it just clears the lower one; stand up on it and draw
up the lower foot so that the skis are again crossed at the back at
the same angle as before, but with the hitherto lower ski uppermost.
You can now take a new step in the other direction, and so on.[6]
Fig. 19 shows the track. The steeper the slope the wider must be the
angle between the skis to prevent them from slipping back, but you can
always, if you find it difficult to turn the feet enough outwards,
point the skis uphill more steeply than would otherwise be possible, by
simply throwing the weight momentarily _against_ rather than _on to_
each ski (see p. 65), and keeping the feet well apart the whole time
instead of bringing them together between each step. But though this is
a quicker method, it is a still more tiring one than the first.
[Illustration: FIG. 19. Herring-boning.]
If the slope is steep, herring-boning is too exhausting to be kept up
for more than a short time by anyone but a trained athlete, but on a
gradient which will allow the skis to diverge at only a slight angle it
is easy enough.
_Getting up from a Fall._--If during any of these manoeuvres you
should fall down, you may find some difficulty in getting up again.
The first problem is to disentangle the skis, if they have become
jammed in a complicated position.
The best way to do this is generally to begin by moving your body as
far away from them as possible. If, for instance, you have fallen with
your head downhill, wriggle yourself still farther downhill. Next lift
your skis into the air, either by rolling on your back and raising the
legs from the hips, or by rolling on to your face and bending the legs
backwards from the knees. It is generally possible to free the skis in
this way, but occasionally one cannot move without unfastening them
first.
Having freed them, place them parallel in the air, and roll round on
your side so as to bring them to the snow on the downhill side of you
and exactly at right angles to the fall of the slope.
This is important, for, if they are pointing either up or down hill,
they will, of course, begin to slip the moment you put your weight on
them.
If they are quite level, and your feet are exactly below your body,
you have merely to push yourself up with the arm which is underneath
you and stand erect. If you want to help yourself up with your stick,
do not poke it vertically into the snow and try to climb up it, for if
the snow is deep and soft you will only plunge it farther in without
getting any resistance. _Lay it horizontally_ on the snow, and it will
then give you enough purchase to push up from.
On level ground it is harder to get up again than on a hill side, owing
to the difficulty of getting the skis underneath one in order to get to
one's feet. After freeing them and placing them parallel, lie on your
side, draw your knees as close to your chest, and your feet as close to
your thighs as you can, lay your stick flat under your side, and, with
a vigorous push on it, you ought to be able to get your weight over the
skis and stand up.
Never hurry, or try to struggle frantically to your feet without any
definite method. You will merely exhaust yourself. It is impossible, as
a rule, to get up without going through the various manoeuvres that I
have described, but these take a very short time if they are performed
smartly and accurately.
GENERAL PRINCIPLES OF STEERING, ETC.
This chapter is mildly theoretical, and may be skipped by the reader
who believes in nothing that is not, in the ordinary sense of the word,
practical; for in it he will find no definite instructions, but only a
description of the behaviour, under different conditions, of the skis
when in motion, and an attempt at an explanation of it.
I advise him, however, to try to read it, for I think that what I have
to say here is, in a broad sense, strictly practical. I am convinced
at any rate, that if, when I began ski-ing, some one had given me the
information which I am about to try to impart, and which, for the most
part, I have slowly collected for myself, I could have reached in a
month the very moderate degree of skill which it has taken me five
seasons or so to arrive at.
If the reader can thoroughly grasp the few facts with which this
chapter is concerned--and he can take my word for the facts, whatever
he may think about my comments on them--he will, I think, find it far
easier to understand, remember, and put into practice the instructions
which he will find in the subsequent chapters, as to the various
swings, turns, and other manoeuvres for controlling and steering the
skis, and keeping the balance while running downhill.
Before proceeding any further, I had better, in order to avoid any
chance of being misunderstood, explain certain terms of which I shall
constantly make use throughout the rest of the book. These terms
are the "edging" and "flattening" of the skis, and the "inside" and
"outside" of a curve.
If any reader feels that an explanation of these terms is an insult to
his intelligence, I can only assure him that such an explanation has
been necessary in the case of many of my pupils.
The terms "edging" and "flattening" simply have reference to the
relation of the plane of the ski's sole with that of the general
surface on which it is resting, and do not refer to its relation with a
horizontal plane, or, in other words, to its position in space.
Thus a ski is "flat" when standing in the normal position on level
ground; but, when standing in the normal position on the side of a
slope, it is _not_ "flat," but "edged," for in this case the edge
nearest the hill cuts deeper into the snow than the other although the
plane of the sole is still horizontal. (Fig. 20, A and B.)
[Illustration: FIG. 20. Edging and flattening.]
The case is altered when the ski is inclined sideways; on level ground
a ski that is inclined sideways is "edged" (C and E); but on the side
of a hill a ski when inclined sideways so that the plane of its sole
becomes parallel with that of the surface of the slope, is _not_
"edged" but "flat" (D). When inclined to the opposite side, however,
it is, of course, "edged" even more strongly than in the normal
position (F).
The inside and outside of a curve mean, respectively, the sides nearest
to, and farthest from, the centre of the circle of which that curve is
an arc; that is to say, that in speaking of a swing or a turn to the
right, the right ski, foot, and so forth are the inside, and the left
the outside ones, while in the case of a turn to the left it is just
the reverse.
This is simple enough. A shade of ambiguity, however, may lie in
the fact that the edges of a ski are generally called "inside" and
"outside" with reference to their relation to the foot, in the same way
as those of a skate. In speaking, then, of swings or turns, the right
edge, say, of the right ski may be referred to as its "outside" edge,
even when the right ski itself, and the right leg, shoulder, and so on
are all the inner ones in relation to the curve of the swing.
Now for the facts referred to above.
When a ski is pointed directly downhill and is made to slide with its
sole held flat on the snow, it runs, if properly constructed, in a
perfectly straight line.
If it is then "edged" to one side it runs round gradually to that side,
the curved point acting against the snow like a bow rudder and drawing
it to that side.
The steering effect, in theory, increases with the edging until it
reaches its maximum when the ski is edged to a right angle. What
happens in practice is that though the edging and the steering effect
do increase together, there is no use in edging the ski beyond a
certain angle--less than 45°--as, if that angle is exceeded, the ski
sinks deeply into the snow and refuses to slide.
If that angle is not exceeded, however, the deeper the ski sinks into
the snow (owing to the softness of the latter) the greater is the
steering effect, for then a larger and more sharply curved surface of
the point comes into action as a rudder.
If when going straight downhill the runner "edges" his ski--we will
suppose he has only one--_by simply leaning sideways_, he will equally
simply fall down; but if he "edges" it _without leaning_--if he edges
it _in relation to himself_, so to speak--it will begin to turn; that
he then leans sideways in order to keep his balance does not make the
turn sharper.
If the runner traverses the slope with his ski held normally, as in
Fig. 20, B, it will run straight, for although it is then edged in
relation to the slope it is not edged in relation to him. If he edges
it in relation to himself it will turn more or less according as the
gradient of its previous traverse has been steep or gradual.
When a ski running straight downhill is made to turn by "edging," the
further it turns, and the less directly therefore it points downhill,
the less abrupt becomes the curve of its course. This curve, indeed,
eventually becomes so gradual that before the ski has turned far enough
to point horizontally across the slope and come to a standstill, the
line of its track is practically straight.
When, therefore, a ski, traversing directly at a moderate gradient,
is simply "edged" towards the slope, there is no perceptible turning
effect, even if the runner does not lean inwards.
At first sight it might appear that the movement of a ski when edged
and travelling in a curve would be precisely similar to that of a
skate, and so it is in a way.
Since the edge of a skate is, in shape, the arc of a circle, a skate,
when edged, cuts cleanly round without side-slip, and so in a sense
does a ski, when simply edged, for its heel then follows in the track
of its point. An edged ski, moreover, like a skate, turns more or less
gradually, according to the angle at which it is edged. But while a
skate, the edge of which is curved throughout, touches the ice with
only a very small part of this edge, and is able to make a curve of
very small radius, a ski touches the snow with nearly the whole length
of its edge, the greater part of which is quite straight. This straight
part so far neutralises the turning action of the curved point, that a
ski made to turn simply by edging is unable to make anything but a very
long and gradual curve--so gradual, indeed, that for practical purposes
of steering the edging of the ski, _unaided_, is absolutely useless.
[Illustration: FIG. 21.]
But though, contrary to what one might expect, the edging or flattening
of the skis may practically be disregarded as _primary_ factors in
a turn, they are, as we shall see, of the greatest importance as
_secondary_ ones.
Before a ski can be made to turn at all sharply, its heel must be got
out of the track of its point and made to travel faster on a curve of
its own (as in Fig. 21, B). The ski as a whole, in fact, must be made
to side-slip more or less as well as move forward.
The first question, then, is how the ski-heel is to be got out of
the track of the point in order that the side-slip may start. If the
ski is pointing nearly directly downhill, whether flat and running
straight, or moving edged in a long curve, there is--apart from the
help of the other ski, which we will leave out of the question for
the present--only one possible way of doing it. The runner, by means
of sudden--though not necessarily more than a very slight--muscular
effort must jerk it more or less broadside on. How he makes this effort
need not be considered here; we will also defer the consideration of
the other ways in which the side-slip may be started. Supposing it has
been started, it must then, by edging or flattening, be encouraged to
continue, if the ski is to go on turning.
It depends on the quality of the snow as to whether a ski side-slips
more freely when flat or when more or less edged. If the surface of
the snow is hard and icy, or if there is a mere shallow layer of loose
snow on a hard crust, a ski will slip sideways either when quite flat
or when slightly or even strongly edged on the side _from_ which it is
moving.
The flat position would in this case be the more favourable if the hard
surface were perfectly smooth; this, however, it seldom is; it usually
has small projections which, when the ski is quite flat, strike its
side and check or stop it, while, if the edge is raised, they strike
its sole obliquely and affect its motion but little.
The flat position, then, is not advisable as an aid to side-slip even
in the case of hard snow; on snow of any other kind it is still less
advisable, for if the ski sinks deeply into loose soft snow, or even
but a little way into dense soft snow or into a thin crust, it can
hardly be induced to side-slip at all when held quite flat, while when
more or less edged, it can usually (if already in motion) be made to do
so without much difficulty.
The reason is not quite obvious, for at first glance it would appear
that the ski would meet more resistance from the snow in the edged
position than in the flat, but this is not the case, for, when the ski
is edged, most of the resistance is exerted _obliquely_ against its
sole, and so tends to make the ski rise to the surface of the snow and
relieves the pressure. When, however, the ski is flat, the resistance
acts _directly_ against the side of it, and there is no lifting
tendency to diminish the rapidity with which this resistance increases
as the snow is compressed.
[Illustration: FIG. 22.]
Moreover, since during a turn the runner must lean inwards to keep
his balance, the ski cannot remain in its normal position in relation
to the leg unless it is more or less edged inwards (Fig. 22, A). That
the leg and ski should remain as nearly as possible in their normal
relative positions is an advantage, for the more nearly they do so the
less is the strain on the ankle. If the weighted ski is held quite flat
during a turn in which it is outermost, that ankle is placed in a very
unstable position (Fig. 22, B), and is liable to give way and so edge
the ski on that side _towards_ which it is moving (Fig. 22, C); it
will then cut more deeply into the snow and be brought instantly to a
standstill.
[Illustration: FIG. 23.]
In all that I have said so far about side-slip, I have assumed that
the ski is moving more or less broadside on, with its heel travelling
outside the track of its tip and its pivoting point well forward, and
this is what either one or both skis actually do during the greater
part of any swing or turn; for, in turning, a ski usually passes
through the positions of either B or C, Fig. 23. A ski may also, as,
for instance, in turning downwards from a slow traverse, move so that
the curve in which its point travels is outside that of the heel (Fig.
23, D) and its pivoting point is near the heel. In each of these cases,
though one end is side-slipping faster than the other, both ends are
slipping to the _same side_, and the ski, as I have said, has therefore
to be edged to the _opposite side_.
If, however, the ski begins to turn as in D, and finishes as in B
or C, it must of course be edged first to one side and then to the
other, as in E, and for a moment be flat. At this moment the pivoting
point of the ski is at its centre, and its heel is side-slipping in
one direction as much as its point is in the other, as in A. If ever,
therefore, a ski, in turning, _continues_ to pivot on its centre (Fig.
23, A) instead of only doing so for a moment, it must obviously be held
quite flat, as otherwise either one end or the other will cut below the
surface of the snow and be checked suddenly.
Now the pivoting point of a ski is never behind its centre except
during a downward turn, and the faster the runner is moving before the
turn, and the sharper the turn is made, the more quickly this point
moves to the front; the only case, I believe, in which it remains
near the centre for an appreciable time, and when, therefore, the ski
has to be held deliberately flat, being that of the outer ski during a
"steered" Christiania swing.
In order to facilitate side-slip, therefore, the outer edge of
the ski must usually be raised as it turns or, even if at first
the inner edge must be raised, a change of edge must usually take
place almost immediately. The flat position, in fact, must never be
sustained--except, as I have said, during a Christiania "steered"
swing, and even then only for a short time--it is simply a necessary
incident in a change of edge.
In each figure in Diagram 23 the dotted line with arrows shows the
_average_ direction of the ski's course at each point, and whether,
therefore, it must be edged or flat.
The foregoing remarks are an explanation of how the edging or
flattening of the ski can be made to help the side-slip; the next thing
is to understand how the side-slip can be made to help the ski to turn
sharply.
If, when either standing still on the side of a slope or running across
it in the normal, edged position, a ski is partially flattened, it will
begin to slip sideways--in the first case moving directly downhill,
and in the second obliquely, _i.e._ forwards as well as sideways.
Now the foot stands on the ski at about halfway between the front bend
and the heel--that is to say, about the middle of that part of the
blade which rests on the snow; and as long as the runner's weight is
placed equally on toe and heel, a ski in side-slipping will continue to
point in a direction parallel to that in which it was pointing when the
side-slip began.
When, however, the runner's weight is placed on the heel, that end of
the ski will side-slip faster than the other, and the farther the ski
slips the more it will point uphill; while when the weight is placed on
the toe the reverse will happen.
Fig. 24 shows what will happen if a ski, when (A, B, C) at rest on,
or (D, E, F) running across a slope, is made to side-slip with the
runner's weight variously distributed. In this and succeeding diagrams
the blackened portions of the skis are those on which the runner's
weight is put.
[Illustration: FIG. 24.]
In A the ski slips broadside on downhill.
In B it gradually revolves as it slips, and would finish by running
downhill backwards if its shape did not prevent it from doing so.
In C its rotation is reversed, and it finally runs straight downhill.
In D it runs slightly sideways, but the direction of its course is a
straight line.
In E it turns uphill and at a certain point stops.
In F it at first turns and finally runs straight downhill.
The side-slip can be stopped more or less quickly at any stage by the
runner strongly edging the ski and at the same time again equalising
the distribution of his weight on it.
Whether the ski then runs on in the direction in which it is pointing,
or comes to a standstill, of course depends on whether it is pointing
downhill or not.
It is obvious, then, that when a ski is in motion _across_ a slope the
runner, by means of the side-slip, can make it turn in either direction
and to any extent up to a certain limit, and can in this way either
come to a standstill, slightly alter his direction, or run straight
downhill. It is equally obvious that no matter what means are employed
for starting a turn (there are more ways of doing so than I have yet
described), the distribution of the runner's weight on the ski or skis
which carry it may make all the difference to the success or failure of
the manoeuvre.
I have already said that when a ski is running straight downhill it
may be made to turn by the runner jerking it somewhat broadside on. He
can of course do the same with the two skis, but a simpler plan is for
him to stand on one, point the other more or less in the direction in
which he wants to go, and hold it so for a moment. It is thus of course
made to "stem"--in other words, to side-slip--and, if the runner then
throws his weight on to its heel, it can, as we have just seen, be
made to turn still further, the previously weighted one being again
brought parallel with it as it does so. A turn can also be started from
a traverse in the same way.
When one ski is held at an angle with the other in order to start
a turn in the above way, the relative position of the two usually
produces some steering effect; the two skis in fact act together
something like a boat and rudder. To say that one ski may be looked
upon as the boat and the other as the rudder is hardly accurate, for
the steering effect is at its greatest when, as the runner's weight is
shifted from the ski that is running straight ahead to the one that is
held sideways, it rests equally on both; at which moment, since their
area is equal, either of the skis may equally well be looked upon as
the rudder or as the boat. If, however, it is remembered that the boat
steers the rudder no less than the rudder steers the boat, and that if
the rudder is fixed in a certain position, it and the boat together
may be considered as one solid object whose shape determines whether
and how it is able to turn, one may, by comparing the skis with a boat
and rudder, understand whether and how, when held in various relative
positions, _they_ are able to turn.
The diagram shows the skis as they are held at the beginning of--A, a
Telemark, B, a Stemming turn, and C, a Christiania. It also shows a
boat turning to the left steered by both a bow and a stern rudder.
[Illustration: FIG. 25. The darkened ski of each pair is the weighted
one.]
The steering action of the skis may be best understood by considering
the blackened parts of each pair (in which the steering effect is
neutral) as the sides of a boat, and the light point and heel of each
pair as a bow and stern rudder respectively. It will then be seen that
the boat is in each case helped to turn to the left by the action of
both rudders, or that if it can in some way be made to turn to the
left without the help of the rudders, they will at least not hinder
it--than which, as a matter of fact, little more can be said in the
case of the Telemark; though in the Stemming turn there is a strong
steering action while the skis remain in this position, and a distinct,
if weak, one in the Christiania.
The principal factors, then, in the control and steering of the skis
are the edging or flattening of them, the distribution of the weight on
them, and the placing of them in certain positions in relation to each
other. How these various factors interact during the different swings,
turns, &c., will be explained more fully in subsequent chapters, but
before closing this one I want to give some explanation of how a turn
on skis depends as to its character on whether the ski at the moment of
beginning the turn is running straight down the hill or across it, on
whether the speed is high or low, and the slope steep or gentle, and
also on the quality of the snow.
The accompanying diagram shows the successive positions assumed by a
ski (the leading one, the other is not shown) during a turn to the
right, under various conditions.
The line passing through the middle of the skis shows the curve on
which the runner himself travels during the turn; the line ending in a
double arrow shows the sort of curve on which he would travel if the
ski were able to cut round without side-slip as a skate does. It will
be seen that if there were no side-slip he would in every case move
steadily to the right of the line of his original course (shown by a
dotted line in the diagram), but that, on account of the side-slip, the
line on which he travels sometimes moves only slightly to the right of
that line, even when the turn itself is a sharp one, that sometimes it
moves to the left of it and then recrosses it, and that sometimes it
remains entirely on the left of it throughout the turn. To understand
how, according to the conditions, the curve of the runners actual
course varies, is a great help to the balance, for at first one's
instinct is to balance the body as if the ski were cutting round like
a skate, _i.e._ to lean inwards too much, which, of course, inevitably
results in a fall.
In every case the turn is supposed to be made as sharply as the
conditions allow. It will be seen that on hard snow the runner, when
travelling fast, will skid almost directly sideways for some distance
from the spot where he actually finishes turning.
[Illustration: FIG. 26.]
A, B, C, D are turns made while the runner is travelling straight
downhill, or, which amounts to the same thing, while he is running on
the level at the end of a downhill slide. E, F, G, H are turns made
while the runner is descending a slope _obliquely_. A to F are what are
known as uphill turns, which bring the runner to a standstill; G and H
are downhill ones, which enable him to join one tack to another when
descending a hill in zigzags.
If anyone who has done no ski-ing at all reads this chapter, he will,
no doubt, think it very complicated; but if, while actually learning to
ski, and especially while learning the turns, he looks through it from
time to time, I think he will soon understand whatever is not quite
clear, and will, I hope, find that it helps him to correct his mistakes
and to understand and remember his instructions.
STRAIGHT-RUNNING
_Cleaning Skis._--Before attempting to start, you must make sure that
your skis will slide.
In thawy weather, or very strong sunshine, the snow may stick to
their under surfaces--so badly, sometimes, that sliding is out of
the question. But it is seldom quite impossible to slide, and under
conditions which seem hopeless to a beginner one can generally get
started, if one knows how to set about it. When once under weigh the
great thing is to keep moving, for the moment the skis stop sliding the
snow will stick again, and the whole cleaning process described below
must be repeated.
In snow which is only slightly sticky you need merely stamp your skis
hard once or twice, and rub them firmly backwards and forwards on the
hardened snow until you can feel that they are quite slippery. Then
slide off at once.
If the snow sticks badly, the skis must be scraped on each other
(unless there are any branches or hard objects lying about which will
do as well). To do this on level ground is easy; on the side of a hill
rather less so.
Suppose you are obliged to start your run on the hillside and wish to
scrape your skis.
First stand with your skis pointing across the slope, and, by
vigorously stamping or jumping, make as hard a place to stand in as
possible.
If you are standing with your right side to the hill, and want to
scrape the right ski, rest your left ski on its right (inside) edge,
lift round the right ski, and put it across the other one, at right
angles to it, just _behind_ the left foot and pointing directly uphill.
Then scrape it hard up and down across the raised outer edge of the
left ski, bending the left knee well and crouching down so as to get
a long scrape from the heel _right up to the bend_ of the right ski
(Plate XI.). When the ski feels perfectly smooth, lift it round again
parallel to the other ski, and _without resting it on the snow for
an instant_ stamp and rub it backwards and forwards until it is as
slippery as possible and the snow beneath it as hard and smooth as
you can make it. Then, and not until then, you can rest the ski on
the snow, placing it on its right (outer) edge and doing your best to
prevent its sole from touching the snow. Now, with your weight on the
right ski, but still holding it well on its edge, face downhill, lift
round the left ski, put it across the heel of the other one, pointing
downhill, and, crouching well down as before, scrape it clean on the
inside edge of the other (Plate XII.); this time it is the _heel_ of
the ski which it is difficult to get at. Then bring it round to the
side of the right ski, repeat the stamping and rubbing process, and
place it carefully on its inside edge. Now start instantly. (How to do
so is explained later.)
If the snow is very bad indeed, it is best, when on tour, before
beginning the descent, to take off the skis, scrape and wipe them
absolutely clean, and dry them thoroughly in the sun or air--but not,
if you can help it, by standing them upright in the snow, for if they
are wet the water will run down and form ice at the heel ends. Then wax
and polish them well, let their soles cool in the shade if they are
warm from the sun, and put them on. You will probably be able to slide
off without trouble; or, if it is still necessary to scrape and rub
them, they will become clean more easily.
This scraping sounds an elaborate and wearisome process, and so it is.
Fortunately it is not often necessary; but, when the snow is really
bad, it is an enormous saving of time and trouble in the end to attend
minutely to every detail, and may be the only means of getting a run at
all.
It is not unusual to see a beginner refuse to get his skis thoroughly
clean, under the impression that the slower pace will make things
easier for him. He could not make a greater mistake. If he leaves any
snow sticking to his skis they will certainly move slowly (unless they
refuse to slide altogether), but they will do so with an irregular,
jerky motion which is ten times more upsetting than the fastest
movement of polished skis.
_Starting._--To start from the top of a hill is a simple matter. You
walk to the edge and slide over in any direction you choose.
On the side of a slope, however, there is a difficulty in starting a
run straight downhill owing to the fact that, as you move the skis
round, they begin to slide before you are facing the way you wish to go.
One way to overcome this difficulty is as follows: Suppose you are
standing at right angles to the fall of the slope, with the hill on
your right, and wish to start to run straight downhill.
First move both skis round a little way, so that, like the left ski
in Plate XIII., they point downhill as directly as possible without
actually slipping. Then, putting all the weight on the left ski, lift
the right ski and place it on the snow, pointing straight downhill, its
tip being just in front of and below the tip of the other one, as in
the photograph. The weight should still be on the left ski. If there is
any sign of slipping, you can stop it by turning the skis on to their
inside edges and pressing outwards against them with the legs.
You are now quite steady and ready to start. In order to do so you
merely have to throw _all_ your weight on to the _right_ foot and to
lean well forward, downhill. The right ski will at once slide off, the
right foot will strike and push forward the point of the left ski,
which will, if left to itself, come round, and fall into what, as will
appear later, is its proper position close to the side of the other.
Another simple and frequently used method of starting downhill from the
horizontal position is to jump round. The same points are to be noticed
as when using a jump in the place of a kick-turn. Bring the feet level,
spring from the ball of the foot, press the _knees_ as well as the
feet together, hold the skis parallel, and don't let their heels drop.
You must land leaning well forward, so that the general direction of
the body and legs is at right angles to the slope, _not_ vertical,
otherwise the skis will run from under you.
This jump round is easier than the first one described, being only a
quarter-turn, while the other is a half-turn.
_Straight-running._--As you begin to slide, place yourself in the
position of Plates XIV. and XV., which is the normal one for running
downhill--skis held in contact, so that they leave a single track;
one ski about a foot in advance of the other; the advanced leg almost
straight at the knee, the other more bent; nearly all the weight on the
back foot; the inside of the front knee pressed against the _kneecap_
of the other; body erect; arms hanging easily by the sides; stick, or
sticks, if carried, held clear of the snow.
Hold yourself perfectly easily and without stiffness, especially at
the knees, which should give to the inequalities of the ground. It is
far better to stand too loosely, and sway about somewhat, than to keep
every muscle tense.
You can keep the skis together without effort by bending the knees and
ankles well inwards, so as to place the skis slightly on their inside
edges; they will then tend to run together rather than to separate.
Take the greatest care to avoid any approach to a bow-legged position,
which would edge the skis outwards. There should be no daylight visible
between your knees to a person standing in front of you.
If you should find the skis running wide apart with the weight equally
on both, don't try to force them together, but throw all your weight
on to one ski, and then you will be able to move back the other quite
easily to its proper position.
Carry the stick, or sticks, as shown in the photographs (Plates XIV.
and XV.). On no account hold a single stick (or the two sticks placed
together) in both hands. If you feel the smallest tendency to do so,
practise at first with nothing in your hands.
This will save you from acquiring the habit of falling into the
deplorable attitude shown in Plate XVI., or the almost equally bad one
in which the stick is held out in front transversely like a balancing
pole, ready for the teeth of its owner if he happens to pitch forwards.
If their weight or length makes it difficult to keep the sticks clear
of the snow when held by the ends, hold them rather nearer the middle,
but not _much_ nearer or they will be more likely to hurt you if you
fall.
Don't hold out the arms horizontally from the shoulders, for that is
tiring and ungraceful.
The knees, as I said, should give to small inequalities of the ground;
but as you are almost sure instinctively to stiffen them a little when
you find yourself approaching a bump or hollow which looks likely
to upset your balance, it is as well to bend or straighten them
_voluntarily_ according to circumstances. As you go over a mound, for
instance, bend the knees and let the body sink; if it is necessary to
sink low, raise the heel of the back foot and let more weight fall on
the advanced one. As you cross a hollow, straighten the knees and rise
as high as you can. In this way the pressure of the skis on the snow
will vary but little and the unevenness of the ground will scarcely be
felt. The feeling will be that of moving steadily and smoothly along,
lifting the skis over the hillocks, and pressing them down into the
hollows. A spectator who can only see your head and body should hardly
know that the ground over which you are moving is not perfectly smooth.
In this way you can negotiate short variations of gradient where the
general angle of the slope remains constant. In the case of larger
inequalities, or where the general angle of the slope changes, you
must alter your procedure. The line from your centre of gravity to its
point of support must always be at right angles to the surface of the
slope, so, where the ground becomes steeper, you will have to lean more
forward, and less so where it becomes less steep. But though you will
have to tilt yourself forward consciously as you pass on to a steeper
slope, you may safely leave to unconscious instinct the backward lean
in the opposite case. If you try to lean backward consciously, you are
almost certain to overdo it and to sit down.
There is a further safeguard in the case of sudden changes of gradient,
very rough ground, snow of varying consistency which alternately checks
and accelerates the speed, and, in fact, anything which makes it
difficult to keep the balance-that is, to drop into what is generally
known as the "Telemark" position (Plates XVII., XVIII., XIX.), because
it is the one held during the swing of that name.
To assume this attitude, you shift the weight from the back foot
to the advanced one, and then sink down, leaning the body forwards,
bending both knees, and sliding the back ski still farther back until
its bend is level with the leading ankle.
Practically all your weight should then be upon the leading foot,
and upon its heel, no less than its toes. To make sure of this, the
advanced leg must be bent at the knee almost to a right angle, and
the knee must be kept well forward, so that the leg, from the knee
downwards, will be at right angles to the ski, no matter how steep may
be the slope.
If the front foot is thrust forward in advance of the knee, too
much weight will fall on the _toe_ (unlikely as it may appear) and,
moreover, some weight will be thrown on the back foot, which should
carry next to none. Let the back knee drop until quite close to the ski
(when crossing uneven ground it will very likely touch it) and raise
the heel of the back foot as far as possible. That leg should then be
perfectly relaxed and easy. Keep the skis close together as before, so
that they leave a single track, by edging them a trifle inwards and
pressing both _knees_, especially the back one, well inwards so that,
seen from in front or behind, they overlap.
Practise running in this position with either foot leading, taking
care to keep the weight well on the front foot. It is an indispensable
accomplishment; and although at first it may not seem so easy a
position as the normal one, it is such a help to the balance that later
on you must be on your guard or you may contract the bad habit of
running constantly in this position when there is no real need for it.
In this position not only is the centre of gravity lowered, but the
base of support is considerably lengthened, and the fore and aft
stability is thus enormously increased. By means of it you will be
able to move with perfect steadiness over ground which would almost
inevitably upset you if you were to stand up in the normal position.
In this, just as in the normal position, you can consciously raise and
lower yourself to allow for uneven ground, by bending or straightening
the advanced leg; but this will seldom be necessary, except for very
abrupt inequalities.
Even sudden changes of speed have little power to disturb your balance
when you are running in this attitude. If the gradient suddenly
becomes much steeper, as in Plates XVIII. and XIX., you should give
a determined plunge forwards, as though trying to get ahead of your
skis. If, however, you are taken by surprise, and run suddenly on to
an invisible icy patch or over a steep drop in bad light, you will
probably at the worst only find your weight thrown on to the back foot,
and will be able to recover yourself. On the other hand, if the speed
is checked and you are thrown forwards, the back foot will tend to rise
into the air, and, receiving the weight of the ski, will most likely
just save you. If the check is so abrupt as to throw you right off your
balance forwards, you can often save yourself by bringing, with a quick
stride, the disengaged back foot to the front to receive your weight.
Indeed you are almost sure to do so instinctively.
Another position, which is employed by some runners under circumstances
such as I have just described, is as follows:--
The runner crouches as low as possible, almost sitting on the raised
heel of the back foot; the front leg, from the knee downwards, is
perpendicular to the ski, but its foot is not much farther ahead than
in the normal running position; the back knee is pressed against the
inside of the front leg, just above the ankle.
This attitude is less tiring to hold than the Telemark position, but
is, I think, less of a safeguard to the balance when the speed changes
suddenly or the ground is very rough.
All that I have just said has reference only to the preservation of the
balance in a fore and aft direction. The question of lateral stability
is far simpler; on all ordinary occasions it is sufficiently secured by
keeping the skis as close together, and so making as narrow a track as
possible.
The reason for this is not quite self-evident, but is easily explained.
If a bicycle be ridden on bumpy ground, it will not be tilted sideways
as it crosses the side of an undulation, and will have no tendency to
upset unless it actually side-slips.
A tricycle, on the other hand, or any vehicle with a wide wheel-base,
will under similar circumstances be more or less tilted according
to the angle of the ground, and will, unless it has a _very_ wide
wheel-base and a low centre of gravity, be easily upset by a sudden
transverse variation in the angle of the ground, especially when moving
fast.
The diagram shows how a ski-runner when holding his skis apart may be
compared with a tricycle, when holding them together with a bicycle.
This is not quite a fair simile, for, while the cases of the bicycle
and of the ski-runner in the single-track position are exactly
analogous, a man with his skis apart is not a rigid construction like a
tricycle, but, by letting his knees give and by swaying his body, can
adapt himself to the change of gradient.
Still, the tendency is always, especially in the case of the beginner,
for the legs to stiffen when they ought to yield, and on this account
alone the single-track position is the safer.
[Illustration: FIG. 27.]
There are, moreover, two further objections--and very strong ones--to
separating the skis.
One is that it is impossible to run with the skis apart without holding
the feet about level, instead of keeping one well ahead of the other.
With the feet level the runner has far less stability in a fore and
aft direction, and, without support from his stick, can hardly hope to
keep his balance in the event of a very sudden change of speed. The
other objection is that when the skis are separated each one has to
be kept straight independently. At a low speed it is perhaps not very
difficult to do this, but at a high speed it is by no means easy, and,
of course, any divergence or convergence of the skis is almost certain
to cause a fall before it can be checked.
When held against each other, however, the skis, if properly made, will
run perfectly straight and need no attention at all. Obviously they
cannot converge, and the least inward pressure or edging will prevent
them from running apart.
The single-track position, then, has many advantages. The only thing
against it is its unsteadiness in the event of side-slip. But under
ordinary conditions of snow, a ski, when moving straight ahead, either
directly down the slope or obliquely across it, will show no tendency
to side-slip, not even when, in the latter case, the slope is very
steep (provided, of course, the ski be held normally, _i.e._ edged).
Under such conditions you can always run with the skis held close
together in either the normal or the Telemark position, and there can
be no excuse for deliberately separating them.
When running on a hard icy crust, however, it is sometimes impossible
to prevent the skis from side-slipping. They are, of course, much more
apt to side-slip when moving across a slope (especially a steep one)
than when running straight down it; indeed when traversing a _steep_
slope they may side-slip even in _soft_ snow if that is shallow and
rests on a slippery crust. But though they will generally run straight
downhill with absolute steadiness on snow that makes them side-slip
badly when traversing, the surface may be so extremely slippery that
they will side-slip even in a direct descent owing to small _lateral_
undulations of the ground.
As soon, in either case, as the tendency to side-slip becomes so
pronounced that you are really hopelessly unsteady in the single-track
position, you will, if you still want to run at full speed, have to
separate the feet more or less and hold them about level. Do not
separate the feet more than just enough to steady you, and do not do it
at all until you are quite sure it is absolutely necessary; try merely
to separate them a little for a moment when the side-slip unsteadies
you and to recover the normal _position_ instantly; some runners
seem able to hold the single-track position at any speed on the most
slippery snow--possibly by making imperceptible jumps to one side or
another as they feel the slip begin.
When running with your feet level and apart, your fore and aft balance
will, of course, be more precarious than in the normal position; you
had better, therefore, lower your centre of gravity by crouching as
low as you can with steadiness, _i.e._ not so low that all your weight
comes on the heels or that they have to be raised at all. In the
level-footed position your best safeguard in case of sudden changes of
gradient or snow consistency is _not_ to lean backwards or forwards,
but _to move the feet forwards or backwards_, which amounts to exactly
the same thing but is a much quicker process.
This may not be quite clear. Let me try to explain. As I have already
said, the line from your centre of gravity to your point of support
must always be about at right angles to the slope. Suppose then that
you are running fast down a slope with an abrupt mound in front of
you, instead of trying to readjust your balance as you pass on to the
mound by leaning suddenly _backwards_, do so by still more suddenly
doubling _forwards_ a bit at the hips and, so to speak, _lifting
your feet forwards and placing them_ AGAINST _the mound to receive
your weight_. If, on the other hand, you suddenly run off a gentle
slope on to a steep one, quickly hollow your back a little, and, by
straightening yourself at the hips and bending your knees more, lift
your feet _backwards_ and place them against the slope behind you.
By "lifting" the skis I do not mean actually _raising_ them from the
snow, but only taking the weight off them a trifle, and _sliding_ them.
These movements are exactly the same as those you would make if, when
standing with your feet tied together, you were pushed off your balance
either forwards or backwards and were then to save yourself by a little
jump in the corresponding direction. _Leaning_ backwards and forwards,
which as it is done principally on the hinge of the ankles cannot be
done quickly, may be used as a _preventive_ of loss of balance, but is
practically useless as a _cure_; this moving of the _feet_, however, is
particularly useful for the latter purpose. If you try the two methods
when running quickly down a very undulating icy path, you will soon
decide in favour of the latter.
You can, of course, do the same thing when running in steady snow with
the skis together in the normal position, but it is then simpler and
quicker to move _one_ foot backwards or forwards instead of moving both.
Although, as I have said, side-slip occurs more readily when you are
traversing a slope, you will then find it far less upsetting than when
you are running straight downhill. When traversing in normal position
with the skis together, the upper foot should lead and the weight be on
the lower; with the lower foot weighted it will take a very sudden and
pronounced side-slip to upset you, for as the lower ski slips the upper
will receive the weight, and the sudden pressure will probably make its
edge hold long enough for you to recover your balance. Moreover, you
will generally, when traversing, be running pretty slowly (you can, of
course, go as slowly as you like by making the angle of your traverse
a very gradual one), which makes side-slip still less likely to upset
you. It is, therefore, hardly ever necessary to traverse with your skis
more than a few inches apart.
If you wish to run a traverse at high speed where the tendency to
side-slip is very pronounced, do not make violent efforts to prevent
it by edging your skis extra hard, but simply keep them normally edged
with your ankles, and especially your knees, well over towards the
hill, and then _let_ them side-slip if they want to. Make no attempt
to lean towards the slope, but keep your weight well outwards and
forwards, imagine that you are making for a spot rather _below_ where
your skis are pointing, and run as _lightly_ as possible, cultivating,
if you can, a sort of semi-sideways _floating_ feeling, which is hardly
describable but which you will certainly recognise if you do as I have
told you.
Generally speaking, the harder and slipperier the snow the more lightly
you should try to run, the softer the snow the more heavily you should
try to drive your skis into it.
You can entirely disregard the hard ruts of ski tracks unless you are
obliged to cross them at a narrow angle. If you cannot help doing this
(which you should try to if running fast) be ready, if one of the
skis or both get turned off their course, to lift one quickly and put
it straight again before you lose your balance. You should never be
afraid of lifting your skis, especially on hard snow; by stepping about
quickly you can not only keep your balance even when running fast, but
can alter your course, though in the latter case you must be careful
_as_ you put the first-lifted ski to the snow again to lift the other
_instantly_, or they will run apart for a moment and probably upset
you. The greater your speed, the less of course will be the change of
direction that you can make safely in one step, but by pattering round
quickly you can turn fairly short when going at a good rate.
When running _straight downhill_ in either normal or Telemark position
either foot may lead, and you should change about, when practising,
until you find you can lead as easily with one as with the other.
When _traversing_ in _normal_ position the upper foot should lead, in
_Telemark_ position, the lower foot--that is to say, that in traversing
the _weighted_ foot should _always_ be the _lower_ one.
The more weight is carried by the lower ski, the less difficulty will
you find in keeping the other one close to the side of it.
Should the upper ski show a tendency to run uphill, away from the
other, put no more weight on it, but merely turn its inner edge
slightly downwards, and press on the toe, when it will run back to its
proper position.
If you have any difficulty in preventing it from running downwards,
and crossing the other, you can slide it to the rear, and drop into
Telemark position, lower foot leading.
Although, generally speaking, you should avoid all effort and hold
yourself easily and loosely, you must, when your balance is disturbed,
make every effort in your power to keep it.
One very often falls simply through expecting to fall, and doing
nothing to save oneself, when a determination not to fall would carry
one through.
Don't be afraid of running straight down the steepest slope, _provided
the ground is open and fairly smooth, the snow easy and safe_,[7] _and
the change of gradient at the bottom not sudden_. Remember that the
pace does not go on increasing, but attains its maximum in a second
or two. It is only while you are gathering way that the sensation is
at all alarming; when full speed is reached--provided the ground be
smooth--a steep slope feels no more difficult than a gradual one. If,
however, there are any undulations--however small--you had better run
down a steep slope in the Telemark position. For though on a moderate
slope you might hardly notice them, or could allow for them as directed
above, on a steep slope the high speed will very much increase their
effect, and to run over a small mound may shoot you into the air if
your legs happen to be rigid at the moment.
Whenever you are actually running freely and not trying to put on
the brake, or stop (explained later), the very best safeguard to the
balance is a desire to go faster.
Should you not happen to want to go faster, pretend you do, if you are
not above such childishness.
No amount of wanting, of course, will affect your speed, but this
mental attitude will enormously increase your steadiness by removing
the fatal tendency to lean backwards.
Similarly, to wish to go slower will not make you do so, but will very
likely be the sole cause of a fall.
Some such sentence as "This is very slow," repeated to oneself as one
goes over any difficult ground, is a more potent spell than might be
imagined.
BRAKING
If you wish to reduce your speed or stop, you can, as a rule, if you
are not going fast--and sometimes even if you are--do so without
altering your course, by making one or both skis move more or less
broadside on. Although I am only now about to describe the different
ways in which this may be done, you should begin to learn them at the
very outset--or even _before_ you try straight-running, if you are very
nervous--and should certainly not attempt to run very fast until you
can brake perfectly by every method described in this chapter, and are
fairly proficient in the turns to be described later on.
_Single-Stemming or Half-Snow-Plough._--For this find a moderate slope
on which the snow is neither very soft nor so hard that you cannot
possibly traverse it without side-slipping--an ordinary practice-ground
in its normal state is just the thing.
Stand with your skis horizontally across the slope; weight the lower
one; lift the upper, and place it pointing steeply enough downhill to
slide perfectly freely, with its tip quite close to the other's, but
far enough behind it for the upper foot to be exactly above the lower
one (Fig. 28).
[Illustration: FIG. 28.--Single-stemming or half-snow-plough.
_Stopping._
_L._ Weighted and edged.
_Going._
_R._ Weighted and edged.
_L._ Unweighted and flattened.]
Now lean towards the upper leg, and bend it until your weight is on
it, facing towards the point of the upper ski and edging it. Then,
keeping the lower leg in exactly the same position, bend its ankle
outwards, and almost, _but not quite_ (see p. 83), flatten the ski.
The flattening of the ski will release you, and you will slide off
in the direction of the upper ski's point, pushing the lower ski,
which must still remain horizontal, forwards and sideways through the
snow--_stemming_ with it in fact. You can go as slowly as you like, or
as fast as the conditions permit, according as you keep the stemming
ski more edged and weighted or less. You can stop suddenly by throwing
your whole weight on to the stemming ski, facing round towards its
point, and quickly bringing the upper ski beside it and forward to the
normal position.
Now make a kick turn (a downhill one for choice), and repeat the
process in the other direction, stemming with the other foot.
Practise this in both directions until you have complete control of
your speed, and can stop yourself almost instantly when moving at a
fair rate, remembering always to face round and bring the upper ski
smartly into the normal position as you stop. Then practise it with the
upper ski pointing more and more steeply downhill.
It is, of course, possible to start stemming in this way when running
freely across the slope with the skis together, and when accustomed to
doing it from a standstill you should also practise this, but only when
running at a moderate pace, as there are steadier and easier ways of
stopping when running fast.
You must, as I have said, hold the lower foot exactly below the upper
one, because in that position you can push along the stemming ski with
least effort, and most quickly throw the weight on it if the other
ski side-slips or you want to stop suddenly. This means that the more
directly downhill you go the farther forward you will have to hold the
lower foot, and the more, consequently, you will have to bend the upper
leg (in order still to keep the weight on the upper ski), eventually
having to lift its heel and finally to _sit_ on it, if you are to stem
almost or quite directly downhill, as it is quite possible to do.
If you find you can do all this fairly comfortably, by all means do
so; if, however, you find that at a certain angle your position on the
upper leg becomes very tiring or unsteady, leave this manoeuvre and try
stemming with _both_ skis, which is also called
_Snow-ploughing._--Start straight downhill, where the slope is quite
gentle, in the normal running position. The moment you are moving bring
your feet level, put the weight on both, raise the outer edges of the
skis by bending your knees inwards a little, and, _without letting the
ski-tips separate, push their heels as wide apart as you possibly can_.
The legs must now be _absolutely_ straight at the knees.
[Illustration: FIG. 29.--Double-stemming or snow-plough. The blackened
parts are those which should be weighted.]
If you keep your knees straight and ankles relaxed the skis will travel
nearly flat--they should _never_, as I have said, be _quite_ flat or
their outer edges will catch and trip you--and there will be but little
braking effect. If you bend your knees inwards a little, and edge your
skis strongly, you will, if the slope is moderate, reduce your pace
gradually and stop. On very icy snow, unless the slope is very gentle,
you cannot stop by snow-ploughing, however hard you edge, but can only
reduce your speed more or less. The [V] position is then, however, a
very useful alternative to the position with the skis slightly apart
and parallel as a safeguard to the balance in case of side-slip. It
of course gives the utmost lateral stability (if the straddle is very
wide, as it always should be), and the straight knees prevent it from
being in the least tiring, while, when the skis are flattened, the
reduction of speed is hardly worth considering. It is therefore usually
preferable to the other position, with its tiring crouch, unless the
slope is steep (and the speed therefore very high) or the ground rough,
when it becomes unsafe on account, not only of its rigidity, but of its
greater fore and aft instability, for with the legs in this position
one cannot move the feet quickly backwards and forwards in the way
described on p. 113. On ground neither steep nor rough enough to make
it unsteady, one can, if the snow is hard, safely take the snow-plough
position quite suddenly when running at full speed. This is very
convenient if when running in normal position one suddenly runs on to
an icy patch.
On hard snow, then, snow-ploughing is only effective for braking
purposes under certain conditions. In soft snow, if that is at all
deep, it is almost useless--except for those who can make an abnormally
wide straddle--for if in soft snow the skis are put in the [V]
position, the inward pressure of the snow against them is so great
that unless the legs can resist it almost _directly_ they are forced
together at once, or, at the best, have to let the skis run almost
parallel, in which case there is not much object in holding them apart
at all. If, however, you are one of the fortunate few who can straddle
more than three quarters of their height and point their feet almost
directly inwards, you will find that snow-ploughing gives you perfect
control, even in soft snow, on all but the steepest slopes, and that
even there you may be able to manage by throwing most of the weight
on one ski and making it slide nearly broadside on while the other
points almost straight downhill, the line of your _course_ being still
directly down the slope, and the legs still straddled as widely as
possible, and straight at the knees. You will, however, only be able to
do this by paying particular attention to the edging of the weighted
ski, for if it is edged either too much or too little it will not slide
at all when you try to move along slowly, and will check you suddenly
and throw you down when you try to stop.
It is important to remember in snow-ploughing that, whether you want
to brake hard or only slightly, the straddle must _always_ be as wide
as possible; the speed should depend on the flattening or edging of
the skis, not on the angle between them. Moreover, if when running
free with skis together you want to take the [V] position, you must
always--even if running fast--do so as _quickly_ as possible (not
forgetting just to lift the outer edges of the skis _before_ you push
them out). Remember also that it is no use putting the feet wide apart
unless _the tips of the skis are close together_ (closer than Plate
XX., p. 139).
You can start snow-ploughing from a standstill on a steep slope either
by taking the position of Plate XIII. and pushing the upper ski round
to the proper angle _as_ you throw your weight on to it, or simply by
thrusting both sticks into the snow below you and leaning on them while
you put the skis in position.
If, for structural reasons, you have only been able to take an academic
interest in the instructions for snow-ploughing in soft snow, you can
now learn a manoeuvre which will enable you in soft snow of any depth
to stem as gradually or as steeply as you choose down a slope of any
steepness.
[Illustration: FIG. 30.--Telemark-stemming.
_Stopping._
_R._ Unweighted.
_L._ Weighted and edged.
_Going._
_R._ Weighted.
_L._ Unweighted and flattened.]
_Telemark Stemming._--Find a steepish slope which is soft enough
to prevent the least tendency to side-slip. Stand with the skis
horizontal. Weight the lower, and place the upper one at an angle which
will let it slide freely, as you did in learning ordinary stemming,
but this time with its front bend touching the lower ankle, and its
tip rather across the lower instep. Edge it normally, _kneel down on
the front of it_, and slide off by flattening the other (Fig. 30). You
are now stemming in what is practically Telemark position; the object
of actually _kneeling on_ the upper ski is to save effort, which, of
course, it does completely. It also gives the utmost steadiness. The
centre of gravity being so low, you can in this position stop yourself
much more suddenly with safety than you can in either snow-ploughing
or ordinary stemming, and can also more safely take up the stemming
position while running freely--if, of course, you then take the
ordinary Telemark position and kneel right down first. In order to stem
straight downhill you must place the upper ski _at right angles_ to the
horizontal lower ski (you may have to get it in position with your hand
before starting from a standstill on a steep slope); its point will
then be right across the front instep. The front leg will be quite
straight and the foot, of course, turned right inwards--a position
which may sound awkward, but which most people find surprisingly
easy, especially on a steep slope. If you want to stop suddenly,
straighten--or rather, diminish the bend of--the upper leg, lifting its
knee from the ski and throwing yourself well forward on to the lower
one. And always remember to face round quickly towards its point as you
do so, and to bring the other ski smartly to normal position by its
side.
Telemark-stemming straight downhill is not only easy in the softest
snow, but also on everything but the very hardest, no matter how steep
the slope.
This manoeuvre, in fact, is an extremely useful one (though neither I
nor, I believe, any other writer on ski-ing had the sense to realise
its value until Herr Bilgeri pointed it out), and you should lose no
time in mastering it--not that it takes much mastering, for the average
beginner can do it with ease at the first attempt. It is no use,
however, for _traversing_, either steeply or gradually, on _hard_ snow,
for the upper ski is then very apt to side-slip and upset the runner.
Nor on _very_ hard and slippery snow is it suitable even for a direct
descent, as it is then difficult to hold enough weight on the stemming
ski to keep the pace down. On this sort of snow, however, as long as it
gives any grip at all--and, when it does not, it is no longer snow, but
_ice_, for which skis are not intended--you can descend the steepest
slopes either directly or obliquely with your speed under perfect
control by
_Side-Slipping._--In order to side-slip straight downhill you simply
stand with your skis horizontal and rather apart, and start by
flattening them a little and throwing your weight well outwards, as
if you wanted to go _fast_ down the hill, not _slowly_. You will then
_not_ go fast, but _will_ keep your weight over your skis and be able
by edging them again to check your pace or stop when you want to. If
you want to stop suddenly, give a little jump and stamp the ski edges
hard into the snow. Do not be too anxious to go slowly, or in the
effort to edge the skis extra hard you will probably lean towards the
slope, push them from under you, and fall down. The skis must remain
horizontal as they slip; if they begin to turn upwards or downwards,
put weight on the toes or heels respectively. If by weighting the
toes you make the skis point downwards a little they will slide
forwards as well as sideways, and the more they are then edged the
more they will move forwards in comparison with their sideway motion.
By side-slipping, therefore, you can traverse slowly at any angle you
choose if the slope is fairly steep.
You can also stop yourself by side-slipping if you wish to when running
a free traverse in normal position. You merely have to make the skis
side-slip and instantly put your weight on the heels until they turn
uphill a little, when you can again edge and stop them.
A little practice will make the whole manoeuvre almost instantaneous;
it is then really a Christiania swing (see p. 175), and, if the snow is
not very soft, is a far quicker and easier way than ordinary stemming
or stopping or checking the pace for a moment. Throw your weight well
outwards to keep it over your skis as they side-slip; your tendency at
first will be to fall towards the hill.
If you ever wish to make a stemming traverse at a _steep_ angle on
a _moderate_ slope where the snow though hard is not quite slippery
enough for you to side-slip down it, you may be somewhat at a loss.
In the Telemark position you will find a tendency to side-slip, and
you may, in the ordinary stemming position, with the lower ski held
horizontally and the weight on the upper one, be unable to manage the
necessary squatting attitude comfortably. You can then traverse in
something between the ordinary stemming and the snow-plough positions
with the upper ski edged outwards and pointing the way you are going,
but with the weight almost equally distributed between it and the
lower, which points somewhat downhill instead of horizontally and is
held with its tip level with the other's, not ahead. The upper knee
must be bent, the lower straight.
We have so far talked only of hard and soft snow, but the snow surface
is sometimes a breakable crust, into which the skis cut, and in which
no sort of stemming is possible. Your only way of going slowly in this
is to traverse at a very slight angle; if you then want to stop, you
must _step round_--that is, you must lift the upper ski, put it down
again pointing horizontally across the slope, and _instantly_ lift the
lower and bring it down parallel with the first. Be careful to throw
your weight well upwards and forwards as you put down the upper ski,
and not to let the lower remain on the snow for a _moment_ after the
first has been brought to it again; it is safest to give a little jump
from one to the other.
Either by stepping round, or by any sort of stemming, you can of course
make a change of direction when traversing if the gradient of the slope
varies; as you pass on to steeper ground, for instance, you can weight
the heel of the stemming ski for a moment until it is again horizontal,
at the same time flattening the running ski a little and letting it
slip down to the angle at which it was pointing before. This is really
an embryo swing, as you will see later; one important reason, in fact,
for learning all the methods of braking thoroughly is that they are
the elements of which the swings are composed, each variety of swing
or turn being either a development of one method of braking, or a
combination of one with another.
When you become more expert you will not often have to stem while
_traversing_ if the ground is open, though even then you will often
find it convenient to brake in one way or other when going straight
downhill. In thick wood, however, you will find it indispensable to
be able to go at a moderate speed in all sorts of snow and at any
gradient. It is also worth remembering that to stem straight downhill
at an ordinary pace is a comparatively _fast_ process. It is not so
pretty and needs much less skill, but it is _quicker_ than running
freely in tacks of an ordinary gradient and connecting them by downhill
turns (explained later).
When running down a narrow path or the like it is sometimes impossible
to brake effectually, as there is not room to put the skis in a wide
[V] position or to Telemark-stem; it may then be permissible to use the
stick or sticks as an aid. Plate XXI. shows a way of doing this. The
arm supported against the thigh gives a firm purchase--firm enough,
in my experience, to hurt the wrist a good deal if the points of the
sticks catch something hard. This manoeuvre is hardly ever necessary
unless the path is very icy; if there is much of this, and you want to
go slowly, you may just as well walk with your skis on your shoulder.
When you can do all that has been explained so far, you may (if
you have steadily refrained from using your stick except as I have
directed) consider yourself quite a respectable ski-runner in a small
way. There will be nothing to prevent you from going for any expedition
of which the uphill climb is within your powers, for whether you are
going uphill or downhill, there is no sort of ground that cannot be
negotiated by one or other of the manoeuvres that I have described.
But, though a perfectly efficient tourist, you will not be a very fast
one downhill until you have learnt how to stop and steer yourself
in any sort of snow, _when running fast_, and will tire yourself
unnecessarily on steep or difficult ground until you can run in zigzags
without coming to a standstill between each tack.
The different ways of doing these things are described in the following
sections.
THE STEMMING TURN
I must here apologise for the extreme ambiguity of ski-ing terminology,
which, however, as I did not invent it, I have not the moral courage to
try to improve. The term "stemming" may be used in several different
senses. In its narrowest sense it means holding the skis in the [V]
position and braking with _one_ of them. More broadly it means braking
with _both_ in the [V] position. It also means braking with the skis in
Telemark position. In fact in its broadest sense it means any sort of
braking except side-slipping with the skis parallel.
In this sense almost any method of turning on skis might, as we shall
see later, be called a "stemming" turn. The expression "stemming turn,"
however, is generally used in a special sense to denote a turn during
which the skis are held in the [V] position with the feet nearly level.
By means of a "stemming turn" you can, as you already know, turn
_uphill_ or stop when traversing; you can also do so from a direct
descent. You can, moreover, turn _downhill_ from a traverse until
you face in the opposite direction and run off on a new tack.
This turn is effected by putting the skis in a more or less wide
[V] position, and either simultaneously or immediately afterwards
_weighting_ and slightly advancing the one that is to be outermost
in turning. To show how in this as in all turns the various factors
of side-slipping, with the weight variously distributed, combined
steering action of both skis, edging, &c., come into play according
to circumstances, it will be necessary to describe in detail the two
different uses of the turn.
For practising these turns find a moderate slope and snow in which
it is easy to stem when running straight downhill; a much trodden
practice-ground is the very thing.
_Uphill Turn to the Left._--You already know how to turn uphill from
a traverse by stemming; the following way of doing it is slightly
simpler. Traverse to the left at an easy gradient in normal position,
weight on right foot. When you want to turn, draw the upper ski a
little to the rear (Fig. 31, _1_) and then push the heels wide apart,
straightening both legs and putting all the weight on the lower heel
(Fig. 31, _2_ and _3_). As the lower ski begins to turn uphill, bring
the other one smartly to its side again in normal position.
This is much the same thing as stopping when stemming with the lower
ski, as described above (page 121), but is rather simpler, for the
uncomfortable crouching position necessary when stemming with the lower
ski is avoided, there is no shifting of the weight from one ski to the
other, and the preparatory movement of drawing back the upper ski can
perfectly well be made simultaneously with the actual turn.
[Illustration: FIG. 31.--Uphill stemming turn to left. The blackened
parts are those which should be weighted.]
To make an uphill stemming turn when running across a slope in normal
position is rather a clumsy process, and it is quite unnecessary to
spend much time in practising it, for an uphill turn from a traverse
can be made more easily and effectively by the Christiania swing, in
the way already explained, or the Telemark, which will be described
later. Just make sure, however, that you _can_ turn uphill in this
way from a traverse in either direction, and then try the turn from a
direct descent, as follows.
Run straight downhill in the stemming position with the weight equally
on both skis and the feet as wide apart as possible, taking care that
the legs are quite straight at the knee, and rigid (Fig. 32, _1_).
[Illustration: FIG. 32.--Uphill stemming turn to left.]
In order to turn to the left (most people find it easiest to learn to
turn to this side first) you have simply to throw all the weight on to
the heel of the right foot and turn the body to face the point of the
right ski. You will begin to turn to the left, and as you do so the
left foot will involuntarily fall slightly to the rear (_2_), when the
steering action due to the relative position of the skis will help the
turn.
If you keep all the weight on the heel of the right foot you will go on
turning until the right ski points slightly uphill, when you will come
to a standstill (_3_). As you do so, be sure to bring the inner ski
quickly to the normal position.
This is extremely simple, and, if you keep both legs quite straight and
the feet wide apart, you can hardly fail to do it correctly.
The mistake you are most likely to make is that of letting the left
knee bend as you begin to come round. If it does so the left ski will
get on its outside edge, and, instead of continuing to skid round, will
only run in the direction in which it is pointing, so that if it does
not run across the other (Plate XXV.), and throw you down,[8] you will
find yourself running obliquely across the slope, stemming with the
right ski only instead of turning uphill and stopping.
It is not sufficient, however, to keep the inner leg straight, for
unless at the same time you keep nearly all weight off it, either the
left ski will get in front and you will begin to face downhill again,
or it will get too much on to its inside edge, and will at least
prevent you from finishing the turn, even if it does not trip you up.
As soon as you can turn to the left in this way, learn to turn to the
right, of course substituting "right" for "left" and "left" for "right"
in the directions.
If, while running straight downhill, you turn and come to a standstill
in the way I have described, you will, when you have stopped, find
yourself a certain distance to one side or the other of your original
course.
This may not always be convenient; you may, for instance, want to stop
while running down an icy road, fenced on each side, and so narrow that
you have only just room enough to stem, and would run into the fence if
you swung to one side in stopping.
In a case of this sort you can turn suddenly and stop in your tracks in
the following way:--
Suppose you are running straight downhill in the double-stemming
position; when you want to stop, give a vigorous push with one
foot--say the left--and so throw all your weight _suddenly_ right
outwards on to the heel of the right foot, turning the body quickly
well round to the left as you do so. If this is done with force and
decision the right ski skids round quickly to a horizontal position,
and as it does so, the left ski comes into the air, is lifted smartly
round, and brought down parallel with and close to the other one. You
then find yourself at a standstill, facing to the left across your
original track, but without having moved to one side of it (Fig. 33).
Just at first you may fail to do this properly through giving a timid,
jerky push with the left foot instead of a steady thrust. This will
prevent your weight from going sufficiently outwards over the right
ski, and the left ski will come to the snow again before you have had
time to lift it round to the side of the other one and before that one
has had time to skid round to right angles with your course. After a
very few trials, however, you should be able to do it correctly, and
you will then find that no great force is necessary, and that the
movement need not even be made particularly quickly provided it be done
with a free swing. In order to give the push you must, of course, bend
the inside knee slightly.
[Illustration: FIG. 33.--Uphill stemming turn to left. The blackened
parts are those which should be weighted.]
Provided the inner ski is brought _parallel_ to the outer one, it
does not matter if it comes to the snow again _before_ the latter has
skidded round to right angles, for then the turn can be finished with
both skis side-slipping together--that is to say, the turn can begin as
a stemming turn and finish as a Christiania, a most useful combination
which is beginning to be known by the dreadful name "Stemmiania," which
I only quote in order to record my dislike for it.
This way of making the turn is practically instantaneous, and is so
convenient that when you have once learnt it you will hardly ever use
the one I described first. By means of it you can stop suddenly when
moving at a very fair rate, especially if you stem hard with both skis
well edged inwards just before making the turn.
Practise this movement without skis at first, and then at a standstill
with skis, on the most slippery snow you can find, trying to make the
outer ski spin right round to right angles.
These uphill stemming turns enable you to stop yourself wherever
the quality of the snow and the gradient allow you to hold the
double-stemming position while running straight downhill. It is no use
attempting to make them on very steep slopes or in snow into which
the skis sink deeply; in either of these cases you will have to stop
yourself by means of the Telemark or Christiania swings, described
later.
I need hardly say that if you merely wish to alter your course and not
to stop yourself, you can finish the turn at any point. You either
wait until the outer, weighted ski is pointing in the direction you
want to go, and then bring the other ski parallel to it in the normal
position and run on at full speed; or, if you still wish to brake, you
turn rather farther until the inner ski is in line with your intended
course, and then shift the weight partly or entirely to that one and
run on stemming.
_Downhill Turn to the Left._--A turn made in a downward direction in
order to join one tack to another when descending a hill in zigzags is
often called an "S" turn, on account of the shape of the track left by
a number of these turns made in alternate directions (Plates XXVI.,
XXXIII., XLII.).
Any downhill turn, therefore, whether made by the stemming turn or
by any other means, can be called an "S" turn. A good many people,
however, having never seen a downhill turn made by any other means
than the stemming turn--or at least the awkward manoeuvre which the
average runner imagines to be the stemming turn--believe "S" turn
and stemming turn to be synonymous.
As will be seen later on, a downhill or "S" turn can quite well be
made by means of the Telemark or Christiania swings, the "S" having no
reference whatever to stemming.
To avoid confusion, I shall not use the term "S" turn at all, but only
speak of a downhill turn.
The best way to practise the turn at first is to run, as before,
straight downhill in the double stemming position for a few yards, then
throw the weight on the left ski as if you meant to turn uphill to the
right and stop (Fig. 34, _1_ and _2_), but just before the left ski
points horizontally across the hill, transfer the weight to the heel of
the right foot, and face round to the left a little.
[Illustration: FIG. 34.--Downhill stemming turn to left (3, 4, and 5).
The blackened parts are those which should be weighted.]
You will find yourself beginning to turn downhill again--the left ski
falling a little behind the other as you do so--and by keeping the
weight on the right foot you will go round until you face across the
slope in the opposite direction (Fig. 34, _3_, _4_, and _5_), when you
can shift the weight to the left foot and reverse the process.
By repeating this you will descend the hill in short zigzags.
The important points are--(1) to hold the stemming position unaltered
with the knees straight, the heels of the skis wide apart, and the tips
close together; (2) to throw the weight well on to the outer ski; and
(3) not to let the inner ski get in front.
The last half of the turn, from the point at which you are facing
straight downhill, is, of course, really an uphill one, identical with
what you have already learnt, and can be finished at any point in any
of the ways already described.
You can start a downhill turn, like an uphill one, from the normal
position while running across a slope, and under these conditions the
turn is, as in the case of the uphill one, rather less easy; this time,
however, it is extremely important to be able to do it, for this is by
far the most useful application of the stemming turn, and you can in
this way, provided the snow be suitable, join one tack to another on
a slope of any steepness, where it would be impossible to run straight
downhill in double stemming position.
Suppose you wish to start a downhill turn to the left while running at
a gentle gradient across a slope in the normal position (_i.e._ with
the weight on the left foot and the right foot in front), the first
thing to do is to turn the right knee and ankle inwards so as to lift
the outer edge of the ski as much as possible. Then, keeping the point
of the right ski ahead of the other, push its heel uphill and out to
the position of _2_, Fig. 35, B, at the same time weighting the _toe_
of the _left_ foot and slightly flattening that ski, which will then
begin to point downwards and give the other more room to turn. As
they turn downwards push their heels wide apart and throw your weight
quickly outwards so that a final thrust of the left leg sends it _full
on to the right heel_ just as you face straight downhill. Almost
simultaneously lift the left ski round to the side of the other and
finish the turn with the skis parallel.
As you lift the inner ski turn (not _lean_) the body inwards just
enough to face squarely towards the point of the outer ski.
If you turn slowly there will be an interval between the pushing round
of the outer ski and the final thrust of the inner leg during which the
skis will be equally weighted. If you turn sharply while running fast
the checking of the outer ski's speed as it comes broadside on will
throw the weight on it at once and lift the inner ski without an effort.
[Illustration: FIG. 35.--Downhill stemming turn to left (two methods).
The blackened parts are those which should be weighted.]
It is also possible to make the turn by putting the weight on the outer
ski _before_ it begins to stem at all, and making it turn downhill by
pressing on the toe (as in Fig. 35, A). I used to think this method the
easier of the two, but have changed my mind about it, and can only
apologise for leading people astray.
Up to this point you have been practising on moderate slopes only, but
it is on steep slopes that you will generally have to use the downhill
stemming turn, and it is on steep slopes that you should practise it
the instant that you can do it neatly on a gentle one.
You will then find a difficulty that has probably not bothered you much
so far. On a steep slope, as you begin to turn downhill, the increase
of speed is sudden and considerable, and if you do not compensate for
this by throwing the weight more and more forwards, the skis will shoot
from under you, and you will sit down.
Don't, however, begin leaning downhill _too soon, while still facing
across the slope_, for that will throw the weight on to the inside
(lower) ski. Simply lean as far forwards over the front of your skis as
possible, so that as they turn downhill your weight will be well over
them.
The difficulty of leaning forward sufficiently on a steep slope is
partly due to the tendency to stand with the weight vertically above
the feet, as one would do when _walking_ downhill. The very best plan
for overcoming this difficulty, and one which will make it infinitely
easier for you to perform the turn quickly and correctly, is to keep
your eyes fixed on the ground at your feet while you are turning, and
to imagine that it is almost or quite level. You will then naturally
hold yourself at right angles to the slope no matter how steep that may
be.
You will find this downhill turn of very little practical use on a
steep slope until you can make it quite shortly and sharply; for if you
make a long curve, the pace increases so much in the middle of it that
you are almost sure to lose control, and fail to finish the turn, even
if you do not fall down.
The reason why to lift round the inner ski at the middle of the turn is
safer than to keep it on the snow throughout is because the curve is
thus considerably shortened.
The act of suddenly throwing yourself very far forward over the front
of your skis as you face downhill will make them hang back a little
for an instant--all the more so for the fact that at this point the
stemming action of both is at its maximum--and at this moment it is
easy to give a push with, and then to lift round, the inner ski.
Be careful, in lifting the ski round, to bring it down again exactly
parallel to the outer ski; for the inner one, if it comes down pointing
_towards_ the outer one, will instantly run across it and upset you;
while if pointing _away_, it will run uphill and draw your feet apart
with a jerk that will probably have the same result.
Although, as I have said, you should turn the body a little in
throwing the weight outwards, it is no use attempting to lean or swing
it the way you _want_ to go. You must simply throw it forwards and
_outwards_--that is, rather _away_ from where you want to go. If you
lean the way you want to go you will simply put weight on the inner
ski, which will then either trip you up or make you run away straight
downhill instead of finishing the turn. Indeed, paradoxical as it
may sound, you should, in a sense, try _not_ to turn; manoeuvre your
skis as I have directed, and _try to keep a straight course, turning
sideways as you do so_, and you will probably come round without
difficulty.
The faster you are running at the moment of beginning the turn, the
more difficulty you will at first have in making it.
You had better, therefore, when learning it, run at a gradient which
will only just allow you to keep moving smoothly (I am speaking of
the gradient of your course across the slope, _not_ of the gradient of
the slope itself), otherwise, before beginning the turn, you may be
inclined to stem with the lower ski in order to check the pace, and,
when the lower ski is put in stemming position before the other is
pushed round, there is a tendency for the weight to get too far back
in the effort of starting the turn, which then misses fire. If you are
bound to slow up before you begin the turn, do so by side-slipping with
both skis and turning a little uphill (_i.e._ make a slight Christiania
swing) as described in the last section, p. 131.
On an icy and steep slope it is, of course, especially necessary to
make the turn very sharply if you are not to lose control in the middle
of it. You can do this by running very slowly before turning, and then
quickly putting the upper ski far round, and simultaneously weighting
it by means of what is practically a _jump_ from the other ski, which
comes into the air almost before the first is weighted, and is brought
down parallel with it almost instantly. This is well worth practising
assiduously, for it makes all the difference to the safety of a turn on
very steep and icy ground.
Do not be contented until you can make a short, sharp turn (both to
right and left, of course) with perfect steadiness, on the steepest
slope you can find. For although on steep slopes a Telemark or
Christiania swing is the best way of making an _uphill_ turn, there is
no means so reliable as the stemming turn for turning _downhill_, no
matter how steep the slope, _provided the snow is hard, or that, if
soft, it is shallow_. It is almost useless, though, to attempt it in
deep soft snow. At the best you will probably only get halfway round
with an uncomfortable effort, and then the inner ski will be forced
back, and come round after the other in Telemark position, in which, as
you will find later, it might just as well have started.
At the worst you may be tempted to drag yourself round with the stick
in the position shown in the photograph (Plate XXVIII.).
This position, which, I hope, is becoming less fashionable, is the
very essence of incorrectness and awkwardness, and is an infallible
sign either of poor nerve or of bad teaching. Here the weight falls
principally on the inside ski and the stick, instead of entirely on
the outer ski, while the skis are held parallel, or nearly so, instead
of in the [V] position. The general position is a crouching one with
the knees bent, instead of an erect one with straight and rigid legs;
except for a feeble stemming action of the outer ski, which is too much
edged, the turning effect is entirely due to the drag of the stick.
Those who make use of this method generally refer to it as a stemming
turn, "S" turn, or Alpine curve, using either of these terms in
contradistinction to the terms "Telemark" and "Christiania," evidently
under the impression that an "S" curve can only be made by stemming,
and that by means of the Telemark or Christiania it is only possible
to turn uphill and stop. The only correct title for this manoeuvre is
"stick turn."
When I say that this method is awkward and incorrect, I do not merely
mean that it is ugly, for I suppose that to the unsophisticated eye its
attitude is no more ugly than the exaggerated straddle of the correct
stemming position. There are two strong reasons for considering it
execrable in style and utterly to be avoided.
In the first place it is a waste of energy, because it takes a
considerable muscular effort to make a turn in this way, even when
the snow is easy, and an exhausting one when it is not; while by
substituting correct methods one can always turn without the smallest
strain. The second objection to it is that it is inefficient, for by
turning in this way it is impossible to make a short curve, especially
in deep soft snow; and until a runner can turn sharply in snow of any
quality and on a slope of any steepness (I do not say at any speed), he
by no means can be said to have proper control of his skis. I do not
for a moment deny that it is the easiest way of turning, in the sense
that it is the one requiring the least skill. But any one who knows
what can be done by correct methods, who has ordinary nerve, and who
does not look on ski-running solely as a means of locomotion, for which
a technique demanding the minimum of skill is the one to be preferred,
will shun the "stick turn" as he would the pestilence.
Finally, let me remind you once more that in stemming--and this holds
equally good whether you are turning or going straight ahead--the skis
should never be quite flat; their outer edges must be lifted a little
even when the snow is easy, rather more so when it is not (see p. 83).
To be quite accurate I ought to have said the skis must not be _kept_
flat, for obviously they must during a downhill turn each pass through
the flat position, since their edging, on the tack before the turn, is
the reverse of what it is on the tack that follows it. This change of
edge, as a matter of fact, constitutes one of the difficulties of the
turn. The outer ski makes the change easily enough, for the outer ankle
(which is bent inwards in order to start the turn) does not have to
alter its position while the change of edge takes place. But the inner
ski, if kept on the snow throughout the turn, is by no means easy to
manage at the moment that the change has to be made. This ski remains
on its inside edge until nearly the end of the turn, and if allowed to
remain so for a moment too long is very apt to catch on this edge and
run across the other or refuse to come round, especially on a steep
slope, if (as he should have done) the runner has made a very wide
straddle when facing straight downhill.
This difficulty is entirely avoided when the turn is finished by the
_lifting_ of the inner ski (the change of edge then taking place, so to
speak, in the air). Indeed, although this lifting of the ski may sound
somewhat acrobatic to any one who has not tried it, it is really quite
the reverse. It needs far less adroitness than does a neat and steady
finish of the turn with the ski kept on the snow, and is, in fact, not
only the quicker and more effective, but also considerably the easier
and safer of the two methods.
The runner can only make a true stemming turn when going at a moderate
pace. By finishing it as a Christiania, however, he can turn either
uphill or downhill when going much faster. In fact the sooner the skis
are brought parallel, the greater the pace at which the turn can be
started; at very high speeds only a trifling preliminary stem being
either necessary or safe.
_Short Directions for a Downhill Stemming Turn to the Left_
From normal running position, right foot leading, left weighted.
Bending and turning inwards right knee, ankle, and foot, push heel
of right ski outwards and forwards to the widest possible stemming
position--its tip close to but ahead of the other's--at the same time
slightly flattening the _left_ ski and pressing on its _toe_. As the
skis turn downwards push their heels wide apart, quickly shift your
weight forwards and outwards, and, with a push from the inner ski,
throw it _full on the right heel_ as you face straight downhill--at the
same time lifting the left ski quickly round to the side of the other
and finishing the turn with the skis parallel.
When moving slowly this is to be done in two motions; when moving fast,
in one continuous one.
Fix the eyes on the tips of the skis and try to lean in that direction
only, not inwards.
_N.B._--The latter half of this turn is, of course, really an uphill
one, separate directions for which are therefore unnecessary.
THE TELEMARK SWING
Although by stemming you can make either up or downhill turns with
perfect ease either on a hard icy surface or in shallow loose snow, you
will find it very difficult, if not impossible, to make a stemming turn
in loose snow of more than a certain depth or density--unless you drag
yourself round with the stick. By means of the Telemark swing, however,
you can easily make turns in any sort of loose snow, and can do so on
any slope, no matter how steep it may be.
If you can already both run and stem in the Telemark position, with
either foot leading, you will find it a very simple matter to learn the
swing. In fact you may be said to have _learnt_ it after a fashion, for
to stop by Telemark stemming is to make a clumsy Telemark uphill turn.
For practising this swing, find a moderate slope where the snow is soft
and, for choice, deep or dense enough to make a stemming turn difficult.
_Uphill Turn to the Left._--Run at a gentle gradient across the slope
with the hill on your left and the weight on the lower (right) foot,
not, however, in the normal position, with the left foot advanced, but
in the Telemark position, with the right foot leading.
[Illustration: FIG. 36.--Uphill Telemark swings to left (A from a
traversing, B from a direct descent). The blackened parts are those
which should be weighted.]
The left ski should then be so far back that its bend is level with the
right ankle, the left heel should be raised, and the left leg perfectly
relaxed, with the knee nearly touching the ski. The right knee should
be perpendicularly over the foot, and _both knees be pressed inwards_.
This is only preparatory, and you should, in this position, be able to
run directly across the slope at whatever gradient you choose.
As soon as you are fairly under weigh, make the swing as follows:
Turn the right knee and foot a little inwards, placing the front ski
slightly at an angle with the other; at the same time edge the right
ski inwards and put the whole weight on the right _heel_, pressing it
down and trying to lift the toes.
You will at once begin to turn uphill. The moment you start turning
lean _more forwards_ and face full towards the point of the front ski.
As you stop moving weight the toe of the front foot, press the back
knee inwards, and so bring the skis parallel.
Unless you are on the look-out for it, you will find a tendency, as
you begin the turn, to lean inwards (towards the hill), or backwards,
putting weight on the left foot, and at the same time to straighten the
right knee and relax the right ankle, more or less flattening the ski
(Plate XXX.). As a result you will, if you do not fall inwards at once,
probably finish the swing in an awkward straddled position, the right
ski pointing uphill, almost at right angles to the other ski, which
will not have altered its direction, and the weight on both feet. Or
else you will find that the weight on the left ski will make it run up
level with the other again, which will prevent you from turning, or
across it, which will throw you down.
It will help you to avoid this inward lean if you remember that, as
explained on p. 82, your right ski in turning does not cut round
directly as a skate does, but slips sideways as well as forwards, and
that, therefore, during the swing your right _foot_, instead of moving
more and more to the left of your original line of progress, will at
first move to the right of, or below it; and, if the hill is steep or
the snow shallow, will hardly be above it even at the end of the swing.
It is obvious, then, that if you are to remain properly balanced on
your right ski, very little inward lean is necessary, and the usual
directions for leaning the body inwards while making the swing are
most misleading. In fact, although one really has to lean inwards when
the turn has begun, the instinct to avoid an outward fall makes one
overdo this to such an extent that at first it is better to try to
throw the weight rather to the right and outwards, downhill (but well
_forwards_), in order to get the proper balance.
In the Telemark swing the edging of the leading ski is an important
factor in the turn, and there is more forward motion in proportion
to the side-slip than in the stemming turn, which is almost entirely
a skidding turn. Indeed, when the swing is made while running fast in
deep soft snow (which reduces the side-slip to a minimum), the runner,
as he comes at right angles to his original course at the end of the
swing, may find it necessary to lean consciously inwards, but only at
the end--_never under any circumstances at the beginning of the swing_.
In this swing, as in the stemming turn, it is a mistake, when
practising, to look the way you _want_ to go, as is sometimes
advised. You must only look _the way you are actually going at the
moment_--_i.e._ rather to the outside of the point of the leading ski.
It is also useless to try to _force_ the turn by swinging the body or
in any other way; and, as in the stemming turn, it is better to think
nothing at all about turning, simply confining your attention to the
weighting and position of the skis, and trying, in a sense, to go
straight on. The great thing at first is to prevent the weight getting
back on the back foot.
There is, of course, no real necessity for running in the Telemark
position before beginning the swing, but to do so whilst learning
it gives you less to think about when starting the turn. As soon
as you get a little accustomed to it you can run in normal position
with the upper foot leading until you wish to turn, and can then
drop into Telemark position, lower foot leading, and begin the swing
simultaneously.
When you can make the swing to the left, run across the slope in the
opposite direction, and learn to make it to the right in the same way
(of course substituting "left" for "right" and "right" for "left" in
the directions).
When you can do this, practise it to the left again, this time running
more directly downhill than at first, and then in the same way to the
right, until you can at last swing to a standstill either right or
left when running _straight_ downhill (Fig. 36, B). But do not, at any
stage, run far before beginning to swing; get fairly under weigh and
make the swing, then run on and do it again, and so on until you have
gone as far as you wish. In this way you will get less climbing uphill
in proportion to the amount of practice.
It is at the end of a swing made when running straight downhill that
you are almost sure to find it necessary to lean inwards if the snow is
deep and the speed high, but till you find a distinct tendency to fall
outwards you need not concern yourself about it.
Of course, instead of coming to a standstill at the end of a swing,
you can, if you wish, stop turning before the leading ski comes to a
horizontal position, and can run on obliquely down the hill. In order
to do this you have only, as soon as the leading ski is pointing the
way you want to go, to shift the weight from the heel to the toe, stand
erect, and bring the back ski to the front in the normal position.
As soon as you can swing both to left and right when running straight
downhill, learn to make a downhill turn ("S" turn), which will enable
you to join one tack to another when descending a slope in zigzags.
_Downhill Turn to the Left._--In this use of the swing the skis are
held as before, and weighted in much the same way, but there are one or
two points to be noticed.
Run across the slope at a moderate gradient with the hill on your
right, in Telemark position with the right foot leading (or start in
normal position, and when you mean to turn, shift the weight from left
foot to right and drop back the left ski).
[Illustration: FIG. 37.--Downhill Telemark swing to left at various
stages. The blackened parts are those which should be weighted.]
Then, lifting the outer edge of the right ski, turn the right foot and
knee inwards, and so place the ski at a slight angle with the other, as
in starting an uphill swing. But, while in an uphill swing this angle
should be very slight indeed and the body should _immediately_ turn
towards the point of the front ski, in a downhill swing the angle must
be a trifle wider, and the body must remain facing the point of the
_back_ ski until both have turned far enough for the front one to point
nearly straight downhill. The stemming of the front ski, in fact, and
the combined steering action of both, which in an uphill turn should
hardly be perceptible, should in a downhill one be more pronounced.
The weight, moreover, must just at first be placed on the _toe_ of the
front foot to help that ski to turn downwards.
The moment you are fairly heading downhill, throw the whole weight on
to the _heel_ of the front ski, face towards its point, and finish the
swing as before (Fig. 37).
The faster you are running at the moment of beginning the swing, the
sooner you can transfer the weight from the toe to the heel, and face
in the direction of the leading ski; in fact, from a _very_ fast
traverse, a downhill Telemark swing is practically made in exactly the
same way as an uphill one, the preliminary stem of the front ski and
the weighting of the toe being barely perceptible.
In putting the weight on the toe at the beginning of the swing, take
great care not to poke the foot forward, but to keep the knee well over
it; otherwise you are sure to take the weight right off it.
Be on your guard also against the tendency to try to start the swing
by _leaning_ to the left, for, if you do this, you will either fall
downhill or get the skis apart. Simply lean well forward, look in that
direction only, and don't think of trying to turn, but rather try to
go on across the slope, letting your skis carry you round.
As you turn downwards of course the pace increases, and you must
lean more forward, but you will find it less difficult to do this
sufficiently during the Telemark swing than during a stemming turn.
The great secret is to keep the right knee well forward over the foot,
to try to lean over the front of the ski, and to keep your eyes on the
ground at your feet, trying to imagine it flat, as I advised in the
case of the stemming turn.
The Telemark swing, when executed correctly, at high speed, requires
no sustained muscular effort except that of holding the leading ski
on its inside edge and pressing down the heel. In deep soft snow this
is easy enough, if the knee is well over the leading foot and all the
weight on that ski, but in shallow snow it is sometimes difficult, at a
high speed, to prevent the ankle from bending outwards, which flattens
the ski and makes it skid outwards with an irregular, jerky movement,
leaving the weight on the back foot. To prevent this, press the knee
in well, turn the outside of the foot hard upwards, and press the toe
upwards against the toe-strap.
This will give the sensation of grinding the inner side of the heel
into the snow, and you should try to increase the pressure as the swing
proceeds.
Strictly speaking, a very slight flattening of the front ski hastens
the start of an uphill swing _from a traverse_. But this flattening
should be merely momentary, and it is so difficult to make it so and
_instantly_ to edge the ski again that it is safer to leave it out
altogether.
Neither allow the back ski to come forward to the normal position, nor
weight it until the swing is quite finished and you are either standing
still or running off in a new direction.
It may seem that, owing to the position, the Telemark swing calls for
more delicate balancing than the other methods of turning. There is
really not so much difference, for in either the stemming turn or, as
will be seen later, in one form of the Christiania swing, when these
are properly executed, the weight must for a time be balanced almost
entirely on one ski. It is, however, more difficult to avoid a fall in
case of an error of balance or of unexpected side-slip in the Telemark
swing than in the Christiania or stemming turns, for in the two latter
the unweighted foot is in a position to receive the weight and help
the balance, while in the former it can only do so in a very slight
degree. Moreover, it is especially at the _finish_ of the swing (when
balancing is most difficult), in the Telemark, that the weight must
be _entirely_ on the one ski, while both the Christiania and stemming
turn can, and should, be finished with the weight equally on both. If,
however, the Telemark is only employed in soft snow of fair depth, the
side-slip will be slight and perfectly regular, and for that reason
will not disturb the balance much.
On an icy surface, or in shallow loose snow, although it is easy
enough to come round with a Telemark swing, the irregular side-slip
as the swing ends makes it difficult to keep the balance; but on snow
of this kind, which is particularly suitable for the stemming turn or
Christiania, there is no necessity to use the Telemark at all.
Practise this swing at first on a moderate slope, and then on steeper
ones, until you can finally make short downhill turns on the steepest
slope you can find. But do not, at any rate at first, waste time in
trying to learn it where the quality of snow makes it difficult.
If at first, through nervousness or bad balance, you have much
difficulty with the Telemark, you can learn it by easy stages either
(1) from a standstill, (2) from the snow-plough position, or (3) from
Telemark stemming.
(1) Place yourself in the starting position of Plate XIII. Throw your
weight full on to the heel of the right ski, pushing it a trifle
farther outwards as you do so, and sinking into Telemark position as it
slides off. If you almost simultaneously face round towards its point
and bring the other ski to its side by pressing the left knee inwards,
you will swing round to the left to a standstill almost before you have
moved.
Or, holding yourself back with your sticks, you can place your skis in
Telemark position, both pointing straight downhill. Then letting your
sticks go, you can swing round instantly to a standstill.
(2) While snow-ploughing straight downhill, throw the whole weight out
on to the heel of one ski, turning towards its point as you do so, and
dropping the other back into Telemark position. A downhill turn, in the
same way, can, as I have already said, be started by snow-ploughing and
finished as a Telemark.
(3) To learn a downhill swing, traverse very slowly in Telemark
position, upper ski leading, but _kneeling down on and fully weighting
the lower ski_, then turn the upper ski steadily as far round as
possible into Telemark stemming position pointing downhill, immediately
afterwards shifting the weight gradually forwards on to it, but _not
letting the angle between the skis diminish until you are facing
straight downhill_, when you can turn towards the front ski's point and
bring the other round parallel.
I mention these kindergarten methods of learning the swing because
I have found them really valuable for giving a nervous beginner
confidence, but, if you try them, you must remember that to start the
swing either from snow-ploughing or p
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