THE STICK.
The stick is a good servant, but a bad master. It is little used by first-class runners, except to enable them to increase the speed by punting. There can, however, be no doubt that it greatly assists a beginner in preserving his balance on difficult ground and in turning. On the other hand, it is equally certain that it is frequently the cause of his adopting a bad style, of spoiling his balance, and of hindering or entirely blocking his progress in the art of turning. To jump with a stick in the hand is most dangerous, and, of course, there is always the possibility of the stick being lost or broken on tour.
Accordingly there are those who recommend the beginner to leave this part of his outfit at home; and much is to be said in favour of such advice, especially in the case of a young and active pupil. When, however, it is argued that anybody who can go on ski without a stick will not have any difficulty in subsequently taking to one, we venture to differ. Perhaps in rare cases it may be so, but we have had a somewhat extensive experience of beginners of all ages, and we have always found it otherwise. The novice who has learnt without a stick seems to be greatly embarrassed when one is first placed in his hand. Moreover, we have met not a few ski-runners, no longer novices, who make very pretty Telemark and Christiania swings on the practice ground with hands free, but who break down hopelessly on tour when encumbered with a stick. But everybody is agreed that a stick of some sort or other should be taken on tour, and we fail to see the use of these pretty manœuvres if they cannot be accomplished when really most required. This, however, is far from being the whole case for the pole. What is your poor elderly friend to do when he tumbles in deep snow? It frequently requires considerable activity to get up under such circumstances, and what is here mentioned half in jest might really be an ugly matter. Besides, nobody over twenty-five can be expected to enjoy continual struggling head downwards. People get exhausted, people begin to think that it is impossible to learn, and people take to some inferior sport which they find easier, and therefore more amusing. Did you mutter “Let them go”? Nay; but there we touch the very root of the matter. Is ski-running merely a pretty form of athletics for the few, or is it a noble sport for the people, leading them forth from stuffy houses and narrow roads to the glories of the winter landscape? Surely the latter; and we would rather the runner sat on his pole at every hill and visited the woods and mountains than that he was the cleverest performer on the practice ground and went nowhere else. “But,” it is said, “if the beginner accustoms himself to run with a stick in his hand he will be quite helpless when he loses it or breaks it, or when he wishes to jump.” This is, of course, to some extent true, but the case is not so bad as all that. In reality, as above hinted, it is a good deal easier to run without a stick than with one after a certain stage has been reached; our experience is that the more advanced pupil soon learns to appreciate this, and that the transition from stick to no stick is seldom difficult. Besides, there is no reason to carry matters to extremes and never to practise with the arms free.
Thorwald Hansen. King’s Prizeman, Norway, ’05.
Photo by Th. Thorkelsen.
Our advice, then, is:—Begin by carrying a stick in the hand, but use it only to overcome a difficulty. Endeavour to be as independent of it as possible, and practise sometimes without it.
Shall the ski-runner use two sticks or one? and shall it or they be furnished with a basket arrangement at the end (see Fig. 12)? These are questions which have also been much discussed, and frequently rather unprofitably. We think that it all depends on circumstances. Two light bamboos with wicker-work discs (Norwegian Trindser) at the end are very serviceable when one has got beyond the beginner’s stage. They help one up hill and along the level, and down hill they may be trailed behind in each hand, or on difficult ground held together and used as one. The discs are, of course, intended to prevent the point penetrating the snow to too great a depth—not to act as brakes. But on very steep and hard mountain sides where one may find oneself—sometimes with a precipice below—they are far from being a source of comfort. On such occasions one prefers to have a single stout staff, which one can thrust deeply into the snow, and which one knows will not slip or break. And in general we have not found two sticks to be of much service in the high Alps, though for lower excursions in Switzerland and in the Black Forest and everywhere in Norway we prefer them. The novice, however, should, we think, begin with a simple staff of good ash or other strong wood, without any disc at the end. He is sure to require to use his stick to some extent (indeed, we shall advise him lower down to do so), and he would probably only break light double sticks. He should get into the habit of holding his stick in either hand, and should begin to practise with two as soon as he thinks he is far enough advanced to do so. In choosing his stick he will select one about as long as from the ground to the top of his shoulder. It should be furnished with a metal ferrule and a spike at the lower end, and a broad leather loop at the top for the hand.
Fig. 12.—Disc for bottom of ski stick, attached by metal ears. Staub of Zürich’s pattern.
The double bamboo sticks should also be about as long as from the ground to the shoulder. They are best out from the root end of the plant, where it is strongest; the root also serves as a convenient lump for the hand to hold. The discs are best attached by a metal arrangement, as shown in [Fig. 12], and not by boring a hole in the cane and passing a piece of leather through it, as is common in Norway. The one method holds for a long time; the other breaks very soon.