General Hints
Ski-jumping to the ordinarily constituted person who tries it for the first time is extremely alarming. Although when the whole of the hillside is of the same steepness he may from the starting-point see something of the lower part of the slope, the exact spot on which he will land is nearly always hidden from the jumper until just before he reaches the edge of the platform, and even from that point it is still invisible if the platform is built back from the edge of a steep slope. When the lower part of the jumping-hill is steeper than the upper, as it nearly always is, the platform, seen from above, appears to be projecting over the edge of a cliff.
This at first gives all but exceptionally bold spirits an irresistible desire to shrink back on approaching it, and it usually takes one some time to overcome this desire, even after realising that there is practically no danger at all. Even when the jumper feels no fear his natural disinclination to make his spring until he can see where he is going to land will for some time tend to make him defer the “Sats” until too late.
The instinct to shrink back is, at any rate at first, the principal difficulty in ski-jumping, and I think you will find that the best way to overcome it is, in a sense, to give way to it—that is, to start under conditions which are as little alarming as possible and to increase the difficulty by very slow degrees.
Begin by making very short jumps on a quite moderate slope, no steeper below than above the platform, which must be quite low and long.
The fact of the slope being a gentle one does actually add to the difficulty of standing, but only to a very slight extent if the platform is quite low; and this form of hill is so much the least alarming, that I advise you to choose it for your first attempts.
Then make the same kind of jump on a fairly steep slope.
Then build your platform, still quite low, rather back from the edge of as steep a slope as you can find, the slope above it being a moderate one. Begin here with quite small jumps, and gradually start farther and farther back until you can make, with fair certainty of standing, as long a jump as the form of the hill and platform will permit; taking care, of course, that the lower slope is of ample length, and that there is no sudden change of angle where it joins the level, for this causes really bad falls.
After this you can make things more difficult for yourself in various ways, such as increasing the height of the platform, or building it at the very edge of a steep slope instead of rather back from it, or making it point upwards so as to form a “squirt jump.”
“A squirt jump” on a moderate slope is excellent practice. The considerable difference in angle between the platform and the alighting ground makes it necessary for the learner to throw himself well forward in making the “Sats,” and the fact that he drops from a good height on to comparatively flat ground makes the shock sufficient to compel him to bend his knees and take the Telemark position on landing. Only jumps of a few yards should be made in this way, however. The shock is too great for safety if the drop is a really long one.
On no account allow yourself to forsake easy hills for more difficult ones until on the former you can make your jumps in perfect style, correct to the smallest detail.
It is only by acquiring an absolutely perfect style that you can make anything but the smallest and easiest jumps with any certainty of standing, and for this reason the only way to gain confidence is to improve your style.
It may be a fine moral discipline to force yourself over jumps of an alarming size from the very first, but it will not make you a better jumper; for if you are very nervous you will be able to think of nothing until the jump is finished, and so will learn nothing and have no better prospect of standing at the twentieth jump than at the first.
After a course of this it is not unlikely that the last state of your nerve will be worse than the first.
It is a good thing to jump occasionally on big hills almost from the first if you can do so without feeling very nervous, but do not give up small jumps until your style is perfect, otherwise it never will be.
In Norway the style of the jump is considered as important as, if not more so than, its length. At a competition a jumper receives marks according to the manner in which he performs each stage of the jump—the approach, the “Sats,” the flight through the air, the landing, the rest of the run, and the swing at the finish. Under certain circumstances even a fall is not considered greatly to a jumper’s discredit. If, for instance, a man makes a jump in good style and is evidently steady on landing, but, after running a few yards, loses his balance on a bad bit of ground, he may score higher than a man who jumps rather farther and finishes without falling, but does so in very bad style. I do not mean to say that merely dribbling over the edge in a graceful attitude is encouraged, for to jump as hard as possible is part of good style, and to receive any consideration a jump must, as to length, be within reasonable distance of the maximum allowed by the form of the hill and platform.
Those who jump farthest, however, almost invariably jump in the best style, and a very long standing jump in really bad style is sure to be a fluke; so that in rewarding the most accurate jumpers the Norwegians probably reward those who in the aggregate have jumped the greatest distances, whatever their performance on any single occasion may be.
I agree, however, with Mr. Richardson in thinking that this system is likely to lead to too much stress being laid on the purely ornamental side of style, and that on the whole it would be much better to consider only the length of the jump and whether the jumper stands or falls on landing. Always bearing in mind, then, that it is only a means to the end of jumping as far and of landing as steadily as possible, do your utmost to improve your style, watch for faults, and get other people to criticise you as well. Check at the outset any tendency to acquire any of the following bad habits:—
In the crouching position before the “Sats”:
Separating your feet or knees; only bending slightly, instead of crouching quite low.
In the “Sats”:
Making a feeble, timid effort, and not straightening out completely, instead of springing smartly and vigorously to an erect position, with body and legs in a perfectly straight line.
In the air:
Bending at the hips or knees; separating the skis, not keeping them parallel and in the same plane; letting their heels drop; not keeping the feet level; not bringing the knees together before landing.
Landing:
Landing with the skis apart, or edged outwards, or not parallel, or with one more ahead than the other; letting their heels touch the snow first; landing with straight legs (or very bent ones); not dropping into Telemark position.
There is a method of jumping known in Norway as the “traekke op,” in which, during the flight through the air, the feet are drawn up as close as possible to the body, which is bent forward. This diminishes the resistance of the air and perhaps slightly increases the length of the jump, but is considerably more difficult than the upright method, because it has a greater tendency to make the jumper land leaning backwards, or with the knees and feet separated so that the skis are pointed apart, or with the legs so much bent that they are liable to collapse from the shock.
In Norway this method is generally considered less good style than the other.
If you wish to try it you had better make the “Sats” in the ordinary way, straightening out completely before you begin to draw up the legs, and almost completely again before landing. Be sure also, in lifting the feet, to raise the toes well in order to avoid any risk of plunging the points of your skis into the snow on landing.
It is very good practice for the balance to make jumps in this way when you cross small undulations in the course of a run, or even when the ground is quite smooth. You will then, of course, have to draw up your feet the moment you leave the ground. Be careful, by holding your knees together, to keep your skis from pointing outwards as you land.
An expert when running fast can in this way jump a low fence or, to be precise, an obstacle 2 feet or so high.
In spite of all that I have said about the necessity for taking it gradually, and keeping off big hills at first, you need not be afraid of hurting yourself much, no matter how far you may jump, provided the hill and platform be properly arranged, for in that case an accident is almost impossible. You are far more likely to meet with one when running at a comparatively low speed on tour, if the snow is soft and deep.
To be able to jump even moderately well will enormously improve your running generally, and will give you a confidence and dash that can hardly be acquired in any other way.
It is an excellent plan for the beginner to practise all the motions of jumping while running down a slope, without any platform, and at first without even a change of gradient. Make a mark on the ground; run towards it, crouching; make the “Sats” as you reach it, springing into the air if possible; drop into Telemark position, and straighten up again. Practise this until on a slope where there is a slight change of gradient you can make a jump of 3 or 4 yards steadily, and you will find things come much easier when you try from a platform.
Finally, let me remind you of the childish plan that I have already advocated, of pretending that you want to go faster than you are actually moving. You can now pretend that you want to stay in the air as long as possible—unless you really want to, which is unlikely at first.
The man who wants to make a long jump is much more likely to stand than the one who merely wants not to fall.
Short Directions for the Jump.—Run in normal position until within about 15 yards of the platform’s edge (not so close if running very fast), then bring your feet level and, keeping your knees pressed together and well forwards, crouch down as low as possible. When the hands can touch the ankles draw them right back.
Just before reaching the edge of the platform make the “Sats” by either of the following methods:—
1. Without raising the heels or moving the feet or legs below the knees, swing your arms forward and upward and straighten yourself smartly until your body and thighs are in a line with the lower part of the legs. You will then, if you have moved from the knees only, be leaning well forward.
2. Swinging the arms as before, spring vigorously almost straight upwards from the platform, giving the body a slight forward tilting motion as you do so, and straightening out completely from head to foot, but this time raising the heels and finishing the spring from the toes.
On completing the “Sats,” hold the erect position during the flight through the air, keeping the feet level and close together and the skis parallel to each other and to the slope below.
Just before landing press the knees together, and, as you feel your skis touch the snow, but not until then, drop into Telemark position.
The moment you feel steady straighten up again, finish your run in the normal position, and swing or jump round.
HOW TO RUN ACROSS COUNTRY
As soon as you have acquired a moderate proficiency in the various manœuvres that have been described, you should have little difficulty in getting through a run quickly and comfortably without feeling any temptation to use your stick when once the descent has begun.
The following hints may help you when you go for an expedition:—
In the first place, be sure, especially if you are going far, that you are taking everything you can possibly want—spare clothing, food, dark glasses, wax and rag, knife, sealskin, climbing-irons, repair outfit, map, compass, lantern, matches, &c., if you decide that any or all of these things are necessary.
If the first part of the climb is along a beaten path, it will probably save time to cover that on foot. You can then either drag the skis after you by a string tied to the holes in their tips, or can carry them. Most people eventually prefer the latter method.
The best way of carrying the skis is to place them sole to sole (tie them so if you like), and then either to rest them almost horizontally on the shoulder, points forward, and hold them near the bend, or to lean them nearly upright against the shoulder, points up, and, with the arm hanging almost straight, to hold them by the heel ends (Plates [LVIII.] and [LIX.]).
They can also be carried by a sling from the shoulder, a convenient plan if any scrambling is to be done.
If you are climbing the hill by the route that you mean to follow during the run down, you should take every opportunity of making observations which will be useful to you later on, and will enable you to make the descent as quickly and easily as possible.
Try to plan out exactly how you will take the run down.
Notice all the peculiarities of the ground and snow, and fix in your head the principal landmarks. But remember that the ground will look very different when approached from above, and therefore keep on looking backwards at what you have passed.
Pay particular attention to the points where the angle of the slope changes, in order that when from above you are running towards an invisible piece of steeper ground, you may have the clearest possible idea of what to expect.
The actual climbing will at first give you a good deal to think of.
The ordinary procedure, when several ski-runners are climbing a hill, is for one to lead and the rest to walk in his track in single file.
If the snow is soft and deep the leader’s work may be very exhausting, and each of the party will have to take his turn.
If you are leading, make your tacks as long as possible to avoid wasting time in kick-turns. Remember all that has been said about adjusting your course to the contour of the hill so that you mount at a steady gradient which is too steep for no one in the party, about not side-stepping unnecessarily, and so on. And never, without good reason, attempt to hurry.
If you are not leading, and if the leader is a competent person, you will not have much to think of. If he is not, you may find following him a tiresome business.
If it is really difficult to do so (not merely irritating), don’t dream of suffering in silence, but complain at once, and if he is so stupid or inconsiderate as to persist in his misdeeds, make a new track for yourself.
Don’t be at all disturbed if you find yourself being left behind, but keep on steadily at your own pace.
If you make a halt and take your skis off, clean them thoroughly at once, and see that their soles are neither wet nor warm when you put them on again. If you are likely to feel cold (and you are likely as a rule), put on spare clothing as soon as you stop, not after you feel chilly.
Wax your skis thoroughly before starting the run down if the snow is sticky, or is likely to be so lower down; and remember to button up your pockets, or you may find at the bottom of the hill that snow has either taken the place of, or ruined their contents.
I have so far attempted no description of the snow itself. It varies infinitely in consistency, but considerably less so in appearance, and for this reason it is often impossible for the runner to be sure of the quality of the snow in front of him until his skis actually touch it.
This latter fact adds considerably to the difficulty of ski-running when patches of different slipperiness occur at short intervals. The worst kind of patchy snow consists of a hard and slippery ice-crust in the hollows of which finely powdered wind-blown snow has accumulated; fortunately in this case the difference is generally visible, the slow powdery snow being perfectly white and the ice-crust rather greyer. The safest way of negotiating snow of this sort while running straight has already been explained.
For practical purposes the ski-runner may consider the snow to be of three distinct varieties according to the consistency of its surface: viz. soft snow, hard snow, and breakable crust. There is no real division between these varieties, each melting into the other by imperceptible gradations; but, where the quality of the snow falls clearly under one of these headings, the runner will be obliged to use certain definite methods of turning and stopping, unless he is either a thorough expert, or a stick-rider of the worst kind. For, as I have already said, the former can make any kind of swing in almost any kind of snow, while the latter has only one method of turning, viz. that of dragging himself to one side or the other by means of his stick, carefully preserving while he does so his normal running position, with the knees well bent and the skis level, parallel, and a yard or so apart, which manœuvre he calls making a stemming curve or a Christiania swing, according as the turn has been a downhill or an uphill one.
Assuming, then, that you belong to neither of these classes, you will have to know how to adapt the means of turning to the quality of the snow. It should be fairly obvious from the descriptions of the different swings how this is to be done.
In deep loose snow make all your turns, whether downhill or uphill, by means of the Telemark swing.
On hard snow, whether quite bare or covered by a very shallow layer of loose snow, make your downhill curves by means of the stemming turn, and use the Christiania swing for turning uphill.
In breakable crust, if it is very thin, you may find it possible to turn or stop with the Telemark. If this is out of the question you will have to jump or step round.
Of course soft snow may be so dense that the ski sinks into it but little (as in the case of watery spring snow); you will find it just as easy to make stemming turns and Christianias in this as to make Telemarks—perhaps even easier.
In the same way the layer of loose snow on a crust may be deep enough to allow Telemarks to be made as steadily as the other turns.
A breakable crust, too, may be so thin as to be hardly perceptible, or so thick that only some extra pressure (which occurs when a swing is made) will make it give way; but, generally speaking, you will find that you are limited to one method or the other—if you want to run with the maximum of steadiness.
Evidently, then, the Telemark is at least as generally useful as the other two turns to the moderately skilful runner who does not rely on the help of his stick. Yet most English runners undoubtedly look upon it as a pretty trick of no practical value, and never attempt it during a run.
It is quite certain, however, that a man who can make a Telemark swing with fair steadiness on a hard and slippery practice-ground (and the average runner can do this) will find it far easier to do so in the soft loose snow which is, fortunately, the variety most commonly met with during a run.
And if he can make the swing to the left, he is certainly capable of learning to make it to the right, and of turning downhill with it as well as uphill.
Fig. 47.—s, Stemming Turn; t, Telemark; c, Christiania; j, Jump round.
But if the runner only learns the Telemark to the left and the Christiania to the right, as most people are content to do, it will be a long time before he can rely on them during a run; for only the thorough expert can make both these swings with steadiness and certainty in any kind of snow, especially if his speed be high or the slope steep.
With the Christiania in particular it is exceedingly difficult, if the snow is unsuitable, to make a downhill turn, and by no means easy to make an uphill one.
The stemming turn, which is the only one attempted during a run by the average runner (I say “attempted” advisedly, for an examination of his track will seldom reveal much trace of actual stemming), is even more difficult to make in unsuitable snow than the Christiania.
The most important thing for you to remember when you first begin to make practical use of the swings, &c., while on a run, is that if you wish to fall as little as possible, you should never attempt to turn or stop while running at all fast.
If you run with judgment you can always avoid having to do this.
Suppose, for instance, that you find yourself approaching the edge of a steep slope; if your course is clear and the slope has an easy outrun on to level or nearly level ground, by all means run straight down; for at the bottom you will either run to a standstill or will slow up enough to be able to turn easily if necessary.
If, however, there is no clear outrun at the bottom of the slope, or if there are obstacles in your path, don’t dream of dashing straight over the edge and trying to turn off lower down, which you will certainly fail to do, but either stem, snow-plough, or side-slip straight down the slope, or turn off at once and take it in zigzags, making a downhill turn at the end of each tack by whatever method the quality of the snow demands. And unless you run each tack at a very gentle gradient indeed, you should take the further precaution of slowing up by turning slightly uphill before beginning each downhill turn.
To check the pace by making an uphill swing is a much neater and easier way of doing it than by stemming with the lower foot; the latter is a process which, when the ground is open, you need seldom use if you have a moderate command of the swings, though among obstacles—in dense wood and the like—you may often find it necessary to have recourse to it.
The means you use for making this preliminary uphill turn will depend, of course, on the quality of the snow, just as in the case of the downhill one.
[Fig. 47] shows what turns to use in order to run in zigzags through snow of the three different qualities. The downhill turns should be made as shortly and sharply as possible, in order to prevent the pace from becoming unmanageable in the middle of them.
If on account of the nature of the ground you decide to run straight down a steep slope instead of taking it in zigzags, you must, of course, be ready to drop into Telemark position for any sudden undulations or difficult snow.
Remember that the quality of the snow depends to a great extent on the direction in which the slope faces.
On slopes with a north aspect, especially if they are steep, the snow gets little or no sun, and is generally soft and easy, though even here it may sometimes get crusted by very strong winds or by frost after a warm wind or rain.
On slopes which face south the snow is exposed to the rays of the sun—more or less directly according to the steepness of the slope and the time of year. During the day, therefore, the surface of the snow melts, freezing at night into a crust, and when the sun goes off these south slopes they are, as a rule, perfectly hard and icy, though when the sun is full on them they may become so soft that you will find it difficult to use any turn except the Telemark.
The most difficult snow occurs on slopes which face a little south of east or west, and on due south slopes when the sun is just beginning to strike them, or is going off them; for then the hard crust generally becomes more or less breakable.
If you get these facts about the snow well into your head, it will be a great help to you during a run.
You will very likely find that one kind of turn comes easier than another, and at first, when your principal object is to run steadily and avoid falls as far as you can, your safest plan will be to shape your course so as to make most of your turns by the method that you find easiest. If you thoroughly understand the conditions which affect the quality of the snow, you will know where to look for that kind of snow which suits your favourite method of turning, and what places to avoid for the probable unsuitability of their surface.
Do not forget that what is true of the main slopes is also true of their minor features. On slopes facing east or west, for instance, each small undulation has its north and south side, the surface of which is affected by sun and frost in just the same way as the main slopes facing in that direction. If you remember this you will often, when running across a slope whose general surface is difficult, be able to find small patches of snow on the sides of the undulations in which you can turn quite easily.
When beginning the run down always make up your mind before you start how you mean to negotiate that part of the hill which is visible. If some way ahead the ground becomes steeper, so as to be invisible, and you do not know what it is like, don’t run at a high speed to where the slope changes, but approach it in zigzags, or at any rate slowly, in case you should find it necessary to turn off or stop at the edge of the steeper slope. By doing this you will preclude the possibility of dropping over a precipice on unknown ground.
As soon as you can see what was hidden from you, plan out, without stopping if possible, the next visible piece of your course in the same way.
There is one difficulty about steering among obstacles which it may be as well to mention.
Suppose you are running down or across a slope with a tree straight ahead of you which you mean to avoid when fairly close to it, by swinging, say, to the left.
As you already know, you must, at the beginning of any turn, lean forwards, perhaps even a little outwards, never inwards. Now, if there were no tree in front of you, you would probably have no difficulty whatever in making the turn, but the fear of running into the tree will at first be almost certain to make you lean away from it as you begin the turn—that is, backwards and to the left. You will then, if you don’t fall down at once, at any rate fail to turn sharply, and so will probably do exactly what you were trying to avoid, viz. run into the tree.
Àpropos of trees, let me remind you that turns are mainly for steering, and that therefore, except just at first, they should be practised where steering is necessary—i.e. among trees or other obstacles. Unless you take every opportunity of practising them there, they will be of little real use to you. You should soon be able to make downhill turns on any open slope with ease, and will soon afterwards cease to find much fun in doing so, but there is no end to the difficulty and therefore the interest of turning quickly among obstacles, and anyone who is or wishes to be a good ski-er will not be happy unless he gets plenty of wood-running. Nor, for much the same reasons, will he be contented without plenty of bad and difficult snow, a fact which you should lay to heart at the outset.
I have already said that when running fast on ground that is covered with hard ski-tracks, you should try to avoid crossing them at a narrow angle. You will sometimes find that you want to run a traverse on a slope closely covered with hard parallel tracks, leading exactly the way you want to go and steeply enough to make running in them extremely unsteady. Your best plan here is to run almost or quite directly downhill across them for a short distance, and then to turn upwards with a Christiania and make a longish traverse at a less steep angle than the tracks; your low speed then enabling you to cross them at a narrow angle in safety. By repeating this process you will reach the point to which the tracks lead almost as quickly and far more comfortably than by following them. To make alternate direct descents and gradual traverses in this way is also convenient when you would otherwise have to run a steep stemming traverse.
By paying careful attention to all the above points you should soon be able to run safely and steadily, and to get down any ordinary hill with few or no falls. This also means that you will accomplish the descent in pretty quick time, provided that you never stop if you can possibly help it, and that after a fall you get up without either hurrying or dawdling.
This kind of running makes no great demands on your skill, and still less on your nerve. Its main object is the avoidance of falls, and at first this should certainly be your sole aim. But if you wish to become a really good runner you should not allow it to remain so for long.
The first-rate runner has absolute command of the various swings, &c., and can stop suddenly or dodge among obstacles at a pretty high speed with perfect steadiness (at very high speeds it is impossible to turn or stop suddenly; the curve of the swing is then bound to be more or less long and gradual). He never turns or stops if he can help it, however, but runs everything as straight as he can, and at the highest possible speed.
There is not the least doubt that to take a hill in this way not only demands the utmost skill, but gives the greatest pleasure that ski-running, pure and simple, can afford.
It is not unusual to hear a man who never takes the easiest slope without constant zigzagging, say that he does so because he prefers going slowly and spinning out the run to dashing down in a quarter of the time. He infers, if he does not actually say, that the fear of speed has nothing to do with his choice.
You may be nearly sure that the man who talks in this way is inferring, if not telling, a lie, though very likely unconsciously. I used to say the same myself, and did not realise for some time that every ski-runner, whatever he may say or think, runs just as fast as he dares.
I don’t for a moment mean to say that there is anything to be ashamed of in being afraid of going fast. Indeed, the man who realises and openly admits that he is afraid, and who refuses to attempt anything which puts a great strain on his nerve, is very likely a more reasonable and admirable person than the one who gradually becomes a better runner simply through being ashamed of admitting his cowardice even to himself. I only want to impress upon you that the sine qua non of fine ski-running is speed, and that if you want to become a fine runner, you must be always trying to take things faster and faster. One reason why jumping is such an excellent training for the ski-runner is that it accustoms him to running at the greatest possible speed, and to falling occasionally while doing so.
To pay no particular attention to anything but straight running and speed from the first is of course absurd, for if you do this you will fall about hopelessly when any steering is necessary, and the most miserable stick-riding zigzagger will be down a hill long before you.
First of all, practise all the turns until you can make them with steadiness, for the special purposes and on the particular snow to which they are best adapted.
If you are weak in any turn, practise that one especially, not only on the practice-ground, but during a run.
To do the latter will, of course, add considerably to the number of your falls during a run, but it is the only way to improve, and you should never, except at the very outset, or for some special reason, be too anxious not to fall.
The boast of having accomplished a run without a single fall is usually sufficient to stamp the utterer of it as either a novice or a nervous person, who has negotiated his whole run in the easiest possible way. A very moderate runner, if he chooses, can thus avoid falling easily enough; but if he wishes to become a better one, he is bound to take chances, where an unambitious or timid one would play for safety.
Do not forget, however, that if to boast of not falling lays you open to suspicion in one way, to boast of falling stamps you infallibly in another.
After you can make all the turns pretty well in the snow which is easiest for each, begin to practise them in difficult snow. When you can make them while running at a moderate speed, try to do so at higher and higher speeds.
You can then practise running with the same foot leading the whole time, and make only Telemarks one way and Christianias the other; if you find this easier with the right foot leading, run always with the left foot leading until that comes just as easy.
Do your utmost, in short, to improve your steering in every possible way, and then try to run everything as straight and fast as ever you can.
I don’t, of course, mean that you are to become a past master at swinging and turning before you try to run straight and fast, for the two things can be practised together. But steering must come first, and until you can steer as well with your long grooved ski and without the help of the stick as the most redoubtable Lilienfeld stick-rider with his short smooth skis, you must give much more attention to that than to speed.
Your ultimate aim must, as I have already said, be to run in the utmost safety, with the utmost skill (i.e. with the least effort) and at the utmost speed; but if ever, as in a race, speed is almost your sole object, remember the following facts:—
Apart from the question of obstacles, the quickest way to get down a hill is of course to run freely straight down it.
The second quickest way is a free direct descent checked at intervals by uphill swings, so that the speed never becomes high enough to be difficult.
The third quickest way is a direct stemming (Telemark, snow-plough, or side-slip) descent, and not, as most people imagine, a free descent by tacks and downhill turns. The latter method takes more skill and less effort, but is a great deal slower.
To sum up, let me advise you to take in succession each of the following series of “Don’ts” as your guiding maxim when learning cross-country running:—
(1) Don’t fall (but stem, kick-turn, and stop ad lib.).
(2) Don’t stop (i.e. stem ad lib., but make no kick-turns).
(3) Don’t stem (but make as gradual tacks as you like, and check the pace when necessary by uphill swings).
(4) Don’t slow up before turning downhill.
(5) Don’t—if you can safely avoid it—turn at all.
When you can accomplish a run without falling or stopping, you may consider yourself a third-rate cross-country runner, being quite safe and not too slow.
When you can do so without falling, stopping, or stemming, your running will be sufficiently safe, fast, and in particular effortless, to be called second-rate.
When you can manage most of your run without either falling, stopping, stemming, or turning, you may be quite pleased with yourself.
The last sentence suggests a further word of advice.
It is seldom reasonable to feel very proud of one’s running, but it is often the greatest help to pretend to do so.
If after taking all possible pains to learn any manœuvre you still find a difficulty in doing it, try the effect of imagining yourself rather a desperate fellow—a careless, skilful, dashing person who has done this sort of thing all his life and thinks nothing of it. You will very likely find that this acts like a charm, and that it was only the stiffness that comes from over-carefulness which prevented you from succeeding before. A certain amount of “side,” in fact—whether natural or assumed—is really an excellent thing. Most good performers talk of their running—perhaps sincerely—with becoming modesty, but they seldom show much sign of this modesty in their actions when ski-ing—evincing, as a rule, a healthy self-confidence which might almost be mistaken for a desire to show off.
In the above series of “Don’ts” I have not included “Don’t use the stick,” because I trust it would never enter your head to do so. I might however have said, “Don’t be afraid of leaving your sticks at home,” for unless you want to race uphill or on the level you can easily dispense with them, and to do so occasionally will prevent you from getting into the slovenly habit of prodding with the inner stick at the end of every swing. Not that this prodding need be considered a very serious crime, for as long as a stick is used with one hand for pushing and not with both for pulling, no great harm will be done to the style. But this prodding is a slight waste of energy, and therefore the tendency to do it should be checked. To go without a stick at all occasionally is the best possible way to cultivate a perfectly free and effortless style, not only of running down a hill, but of climbing up it.
One sometimes hears the absurd statement that to tour without a stick is “unnatural,” and therefore not permissible. All ski-ing is “unnatural.” If it is “natural” to carry a stick, it is still more “natural” to lean on it hard the whole time. The only real and searching test of the skill and ease of a man’s running is to take away his stick altogether and see if he can run fast and steadily across any sort of country without it; and I strongly advise you to test your own running in this way from time to time.
It is a curious coincidence, if nothing more, that in Canada it is the regular thing for ski-ers to do their cross-country running without sticks, and that in Canada, and nowhere else, an Anglo-Saxon (Barney Reilly) has already done some first-rate jumping.
About the special dangers of ski-running a word or two may be useful. The risk of injury from falling on snow is not very great, and there is not much danger of any one but a lunatic dropping over a precipice in an unknown country, or dashing at full speed into a solid obstacle, instead of adopting the simple device of falling down before he reaches it, if he cannot manage to turn. I have never heard of anything worse than a broken leg (which is no doubt quite bad enough) resulting from a fall in snow. The kind of snow most likely to lead to injury is not hard, icy snow, as the beginner generally fancies, but deep soft snow, especially if covered by a breakable crust; for in this the skis may plunge beneath the surface, and, getting jammed, may throw a strain on the foot or leg.
But even here the runner whose style is good is not very likely to hurt himself, even when going fast, if his binding fits properly; it is the stick-rider with his feet level and skis apart who gets the most awkward falls. In jumping, owing to the firmness of the surface, there is hardly any danger at all.
The real danger of injury in ski-running does not consist so much in the nature of the injury itself as in the fact that it may leave the runner incapable of movement in a dangerous situation.
If he is far from shelter he may be badly frost-bitten before he can be got home—therefore the more spare clothing he carries the better.
If he is alone, he will be lucky if he gets home at all—and any one who thoroughly realises this will think twice before he goes ski-ing by himself without saying where he is going.
The advantage of carrying a map and compass, and of knowing how to use them in case of losing one’s way, is obvious. It is not only the mountaineer but the ordinary tourist who is exposed to this danger, for even the latter should remember that when once he is above the tree-line a snow-storm or a fog may make it impossible for him to find his way for ten yards by eye alone.
In thick snow or fog nothing is visible except a blank whiteness. When the fog or falling snow are thin, objects which are darker than the snow (rock, trees, &c.) may be visible for some distance, but all light and shade disappears in the snow itself, all tracks, holes, and irregularities in its surface become quite invisible, and it is then impossible, in a bare tract of snow, for the runner to tell whether the ground in front of him goes downhill, uphill, or level.
Even an overcast sky causes this curious absence of light and shade; and then, though the main landmarks may be visible, and there may be no danger of getting lost, running becomes exceedingly difficult and uncomfortable, perhaps even dangerous, for the snow on the edge of a precipice or steep drop, when seen from above, is apparently continuous with the snow at the foot of it.
In the description of equipment I have already mentioned the necessary safeguards against frost-bite and snow blindness.
Anything more than an allusion to the danger from avalanche is quite beyond the scope of this book. It is an intricate subject, about which whole books have been, and no doubt will yet be, written.
I believe that even now the conditions which produce winter avalanches are not fully understood. On any open slope of more than certain steepness—23° or so—an avalanche may start, especially after a thaw, or before the snow of a recent fall has had time to settle down. An avalanche, once started, can of course travel over a less steep slope, or even level ground. Lose no time in collecting all the information you can on the subject; for, although the ordinary tourist (not the climber) can usually avoid it, the danger is a very serious one, and you should never willingly expose yourself to the smallest risk of it. If the risk is unavoidable, make sure that you can get your skis off your feet in a moment, for if you are caught in an avalanche this is the first thing to do. The next is, if possible, to keep your head above the surface of the snow.
The ancient quip about presence of mind and absence of body is particularly applicable in a case of this sort.
I have said something about the special discomforts and dangers of the mountains and the snow, but nothing about their extraordinary beauty and fascination. If I were better fitted for the task than the ordinary guide-book writer, I might attempt a description of them; as I am not, I will spare the reader.
To some ski-runners these beauties may be of secondary importance to the sport itself. The ski-runner may even exist who looks upon climbing a mountain as an altogether exasperating, but unfortunately inevitable, preparation for a run down, and whose ideal is an artificial jumping-hill in his garden provided with a lift. I have never met him.
APPENDIX
HOW TO PRACTISE
Broadly speaking, your object in practising should be to learn to run first safely, then easily, and then quickly. This is more or less equivalent to saying that you should first learn braking, then turning, and only then free straight-running, and that you should practise on slopes of gradually increasing steepness as well as in all sorts of snow.
You should, moreover, by very easy stages, learn jumping from the very outset.
You will hardly be able to follow the first part of this advice quite literally, for to learn to brake without learning something about turning, or to do either without learning to run straight at all is nearly impossible and quite unnecessary.
The following scheme for five days’ practice is one way of setting to work. If it does not suit you, by all means vary it, but stick to the principle of learning every manœuvre in its easiest form pretty thoroughly before passing to more difficult ones, for this is the best way to gain confidence if you are nervous, and to steady yourself and avoid bad habits if you are inclined to be reckless.
Never think of learning to “do a Telemark” or anything else for its own sake alone, and never look on jumping as an extra.
1st Morning.—Hard snow on a gentle slope (10° to 15°) with level outrun.
About 15 minutes.—(1) Level going. Hill-climbing (kick-turns, side-stepping and half side-stepping, herring-boning, &c.). This will, of course, be distributed throughout the morning practice.
About 30 minutes.—(2) Braking by single-stemming (half snow-plough); at first from a standstill in stemming position, then from a traverse in normal running position.
About 30 minutes.—(3) Braking by snow-ploughing; at first nearly from a standstill on the hillside, then on the level after a direct descent in normal running position.
About 10 minutes.—(4) Uphill step round to standstill from slow traverse in normal running position.
About 15 minutes.—(5) Uphill stemming turns from traverse in normal running position.
About 20 minutes—(6) Uphill stemming turns (snow-plough and lift round inner ski) on level from direct descent in normal running position.
Total, 2 hours.
1st Afternoon.—Shallow soft snow on gentle slope with level outrun.
About 30 minutes.—(1) Telemark-stemming while traversing; at first from a standstill, then from a traverse in Telemark running position.
About 30 minutes.—(2) Telemark-stemming straight downhill; at first from a standstill, then on the level after direct free descent in Telemark position.
About 20 minutes.—(3) Uphill Telemark swings from traverse.
About 20 minutes.—(4) Uphill Telemark swings from direct descent.
About 20 minutes.—(5) Zigzag descent in snow-plough position.
Total, 2 hours.
2nd Morning.—Hard snow on moderate slope (20° or so).
About 30 minutes.—(1) Repeat (2) and (3) of first morning’s practice. (If slope steep enough to make snow-ploughing at all difficult, substitute Telemark-stemming.)
About 30 minutes—(2) Uphill Christiania swing from traverse; first from a standstill, then while running in normal position.
On gentle slope.
About 30 minutes.—(3) Downhill stemming turns from a traverse in normal position.
About 20 minutes.—(4) Uphill Christiania swings from direct descent—at first from a standstill.
About 10 minutes.—(5) Uphill jump round to standstill from slow traverse.
Total, 2 hours.
2nd Afternoon.—Soft snow on moderate slope.
About 50 minutes.—(1) Repeat (1) to (3) of first afternoon’s practice, running first in Telemark, then in normal position when practising the swing.
About 15 minutes.—(2) Uphill Christianias from direct descent.
About 5 minutes.—(3) Uphill jump round to standstill from traverse.
On gentle slope.
About 40 minutes.—(4) Downhill Telemarks.
About 10 minutes.—(5) Practise positions of jumping (“Sats,” &c.) during a direct descent.
Total, 2 hours.
3rd Morning.—Hard snow on steep slope (30°).
About 20 minutes.—(1) Side-slipping (both traversing at various angles and straight down the slope).
About 20 minutes.—(2) Uphill Christianias from traverse.
On moderate slope.
About 30 minutes.—(3) Uphill Christianias from direct descent.
About 60 minutes.—(4) Downhill stemming turns.
Repeat (3) and (4) on steep slope if you can.
Total, 2 hours.
3rd Afternoon.—Soft snow on steep slope.
About 10 minutes.—(1) Telemark-stemming traverses and direct descents.
About 30 minutes.—(2) Uphill Telemarks and Christianias from traverse in normal position.
On moderate slope.
About 20 minutes.—(3) Uphill Telemarks from direct descent.
About 60 minutes.—(4) Downhill Telemarks.
Repeat (3) and (4) on steep slope if possible.
Total, 2 hours.
4th Morning.—Jumping.
Practise the positions first of all while running down a slope of 20° or so, not merely straightening up when making the “Sats,” but springing into the air (legs straight). Then do the same at the point where an upper slope of about 20° joins a lower one of, say, 25°. Then build a low platform at the same point and practise on that.
4th Afternoon.
Short practice run—say, 1000-ft. climb.
5th Day.
Practice expedition—about 2000-ft. climb.
I do not expect for a moment that a single one of my readers will work through this course in detail exactly as I have set it down, but these suggestions may at least give him something to disagree with and rearrange.
Some further explanation of the arrangement of the first three days’ practice may be a help. The idea is that on each day the beginner shall practise both on hard and soft snow (by all means let him find breakable crust, too, for his stepping and jumping round if he wants to be very thorough); that on the first day he learns braking and the elements of uphill turning on gentle slopes, that next day on steeper slopes he learns braking, uphill turns, and the elements of downhill turning, and that on the third he learns to brake and turn uphill and, if he can manage it, downhill on really steep slopes. Incidentally he ought to learn quite enough about straight-running to find that the least difficult part of his first practice-run.
The jumping and short-expedition day might very well—perhaps better—be taken after the second day’s ordinary practice instead of after the third, where I have put it.
By cutting the downhill turns out of the three days’ practice and learning them later, or by cutting out everything but the various methods of braking, the beginner can more quickly make himself efficient and safe (though of course slow) as a tourist if he is in a great hurry to become one. But however he varies his procedure, let him practise on different sorts of snow and slopes of every steepness up to 30° or so from the very first. One mistake that nearly all beginners make is that they never practise on anything like a really steep slope, the result being that the greater part of their practice is pure waste of time, and utterly useless to them when they go for an expedition.
Finally, let me once more urge the beginner to do everything he can to make things easier for himself. One excellent plan if he is very nervous—or even if he is not—is, as Lieutenant Bilgeri suggests, to learn the manœuvres of the descent on the level at first, by getting under way with a few running steps and then stemming or turning before he loses impetus. Another plan (which should always be followed) is to try the position for every manœuvre at a standstill, and to make sure that it is accurate in every detail before attempting that manœuvre while running. This can, of course, also be done without skis, indoors. Indoor exercises being a pet fad of mine, I herewith suggest a few as more or less direct aids to ski-ing—if I had not been actually asked to do so, fear of ridicule would have prevented me.
(1) Place heels together and knees touching, and try to turn toes outwards until feet are in a straight line (kick-turn).
(2) Make as wide a straddle as possible, then try to make it wider. Turn toes in as far as possible (snow-plough).
(3) Place yourself in Telemark position, right foot leading, knees pressed inwards. Change with a jump to same position, left foot leading. Repeat quickly, bringing your feet to exactly the same places on the floor that they occupied before, and not letting them point outwards.
(4) Stand on tiptoe, feet parallel and touching. Squat and straighten up again repeatedly.
(5) Stand on one foot, holding the other clear of the floor; sit on the heel and rise again.
(6) Stand on one leg and move the other about in all directions.
(7) Stand with feet parallel and touching. Let yourself slowly fall forwards, saving yourself at the last possible moment by a jump with the feet together. Repeat this in all directions.
(8) Stand with feet in straight line, one in front of the other. Jump as high as you can, land, steadily balanced, on the spot you left.
(9) Practise the “Sats,” both methods, also drawing up your legs in the air, saving yourself from a forward fall in each case either by dropping into Telemark position or by a jump forward with both feet together.
(10) Stand with feet parallel and touching, knees together and bent, body slightly stooping. Swing arms and shoulders, and turn head as far round to the right as you can. Reverse position sharply with a jump, so that feet then point to the right, shoulders and head full to left. Repeat this quickly.
If you find any of the balancing exercises too easy, try them with your eyes shut. Number (10) may not teach you the “jerked” Christiania, but is highly beneficial to the liver.
FOOTNOTES
[1]Unless, however, this horizontal grain runs very straight throughout the ski, the vertical arrangement is the better.
[2]If however with a very narrow ski a very wide-soled boot is worn, traversing a steep, hard slope becomes uncomfortable, as the projecting sole is then apt to catch in the crust and trip the runner.
[3]The Bilgeri binding, a development of the Lilienfeld, is lighter and less rigid.
[4]No wider a welt, however, than is absolutely necessary. See [note, p. 28].
[5]Sold as “griffe Norvégienne.”
[6]For the above method of herring-boning I am indebted, through Mr. Rickmers, to Herr Zdarsky.
[7]Soft enough to give steerage way, and free from breakable crust or very soft patches that check the skis suddenly.
[8]If, when one ski crosses the other, you put (or keep) all your weight on the one that is undermost, you can easily withdraw the other and save yourself from falling.
PLATES
On the level.—(i.)
Stopping a back-slip.—(ii.)
Before kick-turn.—(iii.)
Kick-turn.—(iv.)
Kick-turn.—(v.)
Kick-turn.—(vi.)
Kick-turn.—(viia.)
Kick-turn: wrong position.—(viib.)
Kick-turn: finished.—(viii.)
Herring-boning.—(ix.)
Side-stepping.—(x.)
h.b., Herring-boning; k., Kick-turn; s., Side-stepping; h.s., half-side-stepping.—(xa.)
(Uphill track showing application of various methods of hill-climbing.)
Scraping right ski.—(xi.)
Scraping left ski.—(xii.)
Starting a run on hillside.—(xiii.)
Straight-running: normal position.—(xiv.)
Straight-running: normal position.—(xv.)
Straight-running: how not to do it.—(xvi.)
Straight-running: Telemark position.—(xvii.)
Straight-running: Telemark position.—(xviii.)
Straight-running: Telemark position.—(xix.)
Snow-ploughing (stemming with both skis).—(xx.)
Braking with the sticks.—(xxi.)
Stemming with one ski, or start of a downhill stemming-turn to left.—(xxii.)
Downhill stemming-turn to left: halfway round.—(xxiii.)
Finish of stemming-turn to left.—(xxiv.)
Unsuccessful stemming-turn to left: result of wrong balance or position.—(xxv.)
Track of downhill stemming-turns.—(xxvi.)
Downhill stemming-turn to left in soft snow (note wide stride and edged skis).—(xxvii.)
How not to make a stemming-turn.—(xxviii.)
Uphill Telemark swing to left.—(xxix.)
Uphill Telemark swing to left: wrong balance and position of skis.—(xxx.)
Uphill Telemark swing to left (seen from above).—(xxxi.)
Downhill Telemark swing to left.—(xxxii.)
Track of downhill Telemark swings.—(xxxiii.)
Starting an uphill Christiania swing to the right from traversing.—(xxiv.)
Starting an uphill Christiania swing to the right from a direct descent.—(xxxv.)
Finish of uphill Christiania swing to right.—(xxxvi.)
Bad finish of uphill Christiania swing to right.—(xxxvii.)
Start of a downhill Christiania swing to right.—(xxxviii.)
Bad finish of uphill Christiania swing to right.—(xxxix.)
Uphill Christiania swing to right (seen from above).—(xl.)
Finish of uphill Christiania swing to right (seen from below).—(xli.)
Track of downhill Christiania swings.—(xlii.)
Downhill Christiania swing to right: halfway round.—(xliii.)
Photo by L. Büttner.
“Jerked” Christiania swing to right (note position of arms and shoulders).—(xliv.)
Downhill Telemark swing to left (seen from above).—(xlv.)
Uphill Telemark swing to right.—(xlvi.)
Jumping round to the left: bad position of skis.—(xlvii.)
Jumping round to the right.—(xlviii.)
Jumping.—(xlix.)
Photo by L. Büttner.
Jumping.—(l.)
Photo by L. Büttner.
Jumping.—(li.)
Preparing for the “Sats.”—(lii.)
Making the “Sats.”—(liii.)
Hans Klopfenstein jumping (winner of inter-Swiss Championship, 1910).—(liv.)
Landing from a Jump.—(lv.)
Jumper just clear of the platform (seen from above).—(lvi.)
Harald Smith jumping at Adelboden, 1909 (photographed from under the platform).—(lvii.)
How to carry the skis.—(lviii.)
How to carry the skis.—(lix.)
(The stick resting on the right shoulder takes some weight off the other.)