The right way of attaching all the above-named bindings to the boot will have been evident from the descriptions appended to each. It is sufficient to observe here that the straps (and particularly the toe-straps) should never be pulled tighter than occasion demands. Tight straps are the surest road to frost-bite, besides being very uncomfortable. For all ordinary going—that is to say, during far the greater length of time that the ski are on the feet—the straps may be worn comparatively loose. It is quite easy to tighten them up for a difficult piece of ground or a jump, and there is no occasion to run unnecessary risks.
Another important matter is that with all ordinary bindings care should be taken not to thrust the foot too far into the toe-strap. The toe-strap should never cross the foot lower than the middle of the great toe. People are apt to neglect this simple precaution, but in doing so they run the risk of spraining the foot in the event of a fall forwards. In the case of the Lilienfeld binding, it is not necessary to be quite so careful, as with it the vertical axis is in front of the foot.
Conclusion.
The beginner who has read the above remarks probably realises by now that there is no such thing as a perfect ski binding which will satisfy everybody! Some people want extreme lateral rigidity, others a little play, and others, again, comparative looseness. It is much the same with the vertical movement; if very stiff there is great control, valuable for jumping and for lifting the heel in steep hill climbing, but the ski “clappers” on the level. If very loose, the toe has to carry too much weight,[6] and the advantages of stiffness vanish. There can really be no such thing as a happy mean in these matters, and everybody must choose that which on the whole is best suited to his requirements. Nor can any form of fastening last for ever, and the most that one can expect is that a binding should not be continually giving way. Do not, therefore, begin by worrying yourself too much about this part of your equipment. Buy one or other of the bindings depicted above which you think will suit you best, and learn all about its little peculiarities and something about ski-running before you decide that it is no good. Above all things, avoid boring your more experienced friends with binding talk, of which they have all had enough and to spare.
FOOT-PLATES.
In order to protect the ski and to prevent snow adhering to it under the foot it is necessary to fix some sort of anti-sticking material to that part which is touched by the boot; and a thin plate of some non-corrosive metal is best for this purpose; the india-rubber or seal’s skin commonly sold are of little use, and soon wear out.
THE STICK.
The stick is a good servant, but a bad master. It is little used by first-class runners, except to enable them to increase the speed by punting. There can, however, be no doubt that it greatly assists a beginner in preserving his balance on difficult ground and in turning. On the other hand, it is equally certain that it is frequently the cause of his adopting a bad style, of spoiling his balance, and of hindering or entirely blocking his progress in the art of turning. To jump with a stick in the hand is most dangerous, and, of course, there is always the possibility of the stick being lost or broken on tour.
Accordingly there are those who recommend the beginner to leave this part of his outfit at home; and much is to be said in favour of such advice, especially in the case of a young and active pupil. When, however, it is argued that anybody who can go on ski without a stick will not have any difficulty in subsequently taking to one, we venture to differ. Perhaps in rare cases it may be so, but we have had a somewhat extensive experience of beginners of all ages, and we have always found it otherwise. The novice who has learnt without a stick seems to be greatly embarrassed when one is first placed in his hand. Moreover, we have met not a few ski-runners, no longer novices, who make very pretty Telemark and Christiania swings on the practice ground with hands free, but who break down hopelessly on tour when encumbered with a stick. But everybody is agreed that a stick of some sort or other should be taken on tour, and we fail to see the use of these pretty 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.
