Fig. 26. Shows this.
Coming down a long and complicated slope one joins one curve to another without a break, thus dodging the trees and rocks. On a steep incline, if there are obstacles in the way of a straight descent, the S-track, as it is called, affords a safe reduction of speed and a prolongation of the pleasurable slide.
The ski-runner who has reached this stage enjoys himself wherever there is snow, even if there be little of it, for he can circumvent the patches where it has melted away. The photograph on the opposite page shows what can be done after a single winter’s patient practice. It is a “snake-line” made in the winter of 1903 by one of the writers of this chapter, and by no means an accomplishment requiring more than ordinary skill or talent. The slope in question descends from Alp Laret, near St. Moritz, to the valley in which lies the world-famed Cresta toboggan run. The gradient is between 40 deg. and 50 deg. (55 deg. to 60 deg. near the top), and the vertical distance from top to bottom amounts to exactly 300 metres (1,000ft.). The small avalanche about the middle was started by the ski of the runner, and the marks and remains of older avalanches on the left give sufficient testimony as to the steepness of the spot. The length of the run must be at least half a mile, and the entire distance was covered without a single fall or stumble. May the beginner draw the proper conclusion: that where there’s a will there’s a way, and that both in this case are within the reach of the ordinary individual who can walk, row, shoot, ride, play tennis, cricket, or football.
What is it that makes the votary of the slender plank count the shortening days, and greet with boyish glee the slowly falling flakes? What makes him tremble with excitement at the sight of the whitening hills? It is the memory of past delights, the impatience to taste them again. He sees himself on the top of the mountain. From his feet a vista of stately firs on a slope of dazzling white stretches away into the valley a thousand feet below. Above, the clear blue sky. Off he goes! For ten minutes the swish of the spurting snow is sweet music to his ears; for ten minutes he scorns the soaring albatross, as he feels himself buoyed by the feathering ski, swaying from curve to curve. The excitement of the start has left him, and though ten minutes may seem a short time he enjoys them to the full, for he is calm, and glides easily, without a show of strength, without effort or strain. He feels the mighty power of the rush, the living force which is gathering as he flies, which drives him along, but which is nevertheless under his absolute control. He toys with the weight that impels him; by small movements of his ski he steers and directs the energy within. He can make the snow yield like water, or resist like steel. He is swung from turn to turn, irresistibly, but with safe and stately motion, by the force which he commands; he feels himself rocking softly, like the petrel on the waves.
The Snake of Laret.
Photo by W. R. Rickmers.
Then comes the end; the stream at the bottom is near. A sudden twist; a swirling cloud of white, and, as the crystals settle glittering in the sun, there one sees him firm and erect, the ruler of the mountain, the master of the snow and ski!