Winter Sports in Switzerland

by E. F. Benson

with a fair prospect of success, the stemming-turn, the Telemark, and the Christiania, he is, for all practical purposes, an accomplished ski-runner, a master of that delightful art. But for as many years as he is active of body, he will gain in facility in accomplishing these things, and probably no skier has ever reached anything approaching perfection, any more than any skater has attained that undesirable goal. It is advisedly that I say “undesirable,” since to our limited skill it seems to me that half the fun of any sport would be subtracted if we could possibly become perfect in it. But, on the other hand, the skier, if he is at all master of his limbs, will more easily attain that moderate degree of excellence which will enable him to join comfortably and easily in these climbs and expeditions which are the joy of ski-running, than he would attain the excellence required of a member of a fair combined figure in skating or of a player in a respectable curling team. But whereas in skating and curling he can only spoil the amusement of other people (or perhaps, if they are humorously inclined, add to it), he incurs grave danger if he attempts to go on arduous ski-ing expeditions without having got some facility in the easier ski-ing figures, such as the kick-turn on his ascents and the stemming-turn on his descents. Odd as it may appear, everyone has not the nerve to fall down in time, in case a sudden obstacle appears in front of him, or, which is perhaps worse, a sudden absence of anything at all, in the guise of a precipice. But a man who can, with the ease of habit, make a stemming-turn or, better still, both of the other turns, can stop when he chooses. To attain such moderate skill is not at all a difficult matter, but without it, only a lunatic would join any long expedition. If he is incapable of climbing slopes except with an infinite degree of slipping and stumbling, he is a nuisance to his companions; while if in the descents he is incapable of any turn, he may, if he has the nerve to fall down promptly, be only a worse nuisance; but if he has not, he may become a source of much danger to himself.

Further, however expert a skier he may eventually become, he should never dream of making an expedition alone, unless he is always close to some well-frequented track or road, or unless he is certain that other skiers will pass that way before nightfall. For the best skiers in the world are not exempt from falling, and it is always possible that a fall may result in a very severe sprain, such as will make it impossible for the injured man to go on, or in a broken bone. It is quite true that such injuries are rare, but no consolation will be found in the rarity of your injury if you find yourself on a high and unfrequented snowfield towards evening in an incapacitated condition. For nobody has skill enough to eliminate this danger from his own case, just as no climber will go alone, if he has a grain of sense in his head, on places where there is any reasonable prospect of his slipping. He makes his party, whether with guides or without, takes a rope, and puts it on when a slip might lead to severe injury or worse. It is only the ignorant who take unreasonable risks, or the foolhardy. It is the same case with the skier. But with him any steep slope may result in a tumble, and any tumble may result in an incapacity to move. Therefore, without any exception, a skier, however skilful, should never go alone on any expedition that takes him away from frequented paths. Nor, on such an expedition, should unfrequented places be left behind until all the members of the party have negotiated them. And in such it is the unskilful straggler who falls continually, and having fallen does not know how to get up, and has to ride his stick and go slow over all steep places, who is so unmitigated a nuisance to his companions.

A word more of warning. Clothing is a most important item in the skier’s equipment. He perhaps will start from his hotel in a blaze of sun, and knowing there is a long ascent in front of him will adopt an investiture which is altogether unsuitable for that which lies before him, forgetting that though he will certainly get extremely warm during the course of the day, he may also run the risk of frost-bite. He may perhaps be no worse than the man who clothes himself scantily for reasons of the hot upward ascent, and remembering that close-fitting thick garments are productive of extraordinary warmth, will proceed to put on thick woollen stockings, which make the donning of his boots over them a matter of some difficulty. “Thick leather, thick stockings,” says he to himself, “now I can’t be cold.” But he could not have adopted a worse procedure, for it is just through this thick, closely-fitting clothing that frost-bite penetrates. Outside, on the boot, is a frozen spray of snow, inside is the moisture of the foot asking, positively demanding, to be frozen also. The tightness of the boot and stocking further impedes the surface-circulation, and a frost-bitten foot is very likely the response to this well-meant protection of it. Instead, the boot should be so large that it can easily accommodate two layers of woollen stuff loosely. Then the natural heat of the body, unchilled by surface pressure, is diffused through these woollen coverings, and makes, instead of a layer of icy moisture, a temperate atmosphere round itself. Similarly with the hands: loose gloves, instead of thick tight ones, should be worn, and the finger-receptacles should be made all in one piece, as is the fashion with babies. Then they warm and comfort each other, instead of being each enclosed in a solitary prison.

In other respects the clothing should be that of the mountain climber, warm but as little heavy as possible. For the lower part of the legs putties are admirable, for it is necessary to protect the chinks between boot and stocking: otherwise snow collects there and forms into icy deposits. Coat and knickerbockers should be made of smooth and wind-proof material, and such a garment as a sweater should not be worn as an outer covering, for the roughness of it causes the snow to cling to it. The coat should be capable of being buttoned closely round the neck, so that in tumbles the snow does not get inside it, and for the same reason long gloves covering the opening of the sleeves are useful. A woollen cap, of the type known as “crusader,” which can be brought over the ears and neck when encountering cold winds, and be rolled up, when so desired, is as good a head-covering as can be devised. Snow spectacles of smoked glass, to shield the eyes from the intense glare, should always be carried, and put on before (not after) the eyes begin to smart and water from the dazzle of whiteness. Otherwise it is easy to get a touch of snow-blindness.

Now, when the snow is soft and inclined to thaw, it has an odious habit of balling on the sole of the ski, so that you walk uphill clogged with a great lump of snow dependent from each foot, which makes it heavy to lift, and at the same time makes lifting necessary, since it is impossible to slide forward on it. But since it is equally impossible to slip back, the beginner will find a certain consolation if the snow balls slightly on his ascent, for he will climb severe slopes laboriously indeed, but without slipping. But no consolation rewards him when he begins his descent. In vain he encourages his skis to slide, for the loose mass of soft snow sticking to them effectually prevents their doing anything of the kind, and unless he has come prepared for such a contingency he will assuredly have to stamp along all the way home. But balling can be largely avoided by waxing the bottom of the skis, preferably before he starts. This wax can be obtained anywhere in tubes, and when rubbed on to the skis prevents the snow from sticking to them, and you will see a man whose skis have been well waxed running swiftly and easily over snow that would entirely prevent his moving if this had not been done.

On the other hand, the snow on an ascent may, instead of being soft and balling, be hard and icy, so that it is a difficult matter even for the expert to prevent back-slipping. To discourage this tendency he sometimes will tie a cord to the toes of his skis and pass it several times round them, fastening it to the bindings. Others tie strips of seal-skin to them, which also counteracts the tendency to slip. These, of course, are removed when the ascent is over.

Jumping

Of all spectacular feats compassable upon frozen snow surfaces, ski-jumping is, to the minds of most people, the most amazing, and compared with it all performances on ice-rinks and toboggan-runs seem to the spectator almost tame. Not having the smallest or most elementary practical experience of it (I should freeze with terror if told that I had to go over even a very mild ski-jump, and probably be found hiding in the station waiting-room to take the next train home), I can but give an impression of it as it strikes the observer.

The glad word is passed round the hotel one evening that some famous ski-jumper has arrived and will give an exhibition next day; and next day, accordingly, you trudge out on to the slope where the jump has been erected. This is a long steep hillside, and the platform for the jump has been put up some hundred yards from the top of it. It is a champion jumper who has arrived, and the apparatus is on the big scale. Out from the slope of the hill is this platform, built in the manner of a dormer window in a house-roof or a header-board above a pool. It is made of wooden planks supported on posts, and covered with a layer of down-trodden snow. It is some 5 yards or so in length, 5 or 6 feet broad, and the edge of it is some 6 feet perpendicularly above the slope at its base. At the corners of it, to guide the jumper who approaches it, are boughs of fir stuck into the snow, or flags. Above it the slope is of moderate steepness, sufficient, anyhow, for a skier to get up a considerable speed when running straight down towards it from above; below the hillside is considerably steeper, and continues at a steep angle for two or three hundred yards. Both above and below the platform the snow is being industriously trodden down by those engaged on the preparations, so as to make a smooth firm run for the jumper before he gets to his platform, and a smooth firm landing-place after his flight through the air. The reason of this is that it is absolutely essential that the jumper should have no check when he touches ground again after his flight: if he landed in soft or deep snow he would quite certainly have a bad fall. But with hard smooth snow to land on there is no such check, and on landing he continues his course at high speed straight down the hill. It is also extremely important for him to land on a steep slope; for if the slope was but gentle, the shock of coming in contact with it from such a height would clearly be extremely severe, and broken bones would undoubtedly result. But the steep slope lends itself to the pace he is going and the height from which he comes, and, as it were, continues his flight on the ground. Also, the steeper the slope is, the longer obviously will the jump be, as measured from the platform to the point where he first lands.