Ski-runs in the High Alps

by F. F. Roget

As a general principle, the winter sportsman may be sure that in the proportion in which he rises he also leaves behind him the winter conditions, as defined, in keeping with their own notions and experience by the dwellers on plains, on the seaside, or in valleys. When travelling upwards he reaches a dry air, a hot and bright light, and maybe a higher temperature than prevails in the lower regions of the earth which lie at his feet.

We said a little while ago that in January and February any snowfall improves the floor. In the preceding months the high regions pass gradually from the condition in which they are practicable on foot to those under which they are properly accessible to the ski-runner only. Time must be allowed for the process, and till it is completed ski-running is premature and consequently distinctly dangerous. The Alpine huts should not be used as ski-ing centres before they can be reached on ski, and one should not endeavour to reach them in that manner as long as stones are visible among the snow.

The distinctive feature of the ski-runner’s floor is that it is free from stones and from holes. The stones should be well buried under several feet of snow, and the holes filled up with compressed or frozen snow before the ski-runner makes bold to sally forth, but when they are he may practically go anywhere and dare anything so far as the ground is concerned, provided he is an expert runner and a connoisseur in the matter of avalanches. Of course, our “anywhere” applies to ski-ing grounds only, and our “anything” means mountaineering as restricted to the uses to which ski may fairly be put.

The floor of the ski-runner is a dimpled surface consisting of an endless variety of planes and curves. It is a geometrical surface upon which the ski move like instruments of mensuration that are from two to three yards long. Snowfalls and the winds determine the geometrical character of the field upon which the long rulers are to glide. This, the only true notion of the ski-ing field, means that the detail of the ground has disappeared. It presents a continuity of differently inclined, bent, edged, or curved surfaces, all uniformly geometric in the construction of each. Any attempt at ski-running upon this playground before its engineers and levellers (which are snow and wind) have achieved their work in point of depth, solidity, and extent, is unsporting and perilous.

The continuous figure or design presented by the upper snow-fields of the Alps in January, from end to end of the chain, is broken by prismatic masses, such as cones, pyramids, and peaks, on the sides of which the laws of gravity forbid the establishment by the concourse of natural forces of snow-surfaces accessible with ski. The runner who has been borne by his ski to the foot of those rock masses—such, for instance, as the top of Monte Rosa as it rises from the Sattel—will continue his ascent as a rock-climber. He will probably find the state of the rocks quite as propitious as in summer, and often considerably better.

To sum up, the characteristics of the ski-running season are: stability of weather, constant dryness of the air, a uniform and continuous running surface, windlessness, a constant body temperature from sunrise to sunset, at times a relatively high air temperature, solar light and solar heat, which must not be confused with air temperature and present an intensity, a duration most surprising to the dweller in plains and on the seaboard; last, but not least, accessibility of the rocky peaks with climbing slopes turned to the sun.

A real trouble is the crevasses. The ice-fields form such wide avenues between the peaks bordering them that a ski-runner must be quite a fool if an avalanche finds him within striking distance. But the crevasses are quite another matter. In summer the protection against falling into crevasses is the rope and careful steering between them. In winter mountaineering the ski, properly speaking, take the place of the rope. The longest traverses in the Alps have been performed by unroped ski-runners. At the same time, the usefulness of the rope, in case of an accident actually occurring, cannot be gainsaid, though it cannot be maintained that the rope, which has been known to cause certain accidents in summer, may be called absolutely free from any such liability in winter. Of the use of the rope we therefore say, “Adhuc sub judice lis est.”

There are two golden rules for avoiding a drop into a crevasse: firstly, keep off glaciers or of those parts of any glacier where crevasses are known to be numerous, deep, long, and wide; secondly, if called upon to run over a glacier that is crevassed, use the rope, but use it properly—that is, bring its full length into use, take off your ski, and proceed exactly as you would do in summer by sounding the snow and crossing bridged crevasses one after another. It is absurd to mix summer and winter craft; they are distinct. When the rope is used under winter conditions, let it be exactly according to the best winter practice.

If going uphill you find yourself landed on ice, take off your ski and gain a footing on the ice by means of the heavy nails on your boots. Never attempt glacier work with unnailed boots or short, light bamboo sticks. If any accident happens suddenly to your ski you are helpless and hopeless without nails; you probably will not have time to take your climbing irons off your rucksack and bind them on to your feet.