Ladies in the Field: Sketches of Sport

by Unknown

The best plan is, in the very beginning, to take a few practical lessons. There is an excellent teacher to be found at Singers' shop, in Holborn Viaduct, where a cellar paved with asphalt is kept as a school. The beginner would do well to practise there until she can at least sit up on the machine and balance it a little, and until she begins to understand the first principles of steering. At this point in bicycling education I would urge her to leave the schoolroom for the high road. If she waits until she is too far advanced on asphalt, where the machine goes almost by itself, she may have to commence all over again on an ordinary road. She should learn what is called ankle action from the start. Once the cyclist gets into a bad style of riding it is hard for her to get out of it; and the more the ankle comes into play the less strain is there on the muscles of the legs. A good rider expends half as much energy and makes far better time than the woman who has not mastered the art. If going up hill be exhausting, why, then it is wise to walk. Going down, if the hill be long, the brake must be used from the start, and to know how to back-pedal is important. To back-pedal is to press on the pedal when it is coming up instead of when it is going down. Nothing could be more dangerous than to lose control of a machine on a down grade. Some of the most serious accidents have been the result of the rider's letting her cycle run away with her in coasting.

I have enumerated the virtues of the bicycle. As to its vices, I do not find that it has any. An objection often is raised against it because, if brought to a stand-still by traffic or any other cause, the rider must dismount at once. But I do not count this a serious hardship; I have never been inconvenienced by it. Again, it is urged that the luggage-carrying capacity of the safety is small compared to that of the three-wheeled machine. This is truer of the woman's than of the man's bicycle, since we, poor things, must carry our knapsack behind the saddle or on the handle bars, while a most delightful and clever little bag is made by Rendell & Underwood to fit into the diamond frame of a man's safety. But, for a short trip, actual necessities—that is, a complete change of underclothing, a night-dress, and a not too luxurious toilet case—can be carried in the knapsack slung behind. For a long trip it is always advisable to send a large bag or trunk, according to the individual's wants, from one big town to the next on the route.

Luggage suggests the subject of dress, as important to the woman who cycles as to the woman who dances. A grey tweed that defies dust and rain alike, makes the perfect gown; if a good, strong waterproof be added, a second dress will not be needed. For summer, a linen or thin flannel blouse and jacket—perhaps a silk blouse, for evening, in the knapsack—and, for all seasons, one of Henry Heath's felt hats complete the costume. For underwear, the rule is wool next the skin, combinations by choice. Woollen stays contribute to one's comfort, and each rider can decide for herself between knickerbockers and a short petticoat. There is something to be said for each. This is practically the outfit supplied by the Cyclists Touring Club for its women members. As for style, an ordinary tailor-made gown, simple rather than elaborate, answers the purpose of the tricyclist. The bicyclist does not get off so easily. Even with a suitable dress-guard, and, no matter what the makers say, the dress-guard should extend over the entire upper half of the rear wheel, there is ever danger of full long skirts catching in the spokes and bringing the wearer in humiliation and sorrow to the ground. Many strange and awful costumes have been invented to obviate the danger—one that is skirt without and knickerbockers within; another that is nothing more nor less than a shapeless bag, when all that is needed is a dress shorter and skimpier than usual, with hem turned up on the outside, and absolutely nothing on the inner side to catch in the pedals. Now, the trouble is that for the tourist, who carries but one gown, and who objects to being stared at as a "Freak" escaped from a side show, it is awkward, when off the bicycle, to be obliged to appear in large towns in a dress up to her ankles; she might pass unnoticed in Great Britain, but on the Continent she becomes the observed of all observers. At the risk of seeming egotistic, I will explain, as I have already explained elsewhere, the device by which I make my one cycling gown long and short, as occasion requires. There is a row of safety hooks, five in all, around the waistband, and a row of eyes on the skirt about a foot below. In a skirt so provided, I look like every other woman when off the machine. Just before I mount, I hook it up, and I wheel off with an easy mind, knowing there is absolutely nothing to catch anywhere. I have read in cycling papers many descriptions of other women's bicycling costumes, but never yet have I discovered one which, for simplicity and appropriateness, could compete with mine.[ [9]

On all that concerns touring, it is important to dwell, for it is in travelling on the road that women must find chief use for their cycles, and this they have had the common sense to realise. Quite a number belong to the Cyclists' Touring Club, and are among its more active members. True, a few have appeared on the path, have turned the highway into a race course, and occasionally, have broken records and done the other wonders to which I, personally, attach no value, whether they be performed by men or women. Mrs J. S. Smith, whose husband is the manufacturer of the "Invincible" cycles, has with him, on his "sociable" and tandem, run at several Surrey meetings and in other places, and her feats are included in the list of the world's records. Mrs Allen of Birmingham, once rode two hundred miles in twenty-four hours. Fraulein Johanne Jörgensen, the woman champion of Denmark, is fast breaking the records of her own country, and threatens to come over and break those of England. The ease with which Mrs Preston Davies (wife of the inventor of the Preston Davies tyre) rode up Petersham Hill, though not exactly a record, made quite a little talk among cyclists. Miss Reynolds, who rode from Brighton to London and back in eight hours, is the heroine of the day. We have even seen a team of women professionals imported from America only to meet with the failure they deserved. But, fortunately, these are the exceptions. I say fortunately, because, while I am not prudish enough to be shocked by the mere appearance of women on the path, I do not think they have the physical strength to risk the fearful strain and exertion. If men cannot stand it for many years, women can still less. Cycling is healthy; to this fact we have the testimony of such men as Dr Richardson and Dr Oscar Jennings, whose books on the subject should be consulted by all interested; especially Dr Jenning's "Cycling and Health," since in his chapter on "Cycling for Women," he has collected together the opinions of leading authorities. Like everything else, however, if carried to excess, cycling becomes a positive evil.

It can be overdone on the road, but here the temptations are not so great. I know many women who have toured often and far, and are none the worse for it. There are few, however, who have taken notable rides. Mrs Harold Lewis of Philadelphia, once, with her husband, travelled on a tandem from Calais across France and Switzerland, and over some of the highest Swiss passes. In the Elwell tours from America—a species of personally-conducted tours on wheels—women have more than once been in the party. But of other long journeys so seldom have I heard, that sometimes I wonder if, without meaning to, I have broken the record as touring wheel-woman. But the truth is, that, while every racing event is chronicled far and wide in the press, the tourist accomplishes her feats without advertisement, solely for the pleasure of travelling by cycle.

And what stronger inducement could she have? Hers is all the joy of motion, not to be under-estimated, and of long days in the open air; all the joy of adventure and change. Hers is the delightful sense of independence and power, the charm of seeing the country in the only way in which it can be seen; instead of being carried at lightning speed from one town to another where the traveller is expected and prepared for, the cyclist's is a journey of discovery through little forgotten villages and by lonely farm-houses where the sight-seer is unknown. And, above all, cycling day after day and all day long will speedily reduce, or elevate, her to that perfect state of physical well-being, to that healthy animal condition, which in itself is one of the greatest pleasures in life.

Women have used cycles for other purposes. Doctors ride them to visit their patients, the less serious go shopping on them. Clubs have been formed here, and more successfully in America. There is at least one journalist, Miss Lilias Campbell Davidson, who is on the staff of the Bicycling News and the Cyclists' Touring Club Gazette. But, when all is said, the true function of the cycle is to contribute to the amusement and not the duties of life, and it is in touring that this end is best fulfilled.

Elizabeth Robins Pennell.

PUNTING.