Another way of making the kick-turn is to go backwards through the whole process first described. After finishing a tack to the right, for instance, you can move successively through the positions of Plates VIIa., VI., and V., and then lift the upper ski round to the position of Plate III. By turning in this way, however, you lose a little height instead of gaining it; this method is, therefore, rather more suitable for descending a hill in zigzags than for climbing it.
All the above ways of turning are known as uphill turns because one faces the hill during the process; it is also possible to make the kick-turn facing downhill by turning the lower ski first. In order to prevent strain in the intermediate position, this downhill turn should be both started and finished with the skis pointing downwards as much as possible (Fig. 15); this makes it particularly convenient for joining two downhill tacks. It can also, of course, be made backwards as well as forwards, with a slight consequent gain instead of a loss of height. In a downhill kick-turn the skis have more room to move freely, but the balance is much less steady than if one faces the hill. On the whole, the forward uphill turn first described is far the most useful, but when you want to turn in cramped corners, among trees and the like, you will find it a great help to know several ways of doing it.
Although, as I have said, the skis need never be quite parallel at the middle stage of the turn, you must take great care to bring the first ski far enough round to prevent the least chance of its slipping. On a steep or icy slope, where the skis at this stage must be brought nearly parallel, the kick-turn becomes difficult for the stiff-jointed; I have even known two cases in which it was apparently impossible. If, as is highly unlikely, your case is similar, you can always roll round on your back with your skis in the air—a simple but snowy process.
If you dislike this, and if, though the joints of your legs are stiff, the muscles are strong and active (a not unusual combination), you can as a last resource jump round, facing downhill as you turn. The main difficulty in this is to prevent the heels of the skis from catching in the slope when half-way round, and the best way to prevent them doing so is to jump as hard as possible not directly upwards, but out from the hill, so as to land below where you take off. In order to bring round the skis close beside each other, press the knees together throughout the jump. Hold the sticks near their middles, and jump from the toes, not the flat of the foot, with a free swinging action, not a hurried jerky one. This jump needs little skill and is easy enough on a moderate slope, but on a steep one becomes very hard work, for there the skis have less room to turn, and a powerful spring is necessary. The jump round, therefore, being most difficult under the same conditions as the kick-turn, and much more tiring, is hardly a satisfactory substitute for it; I only mention it as a perfectly possible one.
The accompanying diagram, which is practically the same as one in Mr. Richardson’s book, “The Ski-Runner,” shows how, by walking alternately backwards and forwards, one can climb a steep passage, just wide enough to allow zigzagging, without wasting time in turning at the end of each tack. A description is unnecessary. It is, of course, possible to make the tacks of any length, but the number of steps in each must always be an even one, as the tack must be started with the upper foot and finished with the lower.
Half Side-stepping.—In tacking uphill among obstacles you may want to traverse at an angle so steep that the skis would back-slip if you tried to move straight forward in the ordinary way. You will then have to step sideways as well as forwards with each ski, the upper one starting the process and the lower one being drawn up to it, and then advanced. Fig. 17, a, shows the track that will be left.
This must of course be done without pointing the skis uphill more steeply than the angle at which they could traverse in the ordinary way. In lifting the upper ski sideways you are sure at first to point it uphill too much (Fig. 17, b 3), when, if it does not slip back at once, you will tread on it with the heel of the lower ski at the next step (Fig. 17, b 4). To avoid this, do your best at first to place the upper ski horizontally across the slope, lifting its heel well upwards and away from the other, pointing the foot downwards and inwards, and turning your body so as to face a little downhill.
On open ground, if the snow is so slippery that the gradient of an ordinary straightforward traverse has to be very slight indeed, this half side-stepping can be used simply to save time. Especial care must then be taken to place the upper ski nearly horizontally. Half side-stepping can be kept up for a long time without difficulty; but it is more tiring than ordinary straightforward traversing, and I think it is a waste of energy to employ it constantly when there is no special reason for it, as some runners are fond of doing.
Side-stepping.—It is, of course, also possible to side-step directly uphill with the skis quite horizontal, as in Fig. 18, but this, though very easy, is such a tiresome process that it is seldom used except in narrow passages where there is room for nothing else, or for climbing short slopes that are very steep and icy.
Herring-boning (Plate IX.).—This is the quickest but far the most tiring way of going straight up a steep slope. Stand with skis together pointing as much uphill as they can without slipping. Lift the upper ski, and, keeping the feet close together, turn it until it points across the hill in the opposite direction, but at the same angle as before, with its heel across that of the other. Then slide it forwards until it just clears the lower one; stand up on it and draw up the lower foot so that the skis are again crossed at the back at the same angle as before, but with the hitherto lower ski uppermost. You can now take a new step in the other direction, and so on.[6] Fig. 19 shows the track. The steeper the slope the wider must be the angle between the skis to prevent them from slipping back, but you can always, if you find it difficult to turn the feet enough outwards, point the skis uphill more steeply than would otherwise be possible, by simply throwing the weight momentarily against rather than on to each ski (see p. 65), and keeping the feet well apart the whole time instead of bringing them together between each step. But though this is a quicker method, it is a still more tiring one than the first.
If the slope is steep, herring-boning is too exhausting to be kept up for more than a short time by anyone but a trained athlete, but on a gradient which will allow the skis to diverge at only a slight angle it is easy enough.
Getting up from a Fall.—If during any of these manœuvres you should fall down, you may find some difficulty in getting up again.
The first problem is to disentangle the skis, if they have become jammed in a complicated position.
The best way to do this is generally to begin by moving your body as far away from them as possible. If, for instance, you have fallen with your head downhill, wriggle yourself still farther downhill. Next lift your skis into the air, either by rolling on your back and raising the legs from the hips, or by rolling on to your face and bending the legs backwards from the knees. It is generally possible to free the skis in this way, but occasionally one cannot move without unfastening them first.
Having freed them, place them parallel in the air, and roll round on your side so as to bring them to the snow on the downhill side of you and exactly at right angles to the fall of the slope.
This is important, for, if they are pointing either up or down hill, they will, of course, begin to slip the moment you put your weight on them.
If they are quite level, and your feet are exactly below your body, you have merely to push yourself up with the arm which is underneath you and stand erect. If you want to help yourself up with your stick, do not poke it vertically into the snow and try to climb up it, for if the snow is deep and soft you will only plunge it farther in without getting any resistance. Lay it horizontally on the snow, and it will then give you enough purchase to push up from.
On level ground it is harder to get up again than on a hill side, owing to the difficulty of getting the skis underneath one in order to get to one’s feet. After freeing them and placing them parallel, lie on your side, draw your knees as close to your chest, and your feet as close to your thighs as you can, lay your stick flat under your side, and, with a vigorous push on it, you ought to be able to get your weight over the skis and stand up.
Never hurry, or try to struggle frantically to your feet without any definite method. You will merely exhaust yourself. It is impossible, as a rule, to get up without going through the various manœuvres that I have described, but these take a very short time if they are performed smartly and accurately.
GENERAL PRINCIPLES OF STEERING, Etc.
This chapter is mildly theoretical, and may be skipped by the reader who believes in nothing that is not, in the ordinary sense of the word, practical; for in it he will find no definite instructions, but only a description of the behaviour, under different conditions, of the skis when in motion, and an attempt at an explanation of it.
I advise him, however, to try to read it, for I think that what I have to say here is, in a broad sense, strictly practical. I am convinced at any rate, that if, when I began ski-ing, some one had given me the information which I am about to try to impart, and which, for the most part, I have slowly collected for myself, I could have reached in a month the very moderate degree of skill which it has taken me five seasons or so to arrive at.
If the reader can thoroughly grasp the few facts with which this chapter is concerned—and he can take my word for the facts, whatever he may think about my comments on them—he will, I think, find it far easier to understand, remember, and put into practice the instructions which he will find in the subsequent chapters, as to the various swings, turns, and other manœuvres for controlling and steering the skis, and keeping the balance while running downhill.
Before proceeding any further, I had better, in order to avoid any chance of being misunderstood, explain certain terms of which I shall constantly make use throughout the rest of the book. These terms are the “edging” and “flattening” of the skis, and the “inside” and “outside” of a curve.
If any reader feels that an explanation of these terms is an insult to his intelligence, I can only assure him that such an explanation has been necessary in the case of many of my pupils.
The terms “edging” and “flattening” simply have reference to the relation of the plane of the ski’s sole with that of the general surface on which it is resting, and do not refer to its relation with a horizontal plane, or, in other words, to its position in space.
Thus a ski is “flat” when standing in the normal position on level ground; but, when standing in the normal position on the side of a slope, it is not “flat,” but “edged,” for in this case the edge nearest the hill cuts deeper into the snow than the other although the plane of the sole is still horizontal. (Fig. 20, a and b.)
The case is altered when the ski is inclined sideways; on level ground a ski that is inclined sideways is “edged” (c and e); but on the side of a hill a ski when inclined sideways so that the plane of its sole becomes parallel with that of the surface of the slope, is not “edged” but “flat” (d). When inclined to the opposite side, however, it is, of course, “edged” even more strongly than in the normal position (f).
The inside and outside of a curve mean, respectively, the sides nearest to, and farthest from, the centre of the circle of which that curve is an arc; that is to say, that in speaking of a swing or a turn to the right, the right ski, foot, and so forth are the inside, and the left the outside ones, while in the case of a turn to the left it is just the reverse.
This is simple enough. A shade of ambiguity, however, may lie in the fact that the edges of a ski are generally called “inside” and “outside” with reference to their relation to the foot, in the same way as those of a skate. In speaking, then, of swings or turns, the right edge, say, of the right ski may be referred to as its “outside” edge, even when the right ski itself, and the right leg, shoulder, and so on are all the inner ones in relation to the curve of the swing.
Now for the facts referred to above.
When a ski is pointed directly downhill and is made to slide with its sole held flat on the snow, it runs, if properly constructed, in a perfectly straight line.
If it is then “edged” to one side it runs round gradually to that side, the curved point acting against the snow like a bow rudder and drawing it to that side.
The steering effect, in theory, increases with the edging until it reaches its maximum when the ski is edged to a right angle. What happens in practice is that though the edging and the steering effect do increase together, there is no use in edging the ski beyond a certain angle—less than 45°—as, if that angle is exceeded, the ski sinks deeply into the snow and refuses to slide.
If that angle is not exceeded, however, the deeper the ski sinks into the snow (owing to the softness of the latter) the greater is the steering effect, for then a larger and more sharply curved surface of the point comes into action as a rudder.
If when going straight downhill the runner “edges” his ski—we will suppose he has only one—by simply leaning sideways, he will equally simply fall down; but if he “edges” it without leaning—if he edges it in relation to himself, so to speak—it will begin to turn; that he then leans sideways in order to keep his balance does not make the turn sharper.
If the runner traverses the slope with his ski held normally, as in Fig. 20, b, it will run straight, for although it is then edged in relation to the slope it is not edged in relation to him. If he edges it in relation to himself it will turn more or less according as the gradient of its previous traverse has been steep or gradual.
When a ski running straight downhill is made to turn by “edging,” the further it turns, and the less directly therefore it points downhill, the less abrupt becomes the curve of its course. This curve, indeed, eventually becomes so gradual that before the ski has turned far enough to point horizontally across the slope and come to a standstill, the line of its track is practically straight.
When, therefore, a ski, traversing directly at a moderate gradient, is simply “edged” towards the slope, there is no perceptible turning effect, even if the runner does not lean inwards.
At first sight it might appear that the movement of a ski when edged and travelling in a curve would be precisely similar to that of a skate, and so it is in a way.
Since the edge of a skate is, in shape, the arc of a circle, a skate, when edged, cuts cleanly round without side-slip, and so in a sense does a ski, when simply edged, for its heel then follows in the track of its point. An edged ski, moreover, like a skate, turns more or less gradually, according to the angle at which it is edged. But while a skate, the edge of which is curved throughout, touches the ice with only a very small part of this edge, and is able to make a curve of very small radius, a ski touches the snow with nearly the whole length of its edge, the greater part of which is quite straight. This straight part so far neutralises the turning action of the curved point, that a ski made to turn simply by edging is unable to make anything but a very long and gradual curve—so gradual, indeed, that for practical purposes of steering the edging of the ski, unaided, is absolutely useless.
But though, contrary to what one might expect, the edging or flattening of the skis may practically be disregarded as primary factors in a turn, they are, as we shall see, of the greatest importance as secondary ones.
Before a ski can be made to turn at all sharply, its heel must be got out of the track of its point and made to travel faster on a curve of its own (as in Fig. 21, b). The ski as a whole, in fact, must be made to side-slip more or less as well as move forward.
The first question, then, is how the ski-heel is to be got out of the track of the point in order that the side-slip may start. If the ski is pointing nearly directly downhill, whether flat and running straight, or moving edged in a long curve, there is—apart from the help of the other ski, which we will leave out of the question for the present—only one possible way of doing it. The runner, by means of sudden—though not necessarily more than a very slight—muscular effort must jerk it more or less broadside on. How he makes this effort need not be considered here; we will also defer the consideration of the other ways in which the side-slip may be started. Supposing it has been started, it must then, by edging or flattening, be encouraged to continue, if the ski is to go on turning.
It depends on the quality of the snow as to whether a ski side-slips more freely when flat or when more or less edged. If the surface of the snow is hard and icy, or if there is a mere shallow layer of loose snow on a hard crust, a ski will slip sideways either when quite flat or when slightly or even strongly edged on the side from which it is moving.
The flat position would in this case be the more favourable if the hard surface were perfectly smooth; this, however, it seldom is; it usually has small projections which, when the ski is quite flat, strike its side and check or stop it, while, if the edge is raised, they strike its sole obliquely and affect its motion but little.
The flat position, then, is not advisable as an aid to side-slip even in the case of hard snow; on snow of any other kind it is still less advisable, for if the ski sinks deeply into loose soft snow, or even but a little way into dense soft snow or into a thin crust, it can hardly be induced to side-slip at all when held quite flat, while when more or less edged, it can usually (if already in motion) be made to do so without much difficulty.
The reason is not quite obvious, for at first glance it would appear that the ski would meet more resistance from the snow in the edged position than in the flat, but this is not the case, for, when the ski is edged, most of the resistance is exerted obliquely against its sole, and so tends to make the ski rise to the surface of the snow and relieves the pressure. When, however, the ski is flat, the resistance acts directly against the side of it, and there is no lifting tendency to diminish the rapidity with which this resistance increases as the snow is compressed.
Moreover, since during a turn the runner must lean inwards to keep his balance, the ski cannot remain in its normal position in relation to the leg unless it is more or less edged inwards (Fig. 22, a). That the leg and ski should remain as nearly as possible in their normal relative positions is an advantage, for the more nearly they do so the less is the strain on the ankle. If the weighted ski is held quite flat during a turn in which it is outermost, that ankle is placed in a very unstable position (Fig. 22, b), and is liable to give way and so edge the ski on that side towards which it is moving (Fig. 22, c); it will then cut more deeply into the snow and be brought instantly to a standstill.
In all that I have said so far about side-slip, I have assumed that the ski is moving more or less broadside on, with its heel travelling outside the track of its tip and its pivoting point well forward, and this is what either one or both skis actually do during the greater part of any swing or turn; for, in turning, a ski usually passes through the positions of either b or c, Fig. 23. A ski may also, as, for instance, in turning downwards from a slow traverse, move so that the curve in which its point travels is outside that of the heel (Fig. 23, d) and its pivoting point is near the heel. In each of these cases, though one end is side-slipping faster than the other, both ends are slipping to the same side, and the ski, as I have said, has therefore to be edged to the opposite side.
If, however, the ski begins to turn as in d, and finishes as in b or c, it must of course be edged first to one side and then to the other, as in e, and for a moment be flat. At this moment the pivoting point of the ski is at its centre, and its heel is side-slipping in one direction as much as its point is in the other, as in a. If ever, therefore, a ski, in turning, continues to pivot on its centre (Fig. 23, a) instead of only doing so for a moment, it must obviously be held quite flat, as otherwise either one end or the other will cut below the surface of the snow and be checked suddenly.
Now the pivoting point of a ski is never behind its centre except during a downward turn, and the faster the runner is moving before the turn, and the sharper the turn is made, the more quickly this point moves to the front; the only case, I believe, in which it remains near the centre for an appreciable time, and when, therefore, the ski has to be held deliberately flat, being that of the outer ski during a “steered” Christiania swing.
In order to facilitate side-slip, therefore, the outer edge of the ski must usually be raised as it turns or, even if at first the inner edge must be raised, a change of edge must usually take place almost immediately. The flat position, in fact, must never be sustained—except, as I have said, during a Christiania “steered” swing, and even then only for a short time—it is simply a necessary incident in a change of edge.
In each figure in Diagram 23 the dotted line with arrows shows the average direction of the ski’s course at each point, and whether, therefore, it must be edged or flat.
The foregoing remarks are an explanation of how the edging or flattening of the ski can be made to help the side-slip; the next thing is to understand how the side-slip can be made to help the ski to turn sharply.
If, when either standing still on the side of a slope or running across it in the normal, edged position, a ski is partially flattened, it will begin to slip sideways—in the first case moving directly downhill, and in the second obliquely, i.e. forwards as well as sideways.
Now the foot stands on the ski at about halfway between the front bend and the heel—that is to say, about the middle of that part of the blade which rests on the snow; and as long as the runner’s weight is placed equally on toe and heel, a ski in side-slipping will continue to point in a direction parallel to that in which it was pointing when the side-slip began.
When, however, the runner’s weight is placed on the heel, that end of the ski will side-slip faster than the other, and the farther the ski slips the more it will point uphill; while when the weight is placed on the toe the reverse will happen.
Fig. 24 shows what will happen if a ski, when (a, b, c) at rest on, or (d, e, f) running across a slope, is made to side-slip with the runner’s weight variously distributed. In this and succeeding diagrams the blackened portions of the skis are those on which the runner’s weight is put.
In a the ski slips broadside on downhill.
In b it gradually revolves as it slips, and would finish by running downhill backwards if its shape did not prevent it from doing so.
In c its rotation is reversed, and it finally runs straight downhill.
In d it runs slightly sideways, but the direction of its course is a straight line.
In e it turns uphill and at a certain point stops.
In f it at first turns and finally runs straight downhill.
The side-slip can be stopped more or less quickly at any stage by the runner strongly edging the ski and at the same time again equalising the distribution of his weight on it.
Whether the ski then runs on in the direction in which it is pointing, or comes to a standstill, of course depends on whether it is pointing downhill or not.
It is obvious, then, that when a ski is in motion across a slope the runner, by means of the side-slip, can make it turn in either direction and to any extent up to a certain limit, and can in this way either come to a standstill, slightly alter his direction, or run straight downhill. It is equally obvious that no matter what means are employed for starting a turn (there are more ways of doing so than I have yet described), the distribution of the runner’s weight on the ski or skis which carry it may make all the difference to the success or failure of the manœuvre.
I have already said that when a ski is running straight downhill it may be made to turn by the runner jerking it somewhat broadside on. He can of course do the same with the two skis, but a simpler plan is for him to stand on one, point the other more or less in the direction in which he wants to go, and hold it so for a moment. It is thus of course made to “stem”—in other words, to side-slip—and, if the runner then throws his weight on to its heel, it can, as we have just seen, be made to turn still further, the previously weighted one being again brought parallel with it as it does so. A turn can also be started from a traverse in the same way.
When one ski is held at an angle with the other in order to start a turn in the above way, the relative position of the two usually produces some steering effect; the two skis in fact act together something like a boat and rudder. To say that one ski may be looked upon as the boat and the other as the rudder is hardly accurate, for the steering effect is at its greatest when, as the runner’s weight is shifted from the ski that is running straight ahead to the one that is held sideways, it rests equally on both; at which moment, since their area is equal, either of the skis may equally well be looked upon as the rudder or as the boat. If, however, it is remembered that the boat steers the rudder no less than the rudder steers the boat, and that if the rudder is fixed in a certain position, it and the boat together may be considered as one solid object whose shape determines whether and how it is able to turn, one may, by comparing the skis with a boat and rudder, understand whether and how, when held in various relative positions, they are able to turn.
The diagram shows the skis as they are held at the beginning of—a, a Telemark, b, a Stemming turn, and c, a Christiania. It also shows a boat turning to the left steered by both a bow and a stern rudder.
The steering action of the skis may be best understood by considering the blackened parts of each pair (in which the steering effect is neutral) as the sides of a boat, and the light point and heel of each pair as a bow and stern rudder respectively. It will then be seen that the boat is in each case helped to turn to the left by the action of both rudders, or that if it can in some way be made to turn to the left without the help of the rudders, they will at least not hinder it—than which, as a matter of fact, little more can be said in the case of the Telemark; though in the Stemming turn there is a strong steering action while the skis remain in this position, and a distinct, if weak, one in the Christiania.
The principal factors, then, in the control and steering of the skis are the edging or flattening of them, the distribution of the weight on them, and the placing of them in certain positions in relation to each other. How these various factors interact during the different swings, turns, &c., will be explained more fully in subsequent chapters, but before closing this one I want to give some explanation of how a turn on skis depends as to its character on whether the ski at the moment of beginning the turn is running straight down the hill or across it, on whether the speed is high or low, and the slope steep or gentle, and also on the quality of the snow.
The accompanying diagram shows the successive positions assumed by a ski (the leading one, the other is not shown) during a turn to the right, under various conditions.
The line passing through the middle of the skis shows the curve on which the runner himself travels during the turn; the line ending in a double arrow shows the sort of curve on which he would travel if the ski were able to cut round without side-slip as a skate does. It will be seen that if there were no side-slip he would in every case move steadily to the right of the line of his original course (shown by a dotted line in the diagram), but that, on account of the side-slip, the line on which he travels sometimes moves only slightly to the right of that line, even when the turn itself is a sharp one, that sometimes it moves to the left of it and then recrosses it, and that sometimes it remains entirely on the left of it throughout the turn. To understand how, according to the conditions, the curve of the runners actual course varies, is a great help to the balance, for at first one’s instinct is to balance the body as if the ski were cutting round like a skate, i.e. to lean inwards too much, which, of course, inevitably results in a fall.
In every case the turn is supposed to be made as sharply as the conditions allow. It will be seen that on hard snow the runner, when travelling fast, will skid almost directly sideways for some distance from the spot where he actually finishes turning.
a, b, c, d are turns made while the runner is travelling straight downhill, or, which amounts to the same thing, while he is running on the level at the end of a downhill slide. e, f, g, h are turns made while the runner is descending a slope obliquely. a to f are what are known as uphill turns, which bring the runner to a standstill; g and h are downhill ones, which enable him to join one tack to another when descending a hill in zigzags.
If anyone who has done no ski-ing at all reads this chapter, he will, no doubt, think it very complicated; but if, while actually learning to ski, and especially while learning the turns, he looks through it from time to time, I think he will soon understand whatever is not quite clear, and will, I hope, find that it helps him to correct his mistakes and to understand and remember his instructions.
STRAIGHT-RUNNING
Cleaning Skis.—Before attempting to start, you must make sure that your skis will slide.
In thawy weather, or very strong sunshine, the snow may stick to their under surfaces—so badly, sometimes, that sliding is out of the question. But it is seldom quite impossible to slide, and under conditions which seem hopeless to a beginner one can generally get started, if one knows how to set about it. When once under weigh the great thing is to keep moving, for the moment the skis stop sliding the snow will stick again, and the whole cleaning process described below must be repeated.
In snow which is only slightly sticky you need merely stamp your skis hard once or twice, and rub them firmly backwards and forwards on the hardened snow until you can feel that they are quite slippery. Then slide off at once.
If the snow sticks badly, the skis must be scraped on each other (unless there are any branches or hard objects lying about which will do as well). To do this on level ground is easy; on the side of a hill rather less so.
Suppose you are obliged to start your run on the hillside and wish to scrape your skis.
First stand with your skis pointing across the slope, and, by vigorously stamping or jumping, make as hard a place to stand in as possible.
If you are standing with your right side to the hill, and want to scrape the right ski, rest your left ski on its right (inside) edge, lift round the right ski, and put it across the other one, at right angles to it, just behind the left foot and pointing directly uphill. Then scrape it hard up and down across the raised outer edge of the left ski, bending the left knee well and crouching down so as to get a long scrape from the heel right up to the bend of the right ski (Plate XI.). When the ski feels perfectly smooth, lift it round again parallel to the other ski, and without resting it on the snow for an instant stamp and rub it backwards and forwards until it is as slippery as possible and the snow beneath it as hard and smooth as you can make it. Then, and not until then, you can rest the ski on the snow, placing it on its right (outer) edge and doing your best to prevent its sole from touching the snow. Now, with your weight on the right ski, but still holding it well on its edge, face downhill, lift round the left ski, put it across the heel of the other one, pointing downhill, and, crouching well down as before, scrape it clean on the inside edge of the other (Plate XII.); this time it is the heel of the ski which it is difficult to get at. Then bring it round to the side of the right ski, repeat the stamping and rubbing process, and place it carefully on its inside edge. Now start instantly. (How to do so is explained later.)
If the snow is very bad indeed, it is best, when on tour, before beginning the descent, to take off the skis, scrape and wipe them absolutely clean, and dry them thoroughly in the sun or air—but not, if you can help it, by standing them upright in the snow, for if they are wet the water will run down and form ice at the heel ends. Then wax and polish them well, let their soles cool in the shade if they are warm from the sun, and put them on. You will probably be able to slide off without trouble; or, if it is still necessary to scrape and rub them, they will become clean more easily.
This scraping sounds an elaborate and wearisome process, and so it is. Fortunately it is not often necessary; but, when the snow is really bad, it is an enormous saving of time and trouble in the end to attend minutely to every detail, and may be the only means of getting a run at all.
It is not unusual to see a beginner refuse to get his skis thoroughly clean, under the impression that the slower pace will make things easier for him. He could not make a greater mistake. If he leaves any snow sticking to his skis they will certainly move slowly (unless they refuse to slide altogether), but they will do so with an irregular, jerky motion which is ten times more upsetting than the fastest movement of polished skis.
Starting.—To start from the top of a hill is a simple matter. You walk to the edge and slide over in any direction you choose.
On the side of a slope, however, there is a difficulty in starting a run straight downhill owing to the fact that, as you move the skis round, they begin to slide before you are facing the way you wish to go.
One way to overcome this difficulty is as follows: Suppose you are standing at right angles to the fall of the slope, with the hill on your right, and wish to start to run straight downhill.
First move both skis round a little way, so that, like the left ski in Plate XIII., they point downhill as directly as possible without actually slipping. Then, putting all the weight on the left ski, lift the right ski and place it on the snow, pointing straight downhill, its tip being just in front of and below the tip of the other one, as in the photograph. The weight should still be on the left ski. If there is any sign of slipping, you can stop it by turning the skis on to their inside edges and pressing outwards against them with the legs.
You are now quite steady and ready to start. In order to do so you merely have to throw all your weight on to the right foot and to lean well forward, downhill. The right ski will at once slide off, the right foot will strike and push forward the point of the left ski, which will, if left to itself, come round, and fall into what, as will appear later, is its proper position close to the side of the other.
Another simple and frequently used method of starting downhill from the horizontal position is to jump round. The same points are to be noticed as when using a jump in the place of a kick-turn. Bring the feet level, spring from the ball of the foot, press the knees as well as the feet together, hold the skis parallel, and don’t let their heels drop. You must land leaning well forward, so that the general direction of the body and legs is at right angles to the slope, not vertical, otherwise the skis will run from under you.
This jump round is easier than the first one described, being only a quarter-turn, while the other is a half-turn.
Straight-running.—As you begin to slide, place yourself in the position of Plates XIV. and XV., which is the normal one for running downhill—skis held in contact, so that they leave a single track; one ski about a foot in advance of the other; the advanced leg almost straight at the knee, the other more bent; nearly all the weight on the back foot; the inside of the front knee pressed against the kneecap of the other; body erect; arms hanging easily by the sides; stick, or sticks, if carried, held clear of the snow.
Hold yourself perfectly easily and without stiffness, especially at the knees, which should give to the inequalities of the ground. It is far better to stand too loosely, and sway about somewhat, than to keep every muscle tense.
You can keep the skis together without effort by bending the knees and ankles well inwards, so as to place the skis slightly on their inside edges; they will then tend to run together rather than to separate. Take the greatest care to avoid any approach to a bow-legged position, which would edge the skis outwards. There should be no daylight visible between your knees to a person standing in front of you.
If you should find the skis running wide apart with the weight equally on both, don’t try to force them together, but throw all your weight on to one ski, and then you will be able to move back the other quite easily to its proper position.
Carry the stick, or sticks, as shown in the photographs (Plates XIV. and XV.). On no account hold a single stick (or the two sticks placed together) in both hands. If you feel the smallest tendency to do so, practise at first with nothing in your hands.
This will save you from acquiring the habit of falling into the deplorable attitude shown in Plate XVI., or the almost equally bad one in which the stick is held out in front transversely like a balancing pole, ready for the teeth of its owner if he happens to pitch forwards.
If their weight or length makes it difficult to keep the sticks clear of the snow when held by the ends, hold them rather nearer the middle, but not much nearer or they will be more likely to hurt you if you fall.
Don’t hold out the arms horizontally from the shoulders, for that is tiring and ungraceful.
The knees, as I said, should give to small inequalities of the ground; but as you are almost sure instinctively to stiffen them a little when you find yourself approaching a bump or hollow which looks likely to upset your balance, it is as well to bend or straighten them voluntarily according to circumstances. As you go over a mound, for instance, bend the knees and let the body sink; if it is necessary to sink low, raise the heel of the back foot and let more weight fall on the advanced one. As you cross a hollow, straighten the knees and rise as high as you can. In this way the pressure of the skis on the snow will vary but little and the unevenness of the ground will scarcely be felt. The feeling will be that of moving steadily and smoothly along, lifting the skis over the hillocks, and pressing them down into the hollows. A spectator who can only see your head and body should hardly know that the ground over which you are moving is not perfectly smooth.
In this way you can negotiate short variations of gradient where the general angle of the slope remains constant. In the case of larger inequalities, or where the general angle of the slope changes, you must alter your procedure. The line from your centre of gravity to its point of support must always be at right angles to the surface of the slope, so, where the ground becomes steeper, you will have to lean more forward, and less so where it becomes less steep. But though you will have to tilt yourself forward consciously as you pass on to a steeper slope, you may safely leave to unconscious instinct the backward lean in the opposite case. If you try to lean backward consciously, you are almost certain to overdo it and to sit down.
There is a further safeguard in the case of sudden changes of gradient, very rough ground, snow of varying consistency which alternately checks and accelerates the speed, and, in fact, anything which makes it difficult to keep the balance-that is, to drop into what is generally known as the “Telemark” position (Plates XVII., XVIII., XIX.), because it is the one held during the swing of that name.
To assume this attitude, you shift the weight from the back foot to the advanced one, and then sink down, leaning the body forwards, bending both knees, and sliding the back ski still farther back until its bend is level with the leading ankle.
Practically all your weight should then be upon the leading foot, and upon its heel, no less than its toes. To make sure of this, the advanced leg must be bent at the knee almost to a right angle, and the knee must be kept well forward, so that the leg, from the knee downwards, will be at right angles to the ski, no matter how steep may be the slope.
If the front foot is thrust forward in advance of the knee, too much weight will fall on the toe (unlikely as it may appear) and, moreover, some weight will be thrown on the back foot, which should carry next to none. Let the back knee drop until quite close to the ski (when crossing uneven ground it will very likely touch it) and raise the heel of the back foot as far as possible. That leg should then be perfectly relaxed and easy. Keep the skis close together as before, so that they leave a single track, by edging them a trifle inwards and pressing both knees, especially the back one, well inwards so that, seen from in front or behind, they overlap.
Practise running in this position with either foot leading, taking care to keep the weight well on the front foot. It is an indispensable accomplishment; and although at first it may not seem so easy a position as the normal one, it is such a help to the balance that later on you must be on your guard or you may contract the bad habit of running constantly in this position when there is no real need for it.
In this position not only is the centre of gravity lowered, but the base of support is considerably lengthened, and the fore and aft stability is thus enormously increased. By means of it you will be able to move with perfect steadiness over ground which would almost inevitably upset you if you were to stand up in the normal position.
In this, just as in the normal position, you can consciously raise and lower yourself to allow for uneven ground, by bending or straightening the advanced leg; but this will seldom be necessary, except for very abrupt inequalities.
Even sudden changes of speed have little power to disturb your balance when you are running in this attitude. If the gradient suddenly becomes much steeper, as in Plates XVIII. and XIX., you should give a determined plunge forwards, as though trying to get ahead of your skis. If, however, you are taken by surprise, and run suddenly on to an invisible icy patch or over a steep drop in bad light, you will probably at the worst only find your weight thrown on to the back foot, and will be able to recover yourself. On the other hand, if the speed is checked and you are thrown forwards, the back foot will tend to rise into the air, and, receiving the weight of the ski, will most likely just save you. If the check is so abrupt as to throw you right off your balance forwards, you can often save yourself by bringing, with a quick stride, the disengaged back foot to the front to receive your weight. Indeed you are almost sure to do so instinctively.
Another position, which is employed by some runners under circumstances such as I have just described, is as follows:—
The runner crouches as low as possible, almost sitting on the raised heel of the back foot; the front leg, from the knee downwards, is perpendicular to the ski, but its foot is not much farther ahead than in the normal running position; the back knee is pressed against the inside of the front leg, just above the ankle.
This attitude is less tiring to hold than the Telemark position, but is, I think, less of a safeguard to the balance when the speed changes suddenly or the ground is very rough.
All that I have just said has reference only to the preservation of the balance in a fore and aft direction. The question of lateral stability is far simpler; on all ordinary occasions it is sufficiently secured by keeping the skis as close together, and so making as narrow a track as possible.
The reason for this is not quite self-evident, but is easily explained.
If a bicycle be ridden on bumpy ground, it will not be tilted sideways as it crosses the side of an undulation, and will have no tendency to upset unless it actually side-slips.
A tricycle, on the other hand, or any vehicle with a wide wheel-base, will under similar circumstances be more or less tilted according to the angle of the ground, and will, unless it has a very wide wheel-base and a low centre of gravity, be easily upset by a sudden transverse variation in the angle of the ground, especially when moving fast.
The diagram shows how a ski-runner when holding his skis apart may be compared with a tricycle, when holding them together with a bicycle.
This is not quite a fair simile, for, while the cases of the bicycle and of the ski-runner in the single-track position are exactly analogous, a man with his skis apart is not a rigid construction like a tricycle, but, by letting his knees give and by swaying his body, can adapt himself to the change of gradient.
Still, the tendency is always, especially in the case of the beginner, for the legs to stiffen when they ought to yield, and on this account alone the single-track position is the safer.