Jumping

THE TELEMARK TURNFrom the Drawing by Fleming Williams

THE TELEMARK TURN

From the Drawing by Fleming Williams

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 adifficult 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, askier, 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 Ican’tbe 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 tothis 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 thedazzle 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 thetendency to slip. These, of course, are removed when the ascent is over.

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, areboughs 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.

A good place to see the jumping from is to the side of the track down which the jumper will come and a little way below the platform: here let us suppose ourselves standing. On each side of the course stretch out lines of spectators, and a hundred yardsabove the jumper is standing talking to friends and seeming positively to enjoy what lies in front of him. Then the word is given, and, steadying himself on his two sticks he points his skis straight down towards the jump. He shoves off with his sticks, leaving them standing in the snow (for no jumper uses sticks when he jumps, which would be highly dangerous), and at swiftly accelerating speed glides down the slope. As he approaches the jumping-platform he crouches low, and just as he traverses it he springs upwards and forwards into the air. High above your head, a veritable flying man, he soars, with all the impetus that his run and his spring have given him. For a hundred feet or more he continues this amazing flight in a superb curve, and you wait breathless, scarcely able to believe that when he touches the ground again at that pace and from that height there will be anything but a heap of broken bones there. But he alights without shock or the least appearance of unsteadiness, and simultaneously, it appears, he is already another hundred feet down the slope, going like an arrow. Then comes perhaps the most astounding feat of all: he suddenly kneels, and in a moment has swung round with a Telemark, and has come to rest, facing up the hillside over which he has flown and skimmed. And then this extraordinary young man (he is usually rather young) will climb his slope again and instantly repeat the process, in evident enjoyment, or, more remarkable yet, he will get hold of another like himself, and they will take their jump hand-in-hand, let go of each other on landing, and Telemark, one to the right the other to the left!

This jumping is certainly ski-ingin excelsis, and jumpers tell

THE JUMPFrom the Drawing by Fleming Williams

THE JUMP

From the Drawing by Fleming Williams

us that if the beginner starts with small jumps, and is careful to do everything correctly and in the proper style from the beginning, he will not find it either a difficult or dangerous pursuit. But he must be careful to make his movements (his crouch, his spring, his angle in the air, the levelness of his skis as he alights, &c.) with accuracy and correct timing; while it is not less important that the jump itself should be properly constructed and the slopes that lead to and from it be of suitable steepness. Indeed, what appears to the ignorant onlooker the most hazardous part of the whole affair, namely, the landing on a very steep slope, is safe only if the slope is steep, and the real obstacle that lies in the way of most men taking up jumping as a sport, is not that it is dangerous so much as that their nerves tell them that it must be, and refuse to make the crouch and spring (thesäts, as the Norwegians call it) with vigour and confidence, even if they can master their nerves so far as to let themselves run down on to the platform at all. But having once reached the platform, the spring must be made: otherwise the would-be jumper will merely flow stickily, so to speak, over the edge, bury the toes of his skis in the snow, and certainly have a bad fall. But, indeed, the nerves must be in good condition, for the platform, approaching it from above, looks exactly like a cliff’s edge, and, jutting out as it does from the slope, it entirely conceals the slope below it: your eye tells you that you are merely leaping over the end of all things. But if, after considering the question, you decide, as most people do, that you will not begin jumping this season, you have only to repeat that prudent resolution for a few more seasons, and then you willbe able to tell yourself and everybody else that it is no use trying to learn to jump unless you begin it quite as a boy. This does not really happen to be the case; but it is one of those excuses that are always granted acceptance, and, having firmly established it in your own mind, your nipped ambition will cease to worry you any more.

A further delightful pastime to be indulged in on skis is that known as ski-joring. For this it is necessary to secure the co-operation of a horse, and fit him with long reins or ropes, which you hold one in each hand, and stand behind the horse out of the way of his heels. He is lightly harnessed, and from his collar passes a long leather loop of rein, which passes round the ski-jorer’s body. You then encourage your horse to proceed, and if he is good enough to do so, he will naturally pull you along on your skis by this loop of rein from his collar. It is a fascinating pursuit to watch, and can be practised over a frozen lake or along the down-trodden snow of roads. Especially in the Engadine you will hear the sound of bells, and observe a horse trotting or cantering briskly on the road, followed at a yard or two distance by an upright figure that glides along after him, a charioteer with only his skis as chariot. But though it is concerned with skis, it is not exactly concerned with ski-ing, which enters into it, as an art, less than does the knowledge of horses and the use of reins.

SKI-JORINGFrom the Drawing by Fleming Williams

SKI-JORING

From the Drawing by Fleming Williams

Plate XXXIVAT ST. MORITZ

Plate XXXIV

AT ST. MORITZ

Plate XXXVPRACTICE SLOPES, MONTANA, SWITZERLAND

Plate XXXV

PRACTICE SLOPES, MONTANA, SWITZERLAND

Plate XXXVIA SLIGHT MISHAP

Plate XXXVI

A SLIGHT MISHAP

Plate XXXVIISKI-JUMPING

Plate XXXVII

SKI-JUMPING

Plate XXXVIIISKI-JUMPING, MONTANA, SWITZERLAND

Plate XXXVIII

SKI-JUMPING, MONTANA, SWITZERLAND

Plate XXXIXVETERANS OF THE ST. MORITZ SKI CLUB

Plate XXXIX

VETERANS OF THE ST. MORITZ SKI CLUB

Oflate years the number of the English and other nations who annually go to spend a portion at any rate of the winter at some High Alpine resort has enormously increased, and in consequence every year fresh hotels are opened in valleys which hitherto have hybernated like dormice beneath their snow-laden roofs, during the months of short days. But it is by no means every high-perched hotel that is suitable as a centre for winter sports, for there are several conditions to be considered. In the first place, such a spot must be sufficiently high up to make it probable that there will be fairly continuous frosts there throughout the winter, and this again depends not only on height but also on aspect. As regards height you cannot reasonably depend on getting this continuity of frost (allowing for reasonable breaks) under the height of round about 4000 feet, especially if the place in question is to enjoy long hours of sun. True, an exceptionally severe winter may come, and the strictness of the binding of the frost may hold, week after week, at a much lower altitude, but it is natural that the holiday-maker, who has only a week or two abroad and wants during all his hours of daylight to be employed in sliding movements, should wish to be fairly safe to find the conditions suitable, and he has, obviously, a better chance of finding themif he goes high. But there are several places considerably below this 4000-foot level, such as Grindelwald, which lies in a very cold valley, where he may in an average year find himself unhampered and rendered idle by thaws, and it is wonderful how continuous frost is at Grindelwald. But there both skating-rink and curling-rink are, all day long at midwinter, entirely in the shade, for the sun does not rise high enough at noon to look over the great barrier of rock that lies to the south of it. That protection, of course, preserves for the place its excellent ice, whereas if, as at other winter resorts, it basked in the sun all day, the rink would speedily be metamorphosed into a degraded glue with discouraging pools interspersed. But if you go to greater heights, you can combine the pleasures of skating with those of sitting in the sun, and that to this writer is a remarkably charming combination. But in order to enjoy that you must have greater height than is possessed by Grindelwald, and a place like Montana, where the sun is on the rink by nine in the morning, and continues to beat down on it till somewhere about five in the afternoon, would see its ice and snow disappear into slush and torrents of water were it not perched nearly 5000 feet above sea-level. St. Moritz and Mürren are throned higher yet, and it has to be a very warm winter indeed which will cause a general thaw at such places. And there is nothing more irritating than to have gone to some comparatively low place and find that day after day goes by in melting mood, and at the same time to know that a thousand feet higher up ideal conditions are being experienced.

The skier naturally is less dependent on the altitude of hisvillage, provided that there are high hills abounding in suitable slopes round him. It is part of the essence of his sport that he climbs for it, whereas skaters and curlers demand their playgrounds at the door and no climbing at all. Thus the high valley leading across from Montreux in the Rhone valley to Spiez by the Lake of Thun is, though its highest villages and hotels are below 4000 feet, ideal for the skier, since it has on each side of it lofty hills which are rich in good slopes. But for the others, skaters, curlers, and tobogganers alike, it is important that the frost should hold in the immediate vicinity of their hotels. They do not seek their various joys on the tops of neighbouring mountains.

Now this question of sun is, of course, a personal one, and the popularity of Grindelwald shows that there are multitudes of folk who do not mind skating and curling in the shade. For them, then, that is all right, but if you happen to like skating and curling in a blaze of sun, you will be wise to go somewhere not below the 4000-foot level. Even there, of course, you cannot be safe against thaws, and the deplorable series of days known as the winter of 1911-1912, when thaw succeeded thaw at almost all Swiss resorts, taught us all that the malice of climate is infinite and incalculable, and the summer of 1912, here in England, where the general temperature was about the same as that of the previous winter in Switzerland, repeated the same lesson. But in the average year winter places over 4000 feet in height can be trusted to let the visitor enjoy sunshine and hard frost together.

A second consideration is wind. It would be no use at all to spend the winter on a mountain-top: what is necessaryis a high sheltered valley, like that of Davos or St. Moritz, or a high sheltered shelf on the mountain-side, like Villars or Mürren. To be able to skate at all, it is necessary that the day should be practically windless, and quite a gentle breeze spoils it altogether. Moreover, even gentle breezes are currents of moving air above or below freezing-point. If they are above freezing-point they spell ruin, for they melt both snow and ice with amazing swiftness; if they are below freezing-point they feel quite intolerably cold. Therefore, all winter places should be screened from the wind on the north and east, so that, if such airs are astir, they pass over the valley in which you are, and their icy blasts are unfelt. It does not matter so much whether the valley is screened from southerly winds, for this blowing of a southerly wind means in itself that warm currents of air are coming up from the Mediterranean, and as long as that lasts there must be more or less of a thaw, and a screen to the south almost necessarily implies a cutting off of the sun. This southerly wind, so justly abhorred by all altitudinists, is generally known as theföhnwind. Philologists may try to interest us in it by telling us that the word is derived from the Latinfavonius, or south wind, but when theföhnblows you are not the least consoled by knowing its derivation: you only wish it had another destination. It brings clouds, mists, sleet, and even rain, all undesirable aliens, into our sunny valleys.

So much, then, for the two main conditions—sun (for those who like it) and absence of wind for everybody. And the next prime essential is a good rink, for out of every hundred people whocome out in the winter, it is safe to say that at least eighty either skate or curl. And not only is a good skating-rink necessary, but good skaters also, for the encouragement and instruction of the learner, and, we may add, the mutual admiration of each other. But it is extraordinary how a good rink seems to breed skaters: sooner or later (usually sooner) good skaters are attracted to it, like flies to honey, though we hope they do not stick in it, and other mere beginners rapidly develop into sound performers. The Davos rink developed skaters thus, and more recently the immense rink at Villars has brought to birth a whole fresh school of English skating. The writer is tempted to be anecdotal. Not more than six or seven years ago he first went there and found that the only skating-rink was one flooded lawn-tennis court. On it the most accomplished skater in the place was instructing and demonstrating to two pupils. She was showing them the change of edge, and as, perhaps a little falteringly, she passed from one edge to the other she proclaimed: “The change from the outside edge to the inside is possible, but the change from the inside to the outside is impossible.” Indeed that would save an infinity of trouble to many of us, if we thought it was strictly true. But Villars made up its mind otherwise, and nowadays the great rink, which would hold hundreds of lawn-tennis courts, holds hundreds of skaters also who demonstrate the falsity of that sublime pronouncement.

Now ice varies enormously, not only in smoothness or roughness of surface, but in texture and in hardness, and without doubt the pleasantest and at the same time the easiest ice to skate onis that which has been frozen at temperatures not unreasonably low. Should the thermometer have stood all night at zero or below, the ice made under that benumbing influence will be both very hard and rather brittle; whereas if the rink had basked in a mellow moonlight of say 10 or 15 degrees of frost, the ice, though perfectly solid and dry, will be far kinder to the skate blade and lend itself more amenably to the edges. Indeed, after a very cold night, the ice is absolutely unskateable on until the sun has relaxed its adamantine rigidity; the edges of the skate will not bite. This appears to be due to the amazing fact, not generally known, that the skate actually moves over a thin layer of water, which its passage, its weight and friction causes to be momentarily produced. This transient, minute and local thaw (which instantaneously ceases in the wake of the skate) does not take place when the temperature is abnormally cold, and, in consequence, the skate, instead of travelling smoothly and firmly, cannot be prevented from skidding on the marble-like and uncuttable surface, and even when the sun has to some extent mitigated this hardness, the ice tends to be brittle and unkind. Thus, since in very high places there are recorded a large number of very low temperatures, the skater will probably find pleasanter ice at lower altitudes. Much, of course, depends on the making of it, and the whole question perhaps may be regarded as trifling, but in the writer’s opinion the resorts at which, as a rule, very low temperatures do not occur, yield the greatest abundance of jolly ice. On the other hand, the higher the place, the greater is the probability of immunity from thaws.

So much, then, for the more technical considerations. But however absorbed we may be in our inwicks, our Telemarks, our brackets, there are still moments when we happen to look up and regard and appreciate our surroundings. In fact, though we do not go out to Switzerland primarily for the sake of the view, the natural beauty of the places we go to make, even to the sternest and most determined athlete, a certain appeal. And though every place alike has the witchery and magic with which the radiant frost clothes peak and mountain-side, there are four places, three of which are set on high shelves on the mountain-side facing south, which, to my mind, altogether outshine the rest, and these are Mürren, Montana, Grindelwald and Villars. Of Mürren mention has already been made in the first chapter of this book, but those who have seen it only in summer have no idea of the incomparable majesty of the huge outspread panorama of the Oberland when the winter suns shine on the winter snows. Nowhere else in all Switzerland is there to be had so near and unimpeded a view of so great a stretch of big mountains. Eiger and Monch and Jungfrau and Silberhorn, and the amazing precipice of the Ebnefluh are all spread out immediately in front, with only the narrow valley of Lauterbrunnen interposed between you and them. Their size and nobility of form when thus seen close at hand is almost overwhelming: almost you join in the worship of the mountains and hills that so visibly are praising the Lord.

Utterly different, yet in its way no less sublime, is the immense panorama of big peaks as seen from Montana. Here again(though perhaps, strictly speaking, you are in the Rhone valley) there is no impression of being in a valley at all, so lofty is the shelf on which Montana stands, so swiftly the ground plunges into the Rhone valley proper below. But this is no narrow cleft as at Mürren, and the hills that climb out of it on the further or southern side are miles away. But what a row of glistening giants is piled up on those hills. The kings and captains of all the Zermatt ranges soar skywards against the incredible blue, Weisshorn, Roth-horn, Dent Blanche, Gabelhorn, Matterhorn are standing in their immemorial stations, and in the west Mont Blanc, with its guard of arrow-headed aiguilles, looks down over France and Switzerland. Nowhere else, unless you climb the inhospitable peaks themselves, shall you enjoy so immense a range of vision that contains so many giants of the mountain world.

Utterly different again is the quality of the view at Grindelwald. Unlike these other eyries Grindelwald is tucked away at the head of a valley, and immediately above it rise the appalling presences of the mountains. High and menacing above it climb the sheer walls of the Eiger, not those sunny crags that face towards Mürren, but the black and sunless precipices of the north and east. Further away are spread the snows of the Wetterhorn, and the precipice to the north of it, over which the wicked avalanches pour and thunder; while over the ridge just to the south of the hotels the Finster-Aarhorn points its single pinnacle to the sky. But there, long after the sun has set to the valley, Wetterhorn burns in rosy flame, and the Finster-Aarhorn is incandescent above the black night-beleaguered slopes. But splendid as arethese overhanging walls of rock, there is something to my mind of imminence and threat about them. They are crushing.

Villars, again, in the Rhone valley, is neither of the type of Mürren nor Grindelwald: it is of the Montana class, though with less austerity. It lies among pine woods and gentle slopes, and its high southern-facing shelf has a wonderful charm and amenity. Below it the hillside tumbles swiftly away into the Rhone valley, and opposite is spread an entrancing panorama. The Dent du Midi, one of the most distinguished of mountain-forms, dominates the nearer distance; behind, much closer than at Montana, rise the prodigious aiguilles of Mont Blanc. If you walk but for ten minutes either up or down from Villars towards the east, a gap opens out, and you shall see the most part of the Chamounix range, and the vast dome of Mont Blanc itself. Magical are the wonders of cloudland spread out before you in the Rhone valley below. Sometimes an ocean of cloud, solid as if made of grey marble, and to all appearance as level as the sea, is spread from the promontories a little below where Villars stands straight across to the hills on the far side of the valley. It seems as if some cloud-boat would put out from behind a cape opposite and glide across this grey sea. Or again, the valley will be full of cloud in form of breaking waves, and tossing crests throw themselves against the hillsides and are shattered into wreaths of cloud-spray. No boat could live in so turbulent a water. Then, as the sun declines to its setting, rosy beams of fire pierce this wonderful sea, and it is shot with flame, and lit from within by a glow that baffles all language. On another day and for many days together nota speck of mist or shred of cloud hangs above the valley, and it is mapped out at your feet 2000 feet down and half a dozen miles away with the clearness of etching. And sometimes, I am sorry to say, when the weather is behaving morosely, the cloud comes up from the valley and envelops Villars itself. Then we take our skis or toboggan and flee up the hillsides through the pine-woods, all encrusted with the miracle of hoar-frost, into the unobscured sunshine that lies like a benediction on the heights of the dazzling Chamossaire.

Switzerland, as regards its winter resorts, may be broadly divided into districts, such as the Engadine, the Oberland, the Rhone valley, and the strip of country between Montreux on the Lake of Geneva, and Spiez on the Lake of Thun, and pride of place must certainly be given to the Engadine and Davos, which are the cradle of winter sports. And the following are (at present) the chief hill-stations, with the sports for which they are famous.

(i)St. Moritz.—This is the highest and probably the most populous of winter resorts. It is situated 6090 feet above sea-level, and is eminent for its rinks and toboggan-runs; namely, the Cresta or ice-run, spoken of already at length, the bob-run, and the village-run for luges. Rinks both for skating and curling are numerous, and below the town lies the St. Moritz lake, and further off towards the Maloja pass the Sils lake. The bandy-rink is one of the largest rinks in Switzerland; bandy is played here every day, and numerous skating contests are held. Owing to its height, the winter weather, as a rule, lasts here till well intoMarch: indeed it is not till March that the big events happen on the Cresta.

Round about St. Moritz are other smaller winter resorts: Celerina, with a fine skating-rink, lies a little below the end of the Cresta run, and further down, towards Chur, is Samaden. In the other directions, towards the Maloja pass down into Italy, is Campfer, with rink and greater length of sun than even at St. Moritz, from which it is distant about a mile and a half. The ski-ing also is much better there than at that place. St. Moritz and all these other smaller centres are fortunate in the number of hours of sun that they enjoy: they are less fortunate in the wind that rather frequently blows up from the Maloja pass, a chilly and disconcerting current of air that not very infrequently starts to blow shortly after mid-day. But there is probably no place in Switzerland which enjoys a larger proportion of perfect winter days, and in none are the rinks more carefully made and preserved. It was one of the earliest places in which the pursuit of winter sport began to develop, and from the earliest days the St. Moritz school of English skating was renowned for the strictness of its requirements. Of late years the International style has greatly developed there, owing probably to the very large number of German visitors who annually go there. But there is enough ice for everybody, since many of the hotels have private skating-rinks of their own, and there is no reason why the two schools should not flourish side by side. Just round about St. Moritz itself there is not any very extraordinary display of Alpine scenery, for the larger peaks are not visible therefrom. But thereare, in addition to the winter sports already mentioned, innumerable excursions to be made, and the lake-skating, when the chronology of snow-fall and frost is propitious, is a tremendous though usually a short-lived attraction. The journey from England can be luxuriously made in the Engadine express, which reaches St. Moritz in the middle of the day after which the voyager has left London.

(ii)Davos, in an adjoining valley, is now closely linked up to St. Moritz by train, so that it is accessible from it without a long detour by rail, or by crossing on sleighs the Fluela pass. It is rather over 5100 feet above sea-level, and, as already recorded, was probably the earliest place at which an attempt was made, by Mr. John Addington Symonds and a few friends, to construct an artificial ice-rink. This they did by industriously working the handle of a pump which stood in a meadow. Davos was originally known to the world as a resort for consumptives and the place where the open-air treatment was first scientifically adopted. There are to-day many sanatoriums for patients there, and readers of this essay may have heard of a false and wicked report that in consequence the whole native population is now riddled with consumption, and that there is a certain risk in staying there. No more absurdly malicious and unfounded statement could be made, and there is probably far more risk of catching consumption by walking down a London street than in staying at Davos. For since the dry cold of this wonderful valley is fatal to the bacillus, it is hard to see how it could be supposed to spread! In addition, to ensure a double security, the moststringent regulations are enforced and every requirement of hygiene insisted on. Visitors, therefore, can go to Davos with precisely the same security as to any other place.

Davos is excellent alike for its rinks, its ski-ing slopes, and its toboggan-runs. Of the latter there is the excellent Klosters road for luges and skeletons, which leads from the hills above Davos down to the village of Klosters, where tobogganists find a train neatly drawn up close to the end of their run, in which they can return to Davos, if they will, or to Wolfgang again to make another descent. For this is no affair of a few hundred yards: the course is several miles in length. Lately a first-rate bob-run has been constructed from the Schatz-alp down into Davos: this is served by an electric railway for the ascent. Just below Davos, on the level land at the basin of the valley, lie the skating-rinks, three in number, an enormous public rink, the rink constructed by the English for purposes of English skating, and the curling-rink. Here all manner of important competitions are held: European championships in the International style, speed skating competitions round the circumference of the large rink, and for English skaters the annual Davos bowl. Indeed, Davos has had more to do with the formation of the modern school of English skating, especially in the matter of combined figures, executed large and fast, than any other place, and there is scarcely a single skater of any eminence in this style who has not “studied,” so to speak, at Davos. Usually the ice is of very good quality, but a better surface would probably be more often attained if the management would resort to sprinkling more, instead of letting aflood make ice for several days’ use. Above the town is a lake of considerable extent, on which occasional skating can be had. But a commoner phenomenon than the skater on that lake are the horse-drawn sledges which are loaded with solid blocks of ice sawn out of the frozen surface and taken away to make puddings with instead of figures on. The valley is gloriously free from wind, and extraordinarily healthy with its very dry cold air and abundance of sun.

(iii) Between Chur and St. Moritz lies a high upland valley some 4800 feet above sea-level, and reached from Chur by a drive of some twelve miles, which, however, include 3000 feet of ascent. Here is situated Lenzenheide, one of the new winter resorts opened by the Public Schools Winter Sports Club, which is responsible for so much of the increased sporting population of Switzerland in winter, and has developed many fresh and suitable centres. There is a good skating-rink, curling-rink, a toboggan-run, and unlimited expeditions for skiers on country admirably adapted for the sport. Like Davos, it lies in a very sheltered valley, and is singularly free from wind. It is a four and a half hours’ sleigh-drive to Chur, while St. Moritz is two hours distant.

(i) First among the Oberland resorts, by virtue of its age and established attractions, must be mentioned Grindelwald. It is one of the lower winter centres, but, as has already been mentioned, the limitation is largely discounted from the point of view of skaters and curlers, because the rinks duringthe months of mid-winter lie practically entirely in the shade, and thus preserve their solidity. And if Davos and St. Moritz must be called the cradle of English skating, Grindelwald has no less earned the title of cradle of scientific ice-making. For years the Boss family, who own the Bear Hotel, have studied this intricate and delicate question, and their methods are beyond doubt productive of the best possible ice. Grindelwald, it is true, is not liable to exceedingly low temperatures, and thus the ice does not often become of that very hard and brittle quality which results therefrom; but, though the Bosses have not had to contrive how to deal with these unpleasant conditions, they must be considered the parents of the school of scientific ice-production. Originally Grindelwald was exclusively of the English school of skating, but it has now passed into International tutelage. Indeed there was hardly room for two schools; for excellent as is the quality of the ice, it is certainly defective in area, and the rinks should be increased in size or number, for even the Bear rink, which is the largest there, is but of very moderate extent, and cannot hold many skaters in comfort. There are curling-rinks of the same superlative quality of ice, good road toboggan-runs, both for luges and the bob-sleigh, while in every direction almost (except that of the Eiger precipice) there are admirable ski-ing runs. It is situated 3450 feet above sea-level, and is reached by a light railway from Interlaken.

(ii) But if instead of taking that portion of the train from Interlaken that branches off to the left up to Grindelwald, the voyager disposes himself otherwise, he will be carried straight upthe Lauterbrunnen valley, until he arrives at that village. On the right the incredible funicular ascends to Mürren, while a cog-line, lying in loops and curves up the hillside to the left, brings him to Wengen, which, like Mürren, has lately been opened up as a winter resort by the Public Schools Alpine Sports Club. It faces the Eiger, the Monch, and the northern and precipitous face of the Jungfrau, and is admirably sheltered from the north and east. It stands about 4500 feet above sea-level, basks for a long day in the sun, and is excellently equipped in the way of rinks for skating and curling. There are two rinks, one about 8000 square metres in extent, the other half that size. Here, as at Grindelwald, the International style “hath the pre-eminence.” The cog-railway by which the village of Wengen is reached continues up the Wengern Alp, where are excellent ski-ing slopes, and you can take a lift, instead of climbing, up towards the Scheidegg, from which the skier can descend to Grindelwald. Wengen was opened originally for the winter season in the years 1909-1910, and has already grown enormously in popularity.

(iii) Opposite Wengen (or rather a little further south) and on the other side of the Lauterbrunnen valley, stands Mürren, at an altitude of 5500 feet, 1000 feet higher than Wengen. It has only been opened lately as a Swiss winter resort, and is blest with many natural and artificial excellences. A curling-rink adjoins the large skating-rink, and the ice, made in the “Boss method,” is wonderfully good. Here the Continental and English skaters may be seen side by side, and the two schools flourish, as is reasonable, without the smallest friction. For the skierthere are any amount of expeditions, and the very large extent and variety of the northern slopes above Mürren, combined with its height, render it safe even in bad winters from continued thaws: it owns also (for the more daring) one of the best jumps in Switzerland. This year (1912) the railway has been continued to the top of the Allmendhubel, from where a bob-sleigh run will start, and will give skiers a lift to the upper snows. The inter-university ice-hockey match has for the last three years been played here. Apart from its excellent faculties for sport, it is a place of unrivalled natural beauty ... but perhaps you have heard enough about the view. It is excellently shielded from the northerly winds, and its height, as in the case of Davos and St. Moritz, gives it a reasonable chance of immunity from thaw.

(iv) On the other and northern side of the Lake of Thun, and looking across the lake and the Interlaken valley straight at the Monch and Jungfrau (I am sorry to introduce this lady and gentleman again, but they cannot help dominating Oberland resorts) stands Beatenberg. It lies below the 4000-foot level, being only 3750 feet above sea-level, and in a warm winter (like that of 1911-1912) has the penalties of its day-long sun rigorously exacted from it. For the skier there are admirable runs above it on the Amisbühl, and there are good skating and curling rinks, and an artificial toboggan-run. But Beatenberg is distinctly a place to be visited insevereweather, in which the conditions there are ideal. But from its comparatively low altitude and its enormous abundance of sun, it must necessarily be among the places that soonest feel a thaw. It is an exceedingly picturesque village,and the lake below and the Oberland beyond make a charming panorama. It is within an easy sleigh-drive from Interlaken.

Slightly away from the Oberland lie two other attractive resorts—Kandersteg and Adelboden. Of these Adelboden is reached by a short train transit from Spiez on the Lake of Thun, followed by a sleigh-drive. It is essentially one of the high valley places, as opposed to the high “shelf” villages like Mürren and Wengen, and has admirable ski-ing expeditions to be made from it. The skating to be obtained there is not of the best; it has not “caught on” as a skating centre, and the rinks, when last the writer was there, were not up to the mark of that which the skater who goes to Switzerland for the sake of skating is entitled to expect. Skaters, for some reason, have not been enticed there, and thus that inter-breeding of good skaters and good rinks seems not to have taken place. But it lies in a high valley, the altitude being about 4500 feet, and both tobogganing and bobbing are catered for. Undoubtedly it is charming in situation, as all these upland valleys are, but, apart from the ski-ing expeditions which can be made from it, it does not boast any special attraction.

Kandersteg is approached also from Spiez, and lies high on a valley base leading to the Gemmi pass. It is lower than Adelboden, being only 3800 feet above sea-level, but is capable of extreme frigidities, since it lies in a northward sloping valley. But though it has been opened to winter sports only six or seven years, it is already a sort of Mecca for curling, and for the curler it is already a classical name. For the last eight years there has been instituted an International Bonspiel for curling, in which Scottish,English, Canadian, and Swiss teams have taken part, and out of these eight annual events the contest has been held four times at Kandersteg. Indeed the curler who has not been there, excellent though his prowess may be, has got his Swiss St. Andrews to go to, and there is probably no place that has had so many different nationalities so often intent on winning a cup as Kandersteg. On the first occasion of the institution of this bonspiel, twenty-eight rinks were competing, and all curlers who have been there will acknowledge “the atmosphere” that surrounds it. At the approach of the bonspiel a holy hush dominates the valley. Curling is in the air, and the great event obscures all other interests. A skater of the highest eminence might make his appearance, a skier who could negotiate the most incredible jumps, a tobogganer who could ride the Cresta backwards might be announced, but all these masters of their craft would be looked on as amiable aliens if the bonspiel was at all imminent. At such a time there is no talk but of curling. The immediate ski-ing is not very good, but there are excellent long excursions.

This line from Spiez terminates at Zsweisimmen, and at Zsweisimmen begins a light mountain railway which traverses the upland valley southwards, and debouches at Montreux on the Lake of Geneva. This valley itself is of an average height of between 3000 and 4000 feet, but on either side of it are lines of hills of considerably greater altitudes, which abound in admirable ski-ing slopes. Zsweisimmen, Saanan, and Gstaad are all first-rate centres of the sport, and there is skating and tobogganing, including bob-sleighing, to be had. But theclouof all theseplaces is the ski-ing, which is excellent both in quantity and quality.

Further on towards Montreux stands Château d’Oex, an exceedingly charming little place with a good skating-rink. It is not more than 3200 feet above sea-level, and thus the visitor cannot expect the greater security in the matter of frost that the higher places afford, but the ice there is often excellent, and in an average cold winter his enjoyment of it should be uninterrupted. After that the line passes through Les Avants, which is about the same height as Château d’Oex. Here there is a rink, and facilities for tobogganing and bobbing. Finally, at the level of about 3600 feet, Caux, with its palace of a hotel, overlooks the lake itself, much in the manner that Beatenberg overlooks the Lake of Thun.

We are now on the Lake of Geneva, at the upper end of which begins the Rhone valley, which extends right away up to the Simplon pass and the tunnel into Italy. Here are situated three winter resorts, opened and controlled by the Public Schools Winter Sports Club, and a hill-station called Leysin, which, however, in the main, is a place of out-door cure and sun for invalids. These other winter-sport centres are Montana, Villars, and Morgins.

Of these Morgins lies on the south side of the Rhone, at a height of 4600 feet, and is in a well-sheltered basin. A light railway goes up from Aigle to a small village called Trois Torrents, from which Morgins is reached by a sleigh-drive. It is surrounded by excellent ski-ing slopes, and there are good expeditions to be made. This year (1912-1913) it has also started into ardent activity as anucleus of skating in the English style, and has a very fine rink of about 10,000 square metres. Lying as it does on northern slopes (since it is on the south side of the valley), it is far colder than places of corresponding height facing south, and thus in the matter of the permanence of its ice and snow. At mid-winter the hours of sun are rather short, about four.

Opposite, on the north side of the Rhone, stands Villars, on a shelf of the mountain-side rather than in a valley. It is reached by a mountain-railway from Bex on the main line, and has an altitude of 4200 feet. Climatically it is absolutely ideal in a decently cold winter, and the big hills which shield it to the north and east afford several very good ski-ing expeditions. It has not, however, from a skier’s point of view, the limitless scope of Davos, and it is in the main as a centre of English skating that it has become so popular and widely known. The rink is in extent second only to the public rink at Davos, being about 17,000 metres in extent, and is maintained on the principles of ice-making which have come from Grindelwald. But at Villars the whole expanse of the rink lies in the blaze of the sun, and, as at Davos, there is a restaurant immediately adjoining. Of this big ice-surface a certain part, of adequate size for practice and combined figures, is reserved for those who have passed the National Skating Association’s Third Test, or the lower of the two Villars tests. This, then, forms a club-rink for English skating, which is the only school that at present exists at Villars. There, rink and skating alike have quickly grown big from the small beginnings of some seven years ago, and annually a large number of good skaters spend a monththere. Elsewhere on the rink is a strip reserved for curlers, who have also another small private rink. For tobogganers there is provided both an artificial snow-run for the use of luges, and for skeletons a very good ice-run, not, indeed, of the arduousness of the Cresta, but fast and well banked. In addition bob-sleighing can be had on the mountain-track up to La Bretaye, and there are the usual suitable slopes for luges. The place has now been open some eight years, and yearly the four big hotels are crowded with visitors. Nor is this to be wondered at, for, apart from the excellence of its provisions for all manner of winter sports, Villars, set in its pine-woods and faced by the splendid open view across the valley, is possessed of an extraordinary charm of situation and natural beauty.

On a similar northern shelf of mountain, but higher up the Rhone valley, and also higher up in the air, stands Montana. It is reached by an amazing funicular from Sierre, and is 4900 feet above sea-level. Behind and above it and around it stretch limitless ski-ing slopes, and there are any amount of expeditions to be made from it. There are two good rinks: one for curlers, another for skaters; and after a considerable period of Laodicean apathy, Montana seems to have made up its mind to be of the English school. But up till lately it had put its chief energies into ski-ing and curling, and had not pursued skating in that tense and scientific spirit which it deserves. There is a fairly good artificial ice-run for toboggans, and another snow-run down valleywards, and plenty of those quiet, hard-trodden paths down which the amateur tobogganer likes to ramble. There are twolakes which, when the snow has made an agreeable arrangement with the frost, can be used for skating, and in summer, when the sun has come to an understanding with the snow, a fine golf-course is found to reveal itself. But all winter long the sun blazes on Montana, while its altitude and the cold of its nights preserves its frozen mantle. Of the view I have already spoken: there is something to be said for a view in the intervals of falling-down, and in the meditation and quiescence which such falls sometimes entail.

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