SKIING IN THE AUSTRIAN TYROL

Evening Star, Issue 21992, 30 March 1935, Page 24

SKIING IN THE AUSTRIAN TYROL

VISIT TO ST. ANTOH AM ARUERG RHODES SCHOLAR'S IMPRESSIONS [By J. E. Lovelock, New Zealand Rhodes Scholar, for the 4 I'lveniug Star.’] Even on a morning when the weather reports gave promise of an unusually bad channel crossing, the early boat train from Victoria Station, one of the two main termini of the Southern Railway in London, was crowded with a weird and interesting assortment of travellers. Alany languages could be heard, and many queer garbs seen; a big thick-set Gorman in full climbing kit with a huge, well-packed rnc sac on his hack, heavy mountaineering boots on his feet, and an alpine stock in his hand argued ineffectively in .broken English with the ticket collector at the entry gate; a smallish Frenchman, speaking almost perfect English, fared much bettor with his porter. Skis and rue sacs were being carried by hurrying latc-comers, though the wiser ones had already ridded themselves of their worst encumbrances by checking their skis through to their destination. For it was late .'January, the time when one can be sure of plenty of snow rt even the lowest of the Continental winter sports resorts, and many who had been deterred by the earlier mild weather abroad from faking their holiday at Christmas time were now hurrying out to Switzerland and the Austrian Tyrol to claim their share of what has justly been called the most thrilling of all sports.

An hour ami a-half train journey down to Newhaven passed rapidly. There, after passport formalities we boarded the little channel steamer to find when wo were out of the shelter of the land that the reports of the state of the sea had not been exaggerated. Not for nothing had the Croydon-Le Bourget air service been practically at a standstill for two days and the greater part of the channel shipping disorganised. Wo were really rather glad to land at Dieppe after one of the worst crossings that any of ns had ever experienced. Then came the two hours by train to Paris, the journey across from Garo St. Laganc to Gave de I’Fst, the wait for the trans-Continental night express, fdled in by dinner in a typical, delightfully comfortable little wine restaurant near the station; there we had arranged to meet a few friends from the Stado Francois Club who joined ns in what turned out to he an hilariously cheerful little party before they put us on our train to Vienna, leaving us to our long all-night journey on the crowded uncomfortable board seats of an overheated third-class compartment. There wo lounged and dozed on scats, floor, and luggage racks, from our departure from Paris at O.TA in the evening, till nnr arrival at 5.30 next morning at Basle, on the Swiss frontier. A nominal Customs examination and an hour of shunting round and rearrangement of the Austrian and Italian portions of the train preceded a five-hour journey across Switzerland to more Customs formalities at Bucho on the Austrian frontier. There at last we felt we were beginning to approach our goal—Sl. Anton am Arlbcrg, situated at a height of 1,000 feet on the Vienna side of the great Arlberg tunnel, only about two hours’ journey into Austria . In both these countries the whole railway system is electrified, huge smooth running electric: engines replacing the powerful but rough steamdrawn trains of the French lines. The scenery had changed greatly since the earlier hours of the morning, from the comparatively low hills amongst which wo had travelled in Northern Switzerland, with the higher peaks in the distance, from the frozen placidity of the lake at Zunich, to that typical of the Austrian Tyrol—rugged, precipitous, snow-clad mountains rising high above valleys wooded with spruce and pine; gaps in the continuity of the woods caused by old landslides or by more recent avalanches after a thaw ; little villages sheltering in the valleys showing up as black patches in the hollows of pure white unbroken snow; and up and down these valleys wound the railway line, sinuously following the streams, piercing by long tunnels the shoulders of hills that strutted out pr closed in the adjacent hollows.

St. Anton is a characteristic Austrian village, consisting of a few dozen largo wooden or plaster houses, with steeply sloping roofs and picturesquely carved fronts similar in design to the Bavarian cottages across the border in Germany, all clustered roughly round tho reddomed, wooden church. A short, steep main street, with two or throe hotels, cafes, and various little shops, carries on down tho valley in tho direction of Innsbruck and Vienna to the next similar village. On tho slope above the villagers tho railway station; in the bottom of the valley below is a little halffrozen stream. But what lifts St. Anton above all other similar Tyrolean villages is not its architecture nor its social life, for it is the home of Hannes Schneider, perhaps the greatest ski runner tho world has known. In his younger days he was regarded as invincible in cross-country (gelandc), in langlauf, and in downhill running. It was Jig who developed and perfected what has conic to be known as the Arlberg ski technique, characterised in straight running by the bent knee and crouched body to approximate the centre of gravity to the wider base of the slightly spread feet; and in turning by the use of the stem turn, chiefly the stemmed snow plough or schueo pflug bogen. This, unlike the pure Christiania and tho Telemark turns of Norway, and the upright stance of the older Swiss runners, can be used with greater safety and at higher speeds in any depth of loose, powdered snow, though even here the compromise of the linked Stem-Christiania is now used as tho fastest downhill turn in good snow. So great was his fame as a ski runner that men came from all parts of the world to sec him perform, and to learn his technique. Ho was oven summoned to tho Court of Japan by the Japanese Emperor to instruct his army in ski-ing. Standing on tho top of a hill with tho soldiers on the slopes below him, lie gave his commands to an interpreter, who passed them on to tho men by megaphone. Now lie has established the most famous ski school in tho world in his native village. Though ho himself neither races nor coaches any longer, for numerous accidents and broken bones have combined with advancing years to subdue his earlier activities. He is still tho uncrowned king of the Austrian Tyrol, exercising personal surveillance over every one of his several dozen _ instructors and their classes. And in these classes what a mixture of nationalities of all ages is to bo found. Most of the instructors speak English and French in addition to their native

Gorman, but that is not nearly enough, for here ono meets all races. With our party in ono class mere an Hungarian girl from Budapest, speaking fluent English, French, and German, a French girl from Paris with nothing but her own language to help her, a Swede from Stockholm, an excellent linguist, two Italians, one from Milan who conversed with us in English, with the instructor in German, and acted as interpreter for both his fellow-countryman from Trieste and the little Parisienne; in another class a party of French and Swiss were mixed up; a company of sixty Swedish Army officers had been sent from their own country to learn the Arlberg technique, while in the village one saw Mongolian features and even a dark Argentinian complexion; and at night, dancing or talking in the inns and cafes, one met English-speak-ing people from all parts of the world, the United States, and the dominions. So all nationalities from every country except Germany meet here in an attempt to master the art of controlling two thin slats of hickory wood which on the feet of an expert are capable of a downhill speed of nearly seventy miles an hour! Such is the attraction of speed and sport among these marvellous surroundings. Then followed days on the “ nursery slopes,” the more gentle declivities just above the village, trying desperately for four or five- hours a day to control those skis, to remain upright at all speeds, to turn and twist on the slippery slopes hy the adroit adjusting of weight and the correct bending of knees. So easy it looks when done by the practised ski-runner or even by the village children of seven or eight years; yet as incredibly difficult to imitate with anything approaching accuracy or consistency. On cold days with fast, hardfrozen snow, one was encouraged to persevere, despite the icy slipping on the hard surface; oh mild days with sticky, melting snow, or after a night of heavy fall with loose, knee-deep, powdery masses, despair and fatigue drove ouo to consider whether the struggle was really worth while. But the reward for the hard grind and Austrian “ strafing ” was the glorious joy and thrill of the long downhill “ schnss falirt ” at the end of the lesson, the beautiful easy flight traversing the slope, the frozen snow hissing its way up from the point of the gliding ski, the grace of the turn on the brow of the hill, and then last long run down to the level ground crouched low down over the flying tips, the weight well forward and the wind whistling past the tingling ears.

Still belter is the glorious fun of an afternoon’s expedition into the higher country—an hour’s climb by motor bus up the valley by winding frozen roads, with a sheer drop down into the stream on the left, while on the right rise ever steeper the snowy slopes, melting high above us into icy peaks—to leave the bus to make its own way back empty, while we, following our guideinstructor, climb a few hundred feet from the road, a slow and laborious climb jn loose snow, till we reach a point suitable for the start of our run back, down steep slopes, falling often, perhaps, swerving in among tne pine trees as we follow a winding path through the woods; snow-ploughing steadily down the steepest slopes, swift runs into smaller hollows, followed by short climbs on the opposite side, till wo again appear in an hour or two at the top of the home slopes, with the village lying below us. Again that last long stretch at full speed, faster and faster approaching the bottom, till we end up gliding quietly down the village street. And the thrill of the run is almost equalled bv the quiet joy of the well-caxmed hot bath, the laughing discussion, and reminiscences over the tea table in the smoky atmosphere of the low-ceilinged inn, with oddly-carved figures glinting strangely in the reflected light; and the stories and conversations in all languages that make up the daily sound in the cosmopolitan atmosphere of an Austrian ski-ing centre.

This cosmopolitanism is one of the chief pleasures of a stay in such a resort; it gives a splendid opportunity for the exchange of ideas on all topics — political, religious, travel, artistic, or literary—for the understandinf of the outlook of other nations, and for the practising and acquisition of fluency in those languages which one learns and yet finds.rusty from disuse. So, though we were perhaps a little sorry that we should be deprived of some days of active sport during our too short holiday, it was in other ways not altogether a matter for regret that during our last week at St. Anton we were visited by the worst snow storm that the Arlberg has had for over twenty years. It began with tho usual heavy leadencoloured clouds massing darkly on the tops up the vally to the west: the wind came up from the direction of Zurich: and the Swiss radio reports prepared the villages for the visit of a severe storm. But its advance guard gave little idea of what was ’to follow. First came ' light flaky snow, delightful to watch, pleasant to feel, and scarcely a hindrance to our enjoyment of the sport. But this was followed within twenty-four hours by freezing, wind-driven sleet that found its .way through all waterproof garments, turned the white snow into grey slush, rendering ski-ing impossible even to tho keenest and hardiest visitor. For two days we could scarcely leave the house, for even walking in the village street was far from pleasant. Tho tinio was spent in reading, writing, talking in inns; the evenings in tho dance halls; always waiting for tho weather to clear. Then came a short break; the snowy slush froze hard, and on top of it for three days fell more snow, thick and heavy; the temperature then rose almost to thawing point, and avalanches could be heard rumbling clown in the surrounding country. Even in our valley smaller slips of powder snow, starting in breaks on the wooded sides, came booming down with heavy white snow clouds rising up and masking their path. Tho stream was first blocked and diverted, the village forced to depend on candle light and deprived of radio; a little later the power house was destroyed with no chance of being repaired till tho summer; it was forbidden to leave tho village, except to ski in the nursery slopes, until tortyoight hours after the snow had ceased; the railway lines were blocked on all sides, isolating the different villages; alarming rumours came through of neighbouring resorts in serious straits, with avalanches crashing down into tho streets, rumours which fortunately failed in most eases to bear later inquiry. In time the_ lino was cleared so that it was possible to leave the district, but in one direction only, towards Innsbruck and Vienna to the cast. In order to go to Switzerland, France, England, or anywhere in the west, a fourteen-hour detour was necessary round Austria and Germany via Innsbruck, Worge, and Munich, back to Feldkirch, only a few miles on the western side of the Arlberg tunnel. Those who had already been delayed and had to hurry hack were only too glad to bo released in any direction, but those who stayed l on were rewarded by a return of the most glorious weather. Two days of scorching sun, with several feet of beautiful crisp powdered snow, made us almost forgot the preceding few days, and at least recompensed us for not being allowed to go

on expeditions further afield. "By that time the line to the west had been cleared of avalanches, so that on the approach of another storm wo left for England feeling that our holiday had been a marvellously full one, with a variety of experience that rarely comes to a winter’ sports resort.