medical supplies, our doughty ski champions had not been able 

 to maintain balance. Nor could they shift direction readily in 

 the forests of stunted spruce. Spills were frequent, with loads 

 strewn across the snow. 



This experience was enough to convince me that, although 

 skis may be fine for a few swoops downhill, they are utterly 

 worthless as transportation. 



Let's document this claim. The organization which oversees 

 more snow-covered terrain than any other on the North Ameri- 

 can continent is the famous Royal Canadian Mounted Police. 

 Listen to Sergeant Howey of "G" Division, responsible for law 

 and order in the Arctic: 



"Skis are not used for our patrol work in the North. All 

 winter patrols are carried out by dog teams, and the members 

 of the force are equipped with snowshoes. When snow condi- 

 tions are adverse, the member has to break trail by snowshoeing 

 in front of the team." 



A pair of skis would not push aside enough snow to permit 

 a Pekinese to pass, much less a string of robust Huskies. Skis 

 are synthetic devices and their surface is narrow. Snowshoes, 

 by contrast, are molded after the pads which nature gave the 

 lynx and caribou. Their webbing is like a huge paw. 



A wayfarer toting his grub dares not rely on skis, for it is diffi- 

 cult to stay upright even with shoulders free. This anchors skiers 

 to lodges and inns. They rarely get into the real wilderness 

 because they cannot take food and shelter with them. 



A further example of the decadence of skiing is the vast assort- 

 ment of lifts, tows, drags, and escalators at virtually all ski resorts. 

 Every last breath of exercise is gone from the sport. Your skier 

 never actually sees the pageant of the solitudes in winter. He is 

 hoisted uphill in an armchair and glides back down on a pair 

 of planks. The majesty of the Sierras, the Rockies, or the Appala- 

 chians is to him a fuzzy blur of green and white. 



The snowshoer, on the other hand, moves at a leisurely but 

 dependable pace. He can watch Chinook fingerlings through the 

 glazed ice of a creek; he studies in fascination where elk have 

 "yarded" to stand off marauding wolves. He kneels to note the 



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