Aug. 4, 1894.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
91 
" Forest and Stream's " Yellowstone 
Park Game Exploration. 
No. 
O. 
A Night March on the Skis. 
On the morning of Tuesday, March 27. we began our 
journey from the Fountain Basin to the Mammoth Hot 
Springs. We had found the snow too sticky during the 
last few days to warrant trying a long march in the day- 
learn that crusted snow takes an altogether different ski 
theory from soft snow. In the ordinary ski step the pole 
is helu with both hands, the outer end touching the snow 
at quite a distance from the feet. No great force is 
gained then, and the pole is used practically only for 
steadying the ski-goer in his stride — and a wonderful help 
it is, too. On crust matters are quite different, and the 
inexperienced one finds himself straining and laboring 
where all ought to be easy sliding. If the inexperienced 
one will grasp his ski. pole in one hand, and setting the 
end in the snow close in by his feet, push forward with it 
in the line of travel at every step, he will find a vast im- 
provement in his progress. One can take a staff and push 
himself forward on skates upon 
the ice, and thai principle is the 
^g^————^^ same with the skis on crusted 
snow. Given a smooth, hard 
crust, with no " ash snow " 
blown across it, and the ski 
traveler should make his best 
time, because the shove from 
his arm on the staff gives him 
an impetus which lengthens 
each step a number of inches, 
and it is the 
ski beyond 
. which makes 
His step 
more like 
added slide of the 
the natural step 
time in traveling, 
thus becomes much 
a skating step, and he 
"ON THE HUMP." 
Photo by Polsom. 
time, so we resolved to make the forty miles in two 
journeys of twenty miles each, making the half-way stop 
at Norris station, and traveling both stages as much as 
possible during the night time, when the shoeing would 
be easier. 
We had little sleep the night before we left the com- 
fortable quarters of the Fountain Hotel, for we arranged 
to have John Schmidt call us at midnight. I hardly 
believe any of us needed much awakening, for John 
Schmidt's dog had kept us all awake in his nightly pas- 
time of barking at the wolves and foxes. I was sorry to 
leave John Schmidt who 
had shown himself cheer- 
ful and expert in making 
us comfortable, but I was 
glad to be separated from 
John Schmidt's dog and 
his reverberant and redun- 
d a n t voice. Anyhow, 
Schmidt and his dog got 
us out of bed at 12 o'clock 
midnight of the blackest 
sort of night that ever fell 
on the mountains. We 
ate breakfast at 12 :15 A. M. , 
and having our packs al- 
ready pretty well arranged 
we had our skis in order 
and were outside the 
kitchen at 1 A.M., in an 
air quite keen and shivery. 
An obscuring sort of 
white, misty darkness 
seemed to prevail in the 
midst of the black dark- 
ness. This was caused by 
the reflection from the 
snow. It was a black 
night in a white country. We said good-bye to Schmidt, 
and his dog eloquently bade us farewell as we turned our 
toes to the northward. Then each gave a push with his 
pole, and on the instant disappeared down the great icy 
drift which sloped from the hotel down to the level of the 
valley. As we slipped ahead the dark ring of the pines 
which encircled the hotel became plainer, and in a 
moment we had slid through and were out in the little 
open plain which lies between the hotel and the patrol 
station, out of which one or two hot springs bubble up. 
All around us was a baffling, puzzling, impenetrable veil 
of gray, through which we could see only a 
short distance about us. The short night was at 
its very darkest, and for a time the outlines of 
the peaks and forests about us and ahead of us 
were indistinguishable. 
Saw a Bear in the Night. 
The Fountain Hotel is always a great place 
for bears in the summer time, numbers of those 
animals being attracted by the offal pits. Our 
trail lay not very far from one of the stamping 
grounds of these familiar and impudent beasts, 
though we had no thought of any bear being 
out so early at that season of the year. One old 
fellow, however, it seems, was making an early 
Bpring reconnoissance that morning. Larsen 
first called my attention to him, just as we got 
to the foot of the little hotel hill and out into the 
open near the hot spring. Billy was off to the 
left, trying to pick out a trail through the trees, 
and did not see the bear, but Larsen must have 
been within 30 or 40yds. of him. In the gray 
fog of the night the creature seemed to loom up about as 
big as a court house. We left him holding down the 
Geyser Valley, as none of us wanted him. Larsen had his 
six-shooter, but Billy and I would have had a hard time 
getting a bear if we had been hungry, for we had only a 
butcher knife apiece. Besides, this bear was illegal. 
A New Lesson in Ski Work. 
The snow was crusted over hard and firm, so that we 
did not break through, and I found that I had still 
another lesson on the skis ahead of me. The skis slipped 
ahead all right, but they also slipped side wise with equal 
cheerfulness, and when I took a step forward with one 
shoe, the other would be going backward just as busily. 
It took rne a few moments to get the hang of this, and to 
moves on with an easy roll of 
his weight from one leg to the 
other, with less friction under 
his feet and with the added 
propelling power gained from 
the muscles of the arm. Crust 
going is the easiest of all for an 
expert and perhaps the hardest 
for a beginner. Until he learns 
the hang of it, the latter will 
rack and strain himself trying 
to keep up telegraphic commu- 
nication with his feet, which take to themselves the most 
surprising absences from their post of duty. 
What Makes a Good Walker. 
If one will take the trouble to observe the persons he 
sees walking on the streets, he may notice that the great 
majority walk with an up and down, straight back and 
forward motion. They do not advance the body alter- 
nately side and side, as Aunt Susan does when she carries 
in the basket of washing; from the laundry house. In 
other words, the majority of people will walk with a knee 
fife 
™ - TP 
A STAMPEDE IN^THEv, 1 ISNOW. 
■- — -i g • 
Photo by Kolsom. 
action instead of with a hip action. Yet no great walker 
can ever be found who walks with a knee action, and this 
any long distance pedestrian will tell you. Some horses 
are born with a pacing action, apparently, and some men 
have naturally that looseness of the hips which makes 
possible the easy rolling gait, the rapid long stride with- 
out effort or "over-stepping" which are present in the 
natural walker. If you will try this, rolling the body 
sidewise at each step, you will see that you can step 
further than when you face square to the front and stick 
your foot out square to the front. If you can do this hip 
ing of the weight from side to side is even more essential 
to get that coveted little gain slide at the end of each step. 
Your good ski-goer does not quicken his step when he 
wants more speed. He keeps his easy, steady swing, but 
increases his sliding stride, getting his added momentum 
out of the transfer of his weight and the push of his rear- 
ward foot, plus the push from his staff, whatever that 
may amount to. I often watched the loose- jointed, 
shambling, rolling, hip action of Larsen and Holte on the 
march, which was so noticeable that it sometimes looked 
like lameness. Yet both these boys were fine shoers, and 
their shambling gait was taking them easily forward, 
each step a little further than a straight ahead step would. 
A Toboggan-Slide in Curl Papers. 
I had plenty of time, or at least plenty of cause, to 
figure on some of the foregoing things as our night 
journey went on. Billy and Larsen, who just reveled in 
crust running, hit an awful gait, and I surely thought 
they would kill me before even we got across the Firehole 
River. At the end of the first mile I was in a reek of 
perspiration, though the temperature must have been near 
zero. About that time I hit on my theory, a.nd thence- 
forward I walked about as much with one arm as I did 
with both legs, and rejoiced exceedingly. I could not see 
the others more than 40yds. ahead of me out in the open, 
but when we g< it into the dense forest even this distance 
was cut down. Mile after mile, in that black, mysterious, 
unpromising mountain night* I swung on rhythmically, 
trying to keep the toe of my ski just at the rear edge of 
the slim, phosphorescent streak of light which came back 
from under Billy's shoes. This faint glow of the snow 
was quite pronounced, and could be seen at a distance of 
several yards, while the figure of the man ahead was only 
the dimmest of outlines. The effect of it is very weird 
and odd, and one of the main features of the night march, 
for we could for a long time see only the blackness of the 
shadowy forest about us, and the faint white reflection 
that hung close down along the surface of the snow. I 
give it up how Billy kept the trail, but I supposed he was 
a plenty good guide, and did not venture any advice as to 
which way any place or anything was, because I didn't 
know. There might be hills, forests, mountains, streams, 
in that country, but I couldn't see any of them and had 
to take it all for granted. I was sure I was walking in a 
wild, unreal dream. The forest was absolutely silent, and 
from on the trail ahead there came no sound (ski travelers 
do not talk, needing all their breath). Only the soft szit, 
s-zit of the whispering skis could be heard, and only 
' could be seen that uncanny fire that came out of the icy 
snow. Surely that must be a dream. 
Trusting to chance, it seemed to me, Billy turned aside 
from the trail and took a short cut across country, head- 
ing for some place that he knows more about than I do. 
We caught an awful climb in course of this cut off, and I 
presume we were half an hour getting up that one hill. 
I suppose I fell about fifty times getting up there, but I 
had plenty of company. Then we went ahead some 
more over some open, rough hills, and at last pulled up 
at the top of what appeared tome to be the bottomless 
pit. It was simply a black hole, down below us in the 
universe, and how deep or how big it was we certainly 
could not see from where we were. 
"This is the big 'S' hill. You'd better ride your pole 
here, old man," said Billy, soothingly, in that gentle, off- 
hand, try-to-be-unconscious tone of voice he always used 
when he knew a fellow was standing on the edge of an 
air-tight cinch for breaking his neck. Whereat, being 
on to Billy by this time, I groaned, and got my straps 
ready. 
"There's two or three pretty sharp turns in this hill," 
said Billy, deprecatingly, as if he had made the hill and 
wasn't quite suited with it, "but they might be worse, 
and you can ride your pole hard at the turns." So saying, 
Billy turned, stepped forward, and disappeared in the 
dark below like Mephistopheles, leaving a train of tire 
behind him for a brief instant as he flew. 
Turns in that hill! I should say there were, several of 
them. The only thing I can liken that hill to is a half 
mile of toboggan slide done up in curl papers. I don't 
see how they got all the turns in, and for my part am 
confident I skipped some Of them. Not knowing the trail 
in the least, all I could do was to get my skis in the tracks 
ahead and let go. Of course I could not tell when there 
was a bend ahead, but as I usually went end over end at 
the turns, I suppose I found a good many of them. I 
don't know why such falls don't kill a fellow, but they 
didn't seem to jar very much, and at last I rolled the last 
stretch of the spiral chute and emerged not much the 
worse for wear. I didn't consider it etiquette to ask the 
BUFFALO IN HAYDEN VALLEY. 
Photo by Haynes. 
step easily and keep it up, you will seem to be "walking 
all over," but you will be making time. If you can keep 
it up, you can beat any up and down, knee action walker, 
for your step will be longer than his and just as rapid. 
An acquaintance of mine, an ex-professional pedestrian 
who has done 110 miles in twenty-four hours, steps 36in. 
in his stride with perfect ease, and can keep it up. It is 
simply impossible for a knee walker to keep near him. 
Some wise men of science say that a rolling walk betokens 
a weakness of the muscles of the sides, but the wise men 
often make mistakes. The ungainly contortionist walk 
of the professional has its reasons for being. 
If then no man can succeed on the sawdust if he has a 
bound-up hip conformation, I should think the same 
would be true as to his success on the skis, where the roll- 
other fellows how many times they had fallen, and tlv y 
didn't ask me. I couldn't have told them accurately if 
they had. 
The Night Run Down Canyon Creek Hill. 
We plodded along in the night, making pretty good 
time over a country which did not seem to be so very 
difficult for sfci-work, though once in a while we struck 
slopes up which it was sore labor to climb. After the 
first four or Ave miles our crust left us, and toward morn- 
ing the snow began to have a creepy feel, which made us 
fear sticky work when the sun should come out. We 
made very good time till we got to the top of that long 
two miles of grade known as Canon Creek hill. (Billy 
took the old trail arid did not go by the new trail, past the 
