396 
FOREST AND STREAM 
SEPTEMBER , 1917 
THE MOTORCYCLE FOR GETTING THERE 
By GEORGE H. STIPP 
T HE motorcycle as a means of trans¬ 
portation for the sportsman has been 
extolled from time to time. That the 
fiery steed is able to excel all others in 
this regard and master almost insurmount¬ 
able obstacles has been demonstrated on 
numerous occasions. Its capacity for speed 
and endurance on moderately level roads 
has long been admitted, but a better idea 
of the wonderful force pent up in the 
engine of the modern motorcycle was con¬ 
veyed not long ago when two-wheelers 
climbed up the bare side of a mountain in 
Alum Rock Canyon, seven miles from San 
Jose, in Santa Clara county, California. 
The test was made up an incline gra¬ 
dient ranging from 40 to 50 per cent., with 
only a hundred-foot start—on a 20 per 
pices of the San Jose Motorcycle club and 
is thought to have been the most daring 
and spectacular in the history of Pacific 
Coast motorcycling. The course was not 
over 200 yards in length and lay up the 
mountain where there was no sign of a 
road; the start was made on a 20 to 25 
per cent, grade, and there was a sharp turn 
in the course 50 feet from the start. The 
course was covered with loose surface soil 
three inches deep. Some of the riders 
were stalled by this and had to jump and 
allow their wheels to slide down hill on 
their sides. 
course, prove the iron horse capable of en¬ 
durance under strain and illustrate in a 
spectacular way its ability to “take” rough 
places on the game trail. But it is the ca¬ 
pacity for covering the ground under 
average conditions and with little bother 
over repairs that appeals most strongly to 
the sportsman. The motorcycle that meets 
these requirements will prove in the end 
to be the sportsman’s choice. 
cent, grade. In three instances riders who 
successfully made the ascent were unable 
to shut off on the little shelf at the top 
of the range, and were obliged to jump 
while the wheels, rid of their load, plunged 
on up the hill into a barbed wire fence. 
In one case the wild machine leaped clear 
over its barrier, like a bucking broncho. 
The event was conducted under the aus- 
Three trials at the climb were allowed 
each rider. Some of the riders used drive 
chains wired around their rear tires, and 
some used regulation skid chains and rope 
skids. But even with these devices the 
rear wheels were able to gain little traction 
in the loose soil. The apparently irresisti¬ 
ble capacity of the motorcycle to move for¬ 
ward over any surface at almost any angle 
to the horizon was all that carried the ma¬ 
chine up the inclined course. 
It is not these freak tests however that 
demonstrate the usefulness of the motor¬ 
cycle to the sportsman. Such feats, of 
CALL OF THE WILD PLACES 
I T happened before the war, “somewhere 
in France.” 
The old village priest was a duck 
fancier and breeder of wide reputation. 
There was nothing he didn’t know about 
ducks. He raised them for pleasure and 
for profit, and the greater part of the meat 
served on his hospitable table was duck. 
And thus when one fine day in Spring a 
woodsman found, on the banks of a cool 
forest stream, a dozen fresh wild-duck 
eggs it was only the natural thing to do 
to make them a present to Father Lebas, 
the old priest. And the man considered 
himself amply rewarded for his trouble 
of carrying the eggs gingerly in his hat 
all the long way home by the great joy of 
the old gentleman at the reception of the 
By JAY WEY 
unexpected giftjthe was di'xghted. Now 
he would add domesticated wild ducks 
to the many different breeds he already 
possessed; and maybe he could cross them 
with some of those others and create a 
new strain. 
That very night before the old gentleman 
went to bed a broody duck was contentedly 
established on the twelve wild-duck eggs. 
In due course of time the eggs hatched 
out, the whole dozen all healthy and 
strong; there was not one weak baby 
among them. By this time the whole vil¬ 
lage knew about the incident; and as the 
old man was well liked by young and 
old, there wasn’t a soul who didn’t take 
interest in the ducklings. They were 
such lively little balls of down!—And how 
they grew. 
* * J{S * 5|C 
The village was divided by a shallow 
creek, its banks grown with willows and 
a strip of meadow some twenty yards wide 
running on both sides all along through 
the village. The other edge of the strip of 
meadow is bordered by the village road. 
This is Eldorado for all the waterfowl of 
the village; here the ducks and geese swim 
and dive and forage all day long. At 
nightfall they go home to get their feed 
and are locked up,—to return bright and 
early again next morning. 
The priest’s house was situated on a 
slight incline about three hundred yards 
from the creek. The road that passes 
(continued on page 437 ) 
