Ladies in the Field: Sketches of Sport Part 11

CYCLING.

BY MRS E. ROBINS PENNELL.

"There should be nothing so much a man's business as his amus.e.m.e.nts."

Subst.i.tute _woman_ for _man_, and I, for my part, cannot quarrel with Mr Stevenson's creed. Our amus.e.m.e.nts, after all, are the main thing in life, and of these I have found cycling the most satisfactory.

As a good healthy tonic, it should appeal to the scrupulous woman who cannot even amuse herself without a purpose; it has elements of excitement to attract the more adventurous. It is a pleasure in itself, the physical exercise being its own reward; it is a pleasure in what it leads to, since travelling is the chief end of the cycle. That women do not yet appreciate it at its true worth, that, as a rule, they would still rather play tennis or pull a boat than ride a bicycle, is their own great loss.

Cycling is the youngest of woman's sports. It did not come in until the invention of the tricycle, or three-wheeled machine; necessarily it was out of the question for anyone wearing skirts, divided or otherwise, to mount the tall bicycle, or "ordinary." In 1878 tricycles, invented at a still earlier date, were first practically advertised, and one of the authors of the book on cycling in the _Badminton Library_ says, that already in that year "tradition told of a lady rider, who, in company with her husband, made an extended tour along the south coast; and in quiet lanes and private gardens feminine riders began to initiate themselves into the pastime." But, despite the courage of their pioneer, not until a few years later did they desert private lanes for public roads, and then it was only in small numbers. Had they been more enterprising, a serious hindrance in their way was the fact that at first makers refused to understand their requirements. The early tricycles made for us were meant to be very ladylike, but they were sadly inappropriate. It was really the tandem which did most to increase the popularity of the sport among women. The sociable, where the riders sit side by side, was the first of the double machines, but it is an instrument of torture rather than of pleasure, as whoever has tried to work it knows to his or her cost. Its width makes it awkward and c.u.mbersome even on good roads, and when there is a head wind--and the wind always blows in one's face--the treadmill is child's play in comparison. The tandem, on which, as the name explains, one rider sits behind the other, takes up no more s.p.a.ce than a single tricycle and offers no more resistance to the wind, and this means far less work.

Besides, for many women to have a man to attend to the steering and braking, in those early days was not exactly a drawback; but even with the tandem progress was not rapid. I remember my first experience in 1884, when I practised on a Coventry "Rotary" in the country round Philadelphia, and felt keenly that a woman on a cycle was still a novelty in the United States. I came to England that same summer, but the women riders whom I met on my runs through London and the Southern Counties, I could count on the fingers of one hand. The Humbers had then brought out their tandem, and for it my husband and I exchanged our "Rotary," and started off in the autumn for Italy, where we rode from Florence to Rome. I have never made such a sensation in my life, and, for my own comfort, I hope I may never make such another: I ride to amuse myself, not the public. It was clear that Italian women were more behindhand than the English or Americans. There are, nowadays, more women riders in France, probably, than in any country, but in the summer of 1885, on the road from Calais to Switzerland, by Sterne's route, I was scarce accepted as an everyday occurrence.

Single tricycles improved with every year, and the introduction of the direct-steerer, or well-known "Cripper" type, a.s.sured their popularity.

More attention being paid by makers to women's machines, more women were seen on the roads. Then came the greatest invention of all, the "Woman's Safety." A certain benevolent Mr Sparrow, had, some years before, in 1880 to be accurate, built a woman's bicycle, a high one with the little wheel in front, something like the American "Star"; but the awkwardness of mounting and dismounting made it impracticable. Men had been riding the dwarf bicycle for two or three years before one was introduced with a frame that made it as suitable and possible for women. How near this brings us to the present, is proved by the fact that in the Badminton book, published in 1887, though there is a chapter on "Tricycling for Ladies," there is nothing about bicycling for them. I experimented in 1889 with a tandem safety, on which the front seat was designed for women, and then the single safety, with a dropped instead of a diamond frame, was already in the market. But it had made slight headway. In America it grew more rapidly in favour. The average road there is worse than here, and therefore the one track--the bicycle's great advantage--was much sooner appreciated. Cycling for women has never become fas.h.i.+onable in the United States, but, in proportion, a far greater number of American women ride, and with almost all the safety is the favourite mount. In France also the sport is more popular with women than in Great Britain, and one might almost say that it is the safety which has made it so. Riding through Prussia, Saxony and Bavaria in the summer of 1891, I met but two women cyclists, and they both rode safeties. In England, however, women, until very recently, have seemed absurdly conservative in this matter; they clung to the three wheels, as if to do so were the one concession that made their cycling proper. A few of the more radical--"wild women" Mrs Lynn Linton would call them--saw what folly this was, and many have now become safety riders; but not the majority. Only the other day, in Bushey Park, I met a large club on their Sat.u.r.day afternoon run; half the members were women, but not one was on a bicycle. This, I know, is but a single isolated instance, but it is fairly typical.

And yet the safety is the machine of all others, which, were my advice asked, I would most care to recommend. And I would have the wheels fitted with cus.h.i.+on tyres--the large rubber tyre with a small hole down the centre--or, better still, with pneumatics, the tyres that are inflated with air. Both deaden vibration. The latter necessitate carrying an air-pump and a repairing kit, for if the rubber be cut or punctured, as frequently happens, the air, of course, escapes at once, and the cut or puncture must be mended and the tube blown up again, which means trouble. But the many improvements introduced make the task of repairing easier every day. My career as a bicyclist began in 1891, but, short as it may seem, I think it has qualified me to speak with authority. For my little Marriot, and Cooper's "Ladies' Safety,"

carried me across Central Europe, and as far east as the Roumanian frontier. My experience agrees with that of all other safety riders, men or women. The chief advantage of the machine is, as I have said, its one track, but this cannot be over-estimated. Roads must be, indeed, in a dreadful condition if s.p.a.ce for one wheel to be driven easily over them cannot be found. The bicyclist can scorch in triumph along the tiniest footpath, while the tricyclist trudges on foot, pus.h.i.+ng her three wheels through the mud or sand. Moreover, there is less resistance to the wind, and in touring, it is far easier to dispose of the small light safety than of the wider machine when you put up in a little inn at night, or are forced for a time to take the train. Many a night in Germany, Austria, and Hungary did my bicycle share my bedroom with me.

The chief drawback to the safety is usually found in learning to mount and steer. I shall be honest, and admit that there is a difficulty. The tricycle has the grace to stand still while the beginner experiments, but the safety is not to be trifled with. Sometimes it seems as if a look were enough to upset it. Of course, at first, it is well to let someone hold and steady it until its eccentricities are mastered, for it is entirely in the balancing that the trouble lies; the mount in itself is as simple as possible. The rider stands to the left of the machine by the pedals; taking hold of the handle bars she slowly wheels it until the right pedal is at the highest point, turns the front wheel a little to the right, and puts her right foot on the right pedal; this at once starts the machine and raises her into the saddle, and as the left pedal comes up, it is caught with her left foot. The great thing is to have confidence in the machine; she who shows the least fear or distrust is completely at its mercy. To dismount is as simple: when the left pedal is at its lowest point, the right foot is brought over the frame and the rider steps to the ground. If a sudden stop be necessary, she must put the brake on, not too abruptly, or she may be jerked out of the saddle.

The steering is the true difficulty in safety riding, and yet it cannot well be taught; it must come by practice, with some very painful experiences in the coming. The obstinacy of the safety seems at first unconquerable. During my apprentices.h.i.+p, many a time have I been going in a straight line with every intention of keeping on in it, when, without warning, my safety has turned sharply at a right angle, rushed to the ditch and deposited me there. But the funny part of it is, that the woman who perseveres, gradually, she can scarcely explain how, gets the better of its self-willed peculiarities until she has it under perfect control.

The best plan is, in the very beginning, to take a few practical lessons. There is an excellent teacher to be found at Singers' shop, in Holborn Viaduct, where a cellar paved with asphalt is kept as a school.

The beginner would do well to practise there until she can at least sit up on the machine and balance it a little, and until she begins to understand the first principles of steering. At this point in bicycling education I would urge her to leave the schoolroom for the high road.

If she waits until she is too far advanced on asphalt, where the machine goes almost by itself, she may have to commence all over again on an ordinary road. She should learn what is called ankle action from the start. Once the cyclist gets into a bad style of riding it is hard for her to get out of it; and the more the ankle comes into play the less strain is there on the muscles of the legs. A good rider expends half as much energy and makes far better time than the woman who has not mastered the art. If going up hill be exhausting, why, then it is wise to walk. Going down, if the hill be long, the brake must be used from the start, and to know how to back-pedal is important. To back-pedal is to press on the pedal when it is coming up instead of when it is going down. Nothing could be more dangerous than to lose control of a machine on a down grade. Some of the most serious accidents have been the result of the rider's letting her cycle run away with her in coasting.

I have enumerated the virtues of the bicycle. As to its vices, I do not find that it has any. An objection often is raised against it because, if brought to a stand-still by traffic or any other cause, the rider must dismount at once. But I do not count this a serious hards.h.i.+p; I have never been inconvenienced by it. Again, it is urged that the luggage-carrying capacity of the safety is small compared to that of the three-wheeled machine. This is truer of the woman's than of the man's bicycle, since we, poor things, must carry our knapsack behind the saddle or on the handle bars, while a most delightful and clever little bag is made by Rendell & Underwood to fit into the diamond frame of a man's safety. But, for a short trip, actual necessities--that is, a complete change of underclothing, a night-dress, and a not too luxurious toilet case--can be carried in the knapsack slung behind. For a long trip it is always advisable to send a large bag or trunk, according to the individual's wants, from one big town to the next on the route.

Luggage suggests the subject of dress, as important to the woman who cycles as to the woman who dances. A grey tweed that defies dust and rain alike, makes the perfect gown; if a good, strong waterproof be added, a second dress will not be needed. For summer, a linen or thin flannel blouse and jacket--perhaps a silk blouse, for evening, in the knapsack--and, for all seasons, one of Henry Heath's felt hats complete the costume. For underwear, the rule is wool next the skin, combinations by choice. Woollen stays contribute to one's comfort, and each rider can decide for herself between knickerbockers and a short petticoat. There is something to be said for each. This is practically the outfit supplied by the Cyclists Touring Club for its women members.

As for style, an ordinary tailor-made gown, simple rather than elaborate, answers the purpose of the tricyclist. The bicyclist does not get off so easily. Even with a suitable dress-guard, and, no matter what the makers say, the dress-guard should extend over the entire upper half of the rear wheel, there is ever danger of full long skirts catching in the spokes and bringing the wearer in humiliation and sorrow to the ground. Many strange and awful costumes have been invented to obviate the danger--one that is skirt without and knickerbockers within; another that is nothing more nor less than a shapeless bag, when all that is needed is a dress shorter and skimpier than usual, with hem turned up on the outside, and absolutely nothing on the inner side to catch in the pedals. Now, the trouble is that for the tourist, who carries but one gown, and who objects to being stared at as a "Freak" escaped from a side show, it is awkward, when off the bicycle, to be obliged to appear in large towns in a dress up to her ankles; she might pa.s.s unnoticed in Great Britain, but on the Continent she becomes the observed of all observers. At the risk of seeming egotistic, I will explain, as I have already explained elsewhere, the device by which I make my one cycling gown long and short, as occasion requires. There is a row of safety hooks, five in all, around the waistband, and a row of eyes on the skirt about a foot below. In a skirt so provided, I look like every other woman when off the machine.

Just before I mount, I hook it up, and I wheel off with an easy mind, knowing there is absolutely nothing to catch anywhere. I have read in cycling papers many descriptions of other women's bicycling costumes, but never yet have I discovered one which, for simplicity and appropriateness, could compete with mine.[9]

[9] Since printing this, a few Englishwomen have appeared on the public roads in knickerbockers, and have made, as was to be expected, great talk in the cycling press. Frenchwomen gave them the example; in France, there is scarce a woman bicyclist who has not adopted knickerbockers, or else a sort of gymnasium dress. Of the greater comfort and safety secured, there can be no question; the chief drawback to this costume, especially for the tourist, is its conspicuousness.

On all that concerns touring, it is important to dwell, for it is in travelling on the road that women must find chief use for their cycles, and this they have had the common sense to realise. Quite a number belong to the Cyclists' Touring Club, and are among its more active members. True, a few have appeared on the path, have turned the highway into a race course, and occasionally, have broken records and done the other wonders to which I, personally, attach no value, whether they be performed by men or women. Mrs J. S. Smith, whose husband is the manufacturer of the "Invincible" cycles, has with him, on his "sociable" and tandem, run at several Surrey meetings and in other places, and her feats are included in the list of the world's records.

Mrs Allen of Birmingham, once rode two hundred miles in twenty-four hours. Fraulein Johanne Jorgensen, the woman champion of Denmark, is fast breaking the records of her own country, and threatens to come over and break those of England. The ease with which Mrs Preston Davies (wife of the inventor of the Preston Davies tyre) rode up Petersham Hill, though not exactly a record, made quite a little talk among cyclists. Miss Reynolds, who rode from Brighton to London and back in eight hours, is the heroine of the day. We have even seen a team of women professionals imported from America only to meet with the failure they deserved. But, fortunately, these are the exceptions. I say fortunately, because, while I am not prudish enough to be shocked by the mere appearance of women on the path, I do not think they have the physical strength to risk the fearful strain and exertion. If men cannot stand it for many years, women can still less. Cycling is healthy; to this fact we have the testimony of such men as Dr Richardson and Dr Oscar Jennings, whose books on the subject should be consulted by all interested; especially Dr Jenning's "_Cycling and Health_," since in his chapter on "Cycling for Women," he has collected together the opinions of leading authorities. Like everything else, however, if carried to excess, cycling becomes a positive evil.

It can be overdone on the road, but here the temptations are not so great. I know many women who have toured often and far, and are none the worse for it. There are few, however, who have taken notable rides.

Mrs Harold Lewis of Philadelphia, once, with her husband, travelled on a tandem from Calais across France and Switzerland, and over some of the highest Swiss pa.s.ses. In the Elwell tours from America--a species of personally-conducted tours on wheels--women have more than once been in the party. But of other long journeys so seldom have I heard, that sometimes I wonder if, without meaning to, I have broken the record as touring wheel-woman. But the truth is, that, while every racing event is chronicled far and wide in the press, the tourist accomplishes her feats without advertis.e.m.e.nt, solely for the pleasure of travelling by cycle.

And what stronger inducement could she have? Hers is all the joy of motion, not to be under-estimated, and of long days in the open air; all the joy of adventure and change. Hers is the delightful sense of independence and power, the charm of seeing the country in the only way in which it can be seen; instead of being carried at lightning speed from one town to another where the traveller is expected and prepared for, the cyclist's is a journey of discovery through little forgotten villages and by lonely farm-houses where the sight-seer is unknown.

And, above all, cycling day after day and all day long will speedily reduce, or elevate, her to that perfect state of physical well-being, to that healthy animal condition, which in itself is one of the greatest pleasures in life.

Women have used cycles for other purposes. Doctors ride them to visit their patients, the less serious go shopping on them. Clubs have been formed here, and more successfully in America. There is at least one journalist, Miss Lilias Campbell Davidson, who is on the staff of the _Bicycling News_ and the _Cyclists' Touring Club Gazette_. But, when all is said, the true function of the cycle is to contribute to the amus.e.m.e.nt and not the duties of life, and it is in touring that this end is best fulfilled.

ELIZABETH ROBINS PENNELL.

PUNTING.

BY MISS SYBIL SALAMAN.

That punting is an art, and a very graceful one, was borne in upon me late one hot, lazy, summer afternoon, while idly musing under the verandah of a houseboat on the upper Thames, and from that day to this, one of my most ardent desires has been to become an expert punter. It was in the prettiest reach on the river, just above the lock, that the houseboat lay. The sun was setting behind the trees, and tinting with a rosy glow the mist that was creeping up from the bank. Perfect peace was over the scene, and did not Nature abhor silence as much as she does a vacuum, I might almost say that silence rested upon the river.

But birds sang, now and then a fish would jump, curl its silver body in the air, and return to its watery home with a splash, the mooring chains of the houseboat were grating as the river rippled by, and in the distance was the hissing sound of the weir. Suddenly there came a noisy intrusion, the peacefulness was disturbed, the air was full of discordant voices and the irregular splashes of ill-managed oars, for the lock-gates had opened and let loose a crowd of noisy, scrambling, Sat.u.r.day half-holiday folk. Happily, they soon pa.s.sed by, and the sound of their incongruous chatter and laughter, and intermittent splas.h.i.+ng followed them out of my ken, and then all was quiet and peaceful again, and I was left gazing dreamily at the disturbed fishes darting about in the shallow water where the houseboat lay.

Presently a gentle rippling sound caused me to look up. A girl was punting past, there was no splas.h.i.+ng, no scramble, apparently no effort. The girl never moved from where she stood, only her body swayed backwards and forwards on her pole, easily and evenly, and the long straight craft glided by, answering to every touch. I hardly realised then that this slim, graceful girl was doing all the work herself, it looked so easy and simple. The water bubbled aloud under the bow of the punt, and the girl's shadow floated on the water, the red sunlight lay like a pathway before her, and the ripples seemed to part to make way for her as she brought her punt steadily along. She made a lovely picture, and I watched her as she went down the river, in the rising mist and the sunlight, marvelling at the straight line she kept, watching the monotonous motion of the pole rising and falling, and listening almost unconsciously for the hollow ring of the shoe striking on the hard ground, till a sudden bend in the river took her out of sight, though, for some time, I still saw the top of her pole over the bushes rhythmically rising high in the air and disappearing from view.

From that moment I decided to be a punter--this girl was once only a beginner--surely, I thought, there was hope for me.

I need not dwell on all my personal experiences--there is a great sameness about the first efforts of all punters, they all go round in circles. But there are certain hints which beginners will do well to follow.

First of all they must not be discouraged by the inevitable clumsiness of their first endeavours, the ease and grace of punting comes only after much experience.

To the girl who wishes seriously to become a punter, it is far better, having once understood the principle by which a punt is propelled and steered, to go out and struggle alone. If someone is always by to take the pole from her, should any difficulty arise, she will not gain that independence which is so absolutely essential to every punter.

Just a word as to dress.

A good punter can dress as she pleases, but all beginners get wet; no one can teach them how to avoid this until they have acquired a certain style. Therefore I should recommend a serge skirt, not too long, that will stand any amount of water, a loose blouse, with sleeves which can unb.u.t.ton and roll up; shoes with low heels, and, for preference, india-rubber soles, as they prevent slipping if the punt be at all wet.

As in rowing and sculling the work in punting is distributed all over the body, and does not only exercise the arm, as so many beginners imagine. In punting, all the weight of the body should be thrown back on the pole with the push, which, by the way, should never be given until the shoe has gripped the ground. This brings into play all the muscles of the back, shoulders, and arms, also the hips. This upright position is attained by swinging the body back on the pole when the shoe has gripped the ground, while one foot is firmly planted a little in advance, and the other leg rests behind with bended knee, thus enabling the arms to be kept nearly straight and the hands well over the water.

Punting in this stationary position is technically called "p.r.i.c.king."

Of the different styles of punting I shall speak more fully later on.

The greatest difficulty for the beginner is to keep the punt straight, but to achieve this it is only necessary to be always watching the bow of the punt, and to remember that whichever way the top of the pole points, the bow will run in the opposite direction. In steering there are, practically speaking, two strokes--in one the pole is thrown in away from the side of the punt, which brings the bow in towards the bank, and in the other the pole is dropped in under the bottom of the punt, which turns the bow away from the bank. A punter, by the way, always punts from the side nearest the bank. But the steering should not be perceptible, and must never be allowed to detract from the strength of the stroke. It is effected, as I have said, by the angle at which the pole is thrown in, and also by the position of the shoe on the ground at the finish of the stroke. The direction of a punt with "way" on is altered by the slightest touch.

The very bad habit of steering with the pole behind off the ground, using the pole as a rudder, is never practised by good punters. In very deep water, or in a strong stream, it must either break or strain the pole, and it is not nearly so quick or effectual a way of steering as the proper method I have described.

There are two ways of punting, known respectively as "p.r.i.c.king" and "running." Roughly speaking "running" is more general on the upper river, that is, above Windsor, and "p.r.i.c.king" on the shallower and less muddy waters of Staines and Sunbury; though "p.r.i.c.king" is much more popular in all parts of the river than it was a year or so ago--very few people "run" punts below Maidenhead now.

For "running" all the weight should be in the stern. The punter must not go too far forward up the bow or she will stop the "way" of the punt. A steady pressure should be kept up while walking down the punt once the pole is thrown into the water, and a strong push given at the finish in the stern. If the pressure is too great at the commencement of the stroke, by the time the stem is reached the bow will have run out into the stream, so that, at the finish of the stroke, too much force has to be used to bring the punt in again. This detracts from the speed and causes a zig-zag course. As in "p.r.i.c.king," there should not be too much steering. It is impossible, in "running" a punt, to steer entirely without the effort being perceptible. Against a strong stream and wind, and with a heavy load it is often far easier to "run." For "p.r.i.c.king," the punter a.s.sumes a stationary position in the stern, about a third of the way up the punt and facing the bow, while all the weight to be carried is put in front of the punter. The pole must never be reversed to bring the punt in or out, but kept the same side, that is, in the shallow water nearest the bank. The pole should be thrown in as near the side of the punt as possible without sc.r.a.ping it each time.

This enables the punter to keep an upright position, and exert more force than if the pole were held far away from the punt.

A pole is taken out hand over hand, and should be recovered in as few movements as possible. In racing especially a quick recovery is a very great advantage. It should be taken out in two movements in shallow water, so that a fast punter would be ready to throw in her pole for the next push before a punter with a slow recovery had taken her pole out of the water. Of course, in very deep water, two movements will be found impossible.

In an ordinary way, and going up stream, the pole is thrown about opposite to with the body, but going down, in a very strong stream the pole should be thrown in some way in advance of the body, otherwise the punter loses her grip on the ground in consequence of the stream carrying the punt so rapidly on that the pole floats uselessly out in the stream, and no time is given for the push. A punt can be stopped dead by reversing the pole--not to the opposite side of the punt, but by throwing it in in the opposite direction to that in which the punter is pus.h.i.+ng. A punt is sometimes considered somewhat awkward to turn, but the distance of her own length is nearly enough in reality if she is turned properly! When the "way" on her is stopped the pole should be thrown in the other side, across the deck--the shoe pointing a long way off from the punt, so that the pole slants right across, the punter facing the stern. This stroke repeated once or twice will turn a punt almost in her own water.

When crossing strong streams, the bow must be kept well up against the stream, or the current will carry the punt right round. In a strong wind the same precaution is necessary. It is sometimes easier in much wind to push the punt backwards--the stern foremost, the punter standing in the bow. A punt is not so much influenced by the wind with all the weight in front, and is therefore easier to keep straight. If the bow is out of the water, it is blown from one side to the other, and it is often very difficult to steer. In the wash of a steamer punters should keep away from the bank, or the punt may be swept on to it, when it will probably s.h.i.+p water.

In going over new ground, it is well to be prepared for mud or loose s.h.i.+ngle. If there has been any dredging, the ground is always loose, and it is easy to lose one's balance if quite unprepared for the ground crumbling away under a hard push. The same thing takes place with an unexpected deep hole, where the pole is flung in and cannot reach the bottom.

If a punter be always prepared for these things, there is no danger, but an unthinking beginner is apt to throw in her pole fiercely, and on finding it stuck fast in the mud, she will probably fall in herself if she clings to it valiantly but foolishly. Never cling to a pole therefore--rather let it go. For this reason, or in case of accidentally breaking a pole, punters should always carry an extra one in the punt.

Some people have straps on the outside of their punts for extra poles, but these are apt to be a nuisance in locks, and they spoil the trim and neat appearance of a punt. Beware of a wooden bottom to a lock, for the shoe of the pole may stick fast in the wood and the bow of the punt swing round across the lock-gates.