The Skiman, of course, is no mere skier. He holds that any fool can learn to slide down an icy hill on a pair of slats. True Skimanship consists of appearing as an expert without actually knowing how to ski. This appearance aids the Skiman's technique in such accompanying winter sports as snow-bunnying and bird-dogging, at which he is generally fairly adroit anyway.

Sartorial appearance is the first concern of the Skiman. The effect should be that of cosmopolitan carelessness. It will be noted that only the amateur Skiman lets ski-two tickets congregate on his collar or belt. The true Skiman's jacket is bare and somewhat battered. In advanced cases, a small shoulder-patch, reading "Innsbruck," is permissible. One of the best ploys is mismatched skis, preferably one white and one brown, or one racing ski and one cross-country ski. This is the famous "Sturm and Drang" technique; it give the Skiman a chance to explain that his skis were carved especially by Ole, with an eye to aiding the Skiman's unique "left-handed Zeitgeist."

After a suitable period in the warming-hut, the Skiman is ready for an actual attempt at skiing, keeping in mind always the cardinal rule of Skimanship: let everything you do appear to be intentional.

The following scene will illustrate:

Friend: "Say, that was a nasty spill. Are you all right?"

Skiman (picking self up): "Of course. But I can't seem to do a Weltanschauung any more."

Friend (frowning): "A Weltanschauung?"

Skiman: "Ah, well. Weltanschauung himself once told me he often missed two out of five."

A secondary ploy is the faulty-mechanism technique. Here the Skiman crawls to the side of the trail after a spill, feverishly snapping one binding and muttering Swedish cusswords. The bad binding can excuse several spills if worked right.

For extensive trail skiing, the "skiing-is-so-secondary" technique is the most useful. Unable to negotiate sharp turns, the Skiman may find himself banking off into the woods, an embarrassing situation at best. By the time his friends have reached him, the quick-thinking Skiman is tearing the bark from a tree and murmuring Latin words. The Skiman can then explain the rarity of the tree in the region, or some other suitable natural phenomena which excited his curiosity when he saw it form the trail.

The logical extension of "secondary" Skimanship is esthetic Skimanship. Here the sprawled Skiman does not even attempt to regain his feet. He arranges himself into a fairly comfortable sitting position, while gazing abstractly at a part of the trail. When his companions arrive, he waves them away, whispering "shadows of the trees across the trail . . . beautiful . . . note the purple on white, the blue on purple . . . wonderful . . ."

It is after sundown that the real Skiman works best, for he can combine his other talents with Skimanship.

Snow-bunny: "Gee, the country around here is pretty."

Skiman (Toasting feet at fire, cocktail in hand): "Prettiest up on Suicide Plummet."

Snow-bunny (wide-eyed): "But they won't open that for a week still."

Skiman (modestly): "Well, somebody has to start breaking it in . . ."