Words by Sarah Barker.
I’ve observed that runners read. This is strictly anecdotal, and scientific rigor could easily prove me wrong, but I find that when runners return from seven or eight hours of scissoring the pins, they like to have a knees up. Because they are obsessive multitaskers, reading ensues. Next day, they’ve got great ghastly miles of thinks about what they read, and the cycle continues.
They might like to read about the Monte Rosa region which they will be trotting through in September, for context. (Thank goodness, we’ve arrived at the point of this missive.) Well, running readers, here’s a very short list of Monte Rosa-related material that will provide at least 116 kilometers of things to think about.
The story of Ulrich Inderbinen, the oldest Alpine guide. Two ways to enjoy this icon of alpinism—in a brief but entertaining Alpine Journal article, or the more thorough biography mentioned in the article, Ulrich Inderbinen: As old as the century. Inderbinen lived and worked around the Monte Rosa massif through the age of 95, passing away in 2004 at age 103. He was known for his professionalism, unerring mountain skills, impeccable manners, and dry humor.
Alone In The Alps, by James Lasdun. This lengthy article that appeared recently in the New Yorker describes the eight-country Via Alpina which actually skirts the Monte Rosa region. But the terrain and unfolding long-distance trail experiences Lasdun relates are very similar to those you’ll find at UTMR. Particularly resonant is this description of the cultural variety in each new valley: “The Rockies may offer wilder wildernesses, but you don’t experience the pleasure of sharp cultural variegation as you move from place to place. In the Alps, it’s still present in the shifting styles of church towers, village fountains, sheepcotes, hay barns. It’s there in the odd bits of language that filter through even if you’re an incurable monoglot like me. (How nice it is to learn that the German word for the noise cowbells make is Gebimmel, and that the Swiss-Romanche word for “boulder” is crap.) It’s there in the restaurant menus: daubes giving way to dumplings, raclette to robiola; and in the freshly incomprehensible road signs, which in Slovenia are clotted with impenetrable consonant clusters, as if vowels were an indulgence.”
Mr Noon, by D.H. Lawrence. Started in 1920, abandoned in 1921, and finally published in 1984, Lawrence’s novel is largely autobiographical. Most relevant to this list is the second part of the book that describes the main character’s elopement and subsequent romantic tramping through the Alps with his lover. Holds promise on a number of levels.
I’d like to point out, I am receiving no kickback for this listing whatsoever: Runner: a short story about a long run, by Lizzy Hawker. If you want to reach way back to the very origins of UTMR, you’ll find the answer here. Lizzy’s love of mountains was planted, nurtured and flowered in the high meadows and craggy peaks of the Monte Rosa massif. You’ll get to know both the UTMR director and the high passes and dark valleys that inspired her—directly applicable, no imagination required.