Special Guest

To make a change from London, I’d like to introduce Charles Woodruff, writing from Switzerland.

The view from the chalet: Eiger, Monch and shoulder of the Schwarze Monck

I am in a chalet 5,413 feet above sea level looking out at a vast perpendicular sheet of black rock, the Schwarze Monch. All around are mountains closely pressing in, no distant panorama of the Alps here. The most famous mountain I can see is the Eiger, notorious for its north face which has claimed so many lives. Even more lives have probably been lost on the 3,000 foot cliff just below me which drops into a narrow valley. Here base jumpers leap into the void, some to dash themselves to pieces on the rocks below.

Mürren where I write from is a small village spread along a ledge amongst spectacular alpine scenery. It is traffic free and accessible only by cable car (formally a funicular). It is the birthplace of ski racing, naturally overseen by the British and in particular Sir Arnold Lunn. At first the British came to walk and climb in the summer. There is a monument in the English church here to the daughter of Lord Rivers newly married to Major Arbuthnot of the 14th Hussars and killed by lightning on 21st June, 1865, a little below the peak of the Schilthorn (9,744 feet).

The Schilthorn now has a cable car running up to the summit, built just in time for filming the 1969 Bond film, On Her Majesty’s Secret Service. The revolving restaurant became the lair of Blofeld, played by Telly Savalas. Another Greek connection is Scaramanga (another Bond villain), an Anglo-Greek who presented a fine silver cup in the 1920s for the winner of a ski race featuring skiers roped in pairs. OHMSS is a good film despite starring Lazenby, the Australian hippy; it flopped mainly because it has a tragic ending.

The Schilthorn is the start of the Inferno, a downhill ski race open to amateurs. The classic course covers some 8.7 miles with a vertical drop of 6,890 feet. There are gruelling uphill stretches at high altitude which have to be climbed in skis. It was first run in 1928 when there were 17 competitors, all British, who had to climb up to the start and ski through untracked snow. Now there are some 1,800 runners, released every 12 seconds, which preserves some of the original flavour of the mass start as faster skiers overtake slower ones and crashing skiers have to be avoided. The British influence still lingers. I became a ‘Gentleman’ entrant a few years ago when I was 60 and the Kandahar ski club founded by Sir Arnold Lunn in 1924 always has a strong presence.

Relief after the Inferno race completed, Bronze in my class.

The Kandahar ski club is named after Lord Roberts of Kandahar, whom Sir Arnold Lunn admired. Its home is still Mürren and it still produces the best British racers. The slopes here are redolent of the early members. Martha’s meadow where Lord Knebworth, dressed as a woman, emerged to win a Ladies race, only to be disqualified when he was revealed as a man: the great British tradition of cross dressing; Mackintosh’s leap, always attempted by the huge man it was named after (no woman ever refused him) and never successfully negotiated; the Hindenberg run, named from memories of WWI, a piece of cake; Claude’s gully, after Sir Claude Schuster; the list could go on and on. Field Marshall Lord Mongomery came here after the war walking around the village in a huge white sheepskin coat and a military beret. Sir Arnold was an organizing genius who helped develop the early rules of ski racing. When challenged once by a Norwegian as to why he was so involved, he would never dare to interfere with the rules of cricket, Sir Arnold replied that that was a pity as the rules of cricket badly needed to be reformed. Some of the descendants of these Kandahar members still come to Mürren. Peter Lunn, the son of Sir Arnold skied these mountains well into his nineties (he was in MI6 and is mentioned in Ben Macintyre’s book on Philby: there is an implication he went to ski in the mountains of Lebanon to let Philby escape). His sons and grandchildren still ski here. My family were here in the twenties and I have some fine photographs of my father and my grandfather, invariably in a suit and tie, on the slopes.

My father and grandfather at Mürren, c.1928.

There are many other interesting connections, artistic as well as sporting one could write about, but space constrains. Mürren is skiing at its best: marvellous scenery, a pretty village with no cars, lots of history and congenial people with strong and old connections to the place. How much nicer than the glitzy enticements of Gstaad or Courcheval.

Two books which may be of interest: The Inferno Story, The 80 Year History of a Great Alpine Ski Race by Andrew Morgan and Sir Arnold Lunn, 1888-1974 by Elizabeth Hussey.
Keen skiers might enjoy seeing the whole Inferno course as filmed by a racer as he schusses down (and climbs).

Charles Woodruff

Mürren, February 2016