Show missionary writes from switzerland from the far off village of mettlen in the swiss alps and under date of december 28 bill warner a richfield boy laboring in the swiss german mission writes the I 1 following interesting letter to the reaper the richfield reaper richfield utah my dear mrs airs fuellenbach ellenbach Pu because an old old saying proved its untruthfulness untruthful ne ss the reaper is receiving this letter this bit of would be sagacity infers that just over the fence the grass is greener I 1 ponder over this and after no little amount of mental calisthenics the idea vaguely dawned upon me that if the grass is greener on yonder side of yon fence why the snow be whiter and deeper this sounded logical logical eno enough ugh in fact that two of us lads hungry for the best ski slopes that mother nature has to offer dof fed our ministerial cloaks donned square toed ski shoes ski togs swung our norwegian boards over our shoulders and set out for those millennial slopes mettlen the little ultra plebeian village where we live resets unobtrusively tru in a pasture farm valley formed by the slopes of the world famous Jung frau to the south and the rugged saw toothed extremes on the north which the stockham Stoc khorn khom range in this chis reposing small town life bespeaks past centuries mannerisms remain fixed five minutes of walking from mettlen takes one to stockham Stoc khorn khom slopes where superb skiing is to be had obsessed with that greener grass belief we thumbed our noses at those already enjoying the waxed wood sport and pressed on with childlike child like faith toward that mountain which loomed into view on each new horizon ascent was difficult and necessitated zigzag zig za zag climbing the snow on the bob sleigh run like trail was icy actually the trail wasla wasa log chute in summer the swiss woodsmen woodsman woods men wrest the logs from the high mountain plateaus and then in winter they are ridden sleigh fashion to the valley and thence to the saws here is a work that demands alertness and presence of mind when the snow is of sufficient depth the swiss woodsman with his stumpy sleigh dog and omnipresent whiskey jug ascends the steep mountain for a mile or more until he reaches his pre felled trees the fore end of the log he secures to the sleigh and allows the aft end to drag this dragging end in conjunction with heavy chains bound about the sleigh runners as his only means of braking many logs measure three feet in diameter and thirty feet in length by the time our hero has maneuvered the log into its precarious position on the brink of the slide he is s deservingly fatigued here is where his liquor jug comes into prominence just before straddling the log for the plunge downward he drinks copiously of the jug takes a deep breath belches and coaxes the potential timber energy over the edge when asked why the liquor at the start the native replies unashamed that sobriety is too much the coward one glance at the run from above goose fleshed me I 1 counted the hairpin curves and the too little banked twists and withdrew my proposal to accompany a log the feeling as one drops over the brink is I 1 imagine akin to the roller coaster qualm only more so several logs each topped by a semi sober yodeling son of the alps shot past us as we ascended As we made our way through deepening ever snow we became aware of nightfall the sun sinking bathed the perennially snow be decked Jung frau in resplendent splashes of orange our skiing apparently was condemn condemned ea until the morrow by dar darkness kriess we were groping about in hip deep snow crusted just enough so as to not w withstand ith stand our weight the path had not been seen for several hours nor had we reached our sought seii slopes we were lost and we knew it we were not only lost we thoroughly hated ourselves for having forsaken excellent snow for that unattainable the skis weighed tons we felt like giving the things a throw kick ourselves and chase each other home the night was as black as ink we trudged stumbled cursed and picked ourselves up for perhaps 1 two hours when suddenly one of us derelicts espied a light which gradually indicated the presence of a cabin A voice from behind was croaking through a native milking song keeping rhythmically in time with squirts of milk in a bucket the owner of that voice was a typical benin gnant old mountain hermit with a hoary unkempt beard of nondescript bushiness he was plainly startled by our sudden appearance his hospitality however exceeded his mien for he invited us to share our perplexities with him over tea cubs cups we were famished and although his abode bespoke and a distinct lack of feminine fussiness we chewed and gulped through a really tasty meal the old fellow low desultorily talked about his dislike of things feminine about his misogamy and about his gout his puffy red jowls welling up and down with each word eating we bemoaned our ity to ski with the mention of the word he excitedly jumped to his feet and with a long raking sweep of dirty coat sleeve he pointed at the moon just appear appearing I 1 i ng over the mountain his sallies were so unannounced that we though that he had suddenly gone crazy from an equator long string of mountain jargon we gleaned that moonlight skiing was the latest fad it remained d an enigma how the old anthropoid knew of things recent from him it was learned that the prudent thing for us to do would be to point our ski tips downhill toward home the return trip should be merely a matter of minutes if you ski a la perpendicular he said the old indian who said skiing was whoosh then walk a mile was a sage if ever there was one ahling is remarkable it simply nonplus ses one how in a fraction of a second ones skis which are innocently gliding over the snow under one can suddenly loom up behind to come crashing down on ones skull is something for one more gifted than I 1 to figure out and so mrs fuellenbach were it not for the fact that I 1 am humbly atop my stove yes right we all learn to sit stoves over here coaxing stubborn frost out of my distressed feet and were it not for the fact that I 1 have momentarily enta rily time on my hands the reaper might never have been the recipient of such a missive yours truly BILL WARNER P S the reaper arrives per schedule every week fraught with things interesting thanks to the entire staff B |