We arrived at summer school at the ski lodge after driving north for three hours. It was high on a level area on the side of a high mountain and the ski lift was motionless for the summer. At this time of year it is a deserted place, much different from the all the bustle and activity in winter.
There are beautiful green mountain meadows and clumps of forest on the mountain sides. Ben says it looks exactly like the Black Forest in Germany. Cattle which had been driven into the mountains for the summer will soon be rounded up and herded down to home ranches for the winter. There will be round-ups, and cattle drives will happen about 4:30 in the early morning with people on horseback, wearing jeans, stetson hats, and high heeled riding boots driving the cattle down and along deserted roads before the day's vehicular traffic begins. This is real cowboy country. There are ranches with their brands displayed over their gates, and even rustlers and range patrols. Many native people live in the area. Many of the men and women here wear cowboy hats and boots because those are their work clothes. They walk like cowboys because they are used to riding horses. There are lots of pick-up trucks. There is everything you may have read or seen in westerns, except shoot-outs.
On the third day Uncle Ben climbed to the very top of the mountain by at first taking rough trails along the ski-lift that were used when they put in the high towers that carry cables for the cable chairs to the ski runs at the top. Finally there were no more trails and he climbed through rocks. On the way up he found a pond where the cattle drink, and a high mountain meadow full of deep grass where they make their beds that looked like nests. They had not eaten that grass down so that it would remain long and soft for them, and there were lots of big sloppy "cow patties" around. Finally he came to the very top of the mountain and admired all the long, wonderful views in every direction. He could even see our little blue and white camper far, far below. I had heard him leave at 5:30, and he returned a little after 8 in time for a quick breakfast and classes.
We found a place at the edge of a steep bluff to park our camper. Our window faced toward the setting sun and we had a fine wide view of other mountains and forests going on forever to the horizon. It was cold and windy at night and we pitied the campers in tents. Our camper has a little furnace so we were cosy. Next day we loaned a spare blanket and mattress to some tenters. They moved their tent to a sheltered area away from the wind and very close to the big shed where the snow grooming equipment is kept.
This was a Baha'i Summer School, and at this one everybody pays what they feel they can afford. We put $80.00 into the pot. Non-Baha'is don't pay. They are our guests. Only Baha'is can give to the Faith and any extra money was going to go to the Funds. It wasn't a large school. There were about 65 people and about 25 children on Sunday and fewer on Friday, Saturday and Monday. The lodge is built of big wooden timbers and has a field stone fireplace. You could see by the smoke-stained rocks what hearty fires they build in winter! There were people from many backgrounds. Canadians who had come from Romania, Hawaii, South Africa, two countries in Africa, China, South America, Iceland, USA, Israel, Pakistan, Belgium, various middle eastern countries and a number of native Indians. Those who organized and cooked were volunteers and the rest of us helped wherever we saw it was needed. We picked up all our litter before we left and the place was nice and clean again. I hope we'll be able to go again next year. We have been there twice before. Two years ago David was with us. He slept in a little arched one man tent and as the weather was hot he was quite comfortable. He talked with a local couple about his English teaching in China and they decided they wanted to do the same. This year they told us all about their experiences in your country. They have just returned from a year in a place about 400 miles inland from the coast, toward Beijing, where the woman taught English at a beautiful middle school for a year and the man took fine photographs of local scenes and of friends and collegues. These were projected on a large screen as they related their experiences.
This camp is remote and we were the only people for miles around. At our camper you could not hear any sound except the wind sighing in the pine trees. and once in a while the quick stitching sound of a jumping grasshopper.
Well -- we're back! :-))) Maryk writing from Canada
