National Geographic : 1955 Jun
848 Georgia Engelhard Cromwell Sweet-toothed Goats, Craving Chocolate Tidbits, Accost a Climber Goats as well as cows summer on Val d'Herens' high mountain pastures. Eaton Cromwell feeds this pair on the stone terrace of a chalet high above the resort town of Arolla. and added a touch of mustard. This was raclette, the Val d'Herens version of rarebit, and a culinary specialty of the region (pages 830 and 842). The children sang and danced together, their treble voices mingling with the tinkling of cowbells and the lowing of cattle. Black skirts swirled and pigtails gleamed in the golden afternoon light. It was like a gay and beautiful dream. Winter Comes to the Val d'Herens But, like a dream, the picnic ended all too soon; blue shadows crept slowly up the hill side, and chilly breezes warned that it was time to descend to Evolene. As we walked down, Lucien said to us sadly: "I know you must be going home to New York, but I wish you would stay. "When you leave, I must give up mountain climbing and go back to my life as a farmer," he added with a wry grin. Inevitably the day of our departure ar rived. A sudden storm brought snow far down on the hillsides. Wind roared through the larch trees, and tormented clouds raced across the Glacier de Ferpecle and the sharp ridges of the Dent Blanche, highest peak of the Val d'Herens (page 839). At the post office we boarded the yellow bus that would take us back to Sion. The Gaudins and the Rumpfs were there to see us off. "Be sure to come again next year," they chorused. "Be sure to write to us from New York." Leaning out of the bus window, we waved at the little group. The women and girls stood proud and erect in their handsome costumes. The driver tooted the bugle notes of his post horn. Then the bus rumbled down the steep, winding road, down into the misty gorge of the Borgne, away from the Val d'Herens, our valley of enchantment.