A wonderful view of the valley and Whistle Mountain from the air! BabyJane and I were flying like eagles. BabyJane's hang-glider was red, and mine was blue. The vertical air current caused by the hot spring carried us up two thousand meters. Surprisingly the top of Whistle Mountain was lower than we were.
We played in flight, turned, and 'danced'. I felt free as the birds. When we needed to go higher, we used the rising air from the hot water. The flying teacher had explained to us that the mountain ring had several hot springs, and by flying from the first to the second and so forth, it was possible visit the whole valley by air.. He gave us a map that showed the location of the other hot springs.
Learning to use the hang-glider had not been hard. and we had spent an entire afternoon practicing takeoffs, landings, turning, and climbing.
Today, we started the flight earlier than usual, and flew in circles in the rising air current until we were high enough to fly to another 'elevator'. I saw the bottom of the valley, and the several cars in the road were like many coloured ants. I could only hear the hiss of the air supporting my wing, I also saw our two shadows on the slope of Whistle Mountain, since the sun was still low.
A falcon flew near us and looked at us curiously. It whistled some whistles like the whistles of the falcon that I had heard when I found my flint. And I wondered whether the whistling of the bird meant something to Casleun speakers. I intend to ask John about this.
(I subsequently asked John about this, and he told me that yes, the birds sometimes produce Casleun melodies, but the birds speak nonsense. John had never heard a bird say anything interesting to him)
At noon we landed at another inn, and this also was located at a hot spring, so we could take off again there. We were quite tired from the flight, and decided to stay there that night, and leave again the next day. We ate the noon meal, and remained a long time at the table, drinking wine.
The hot spring near the inn was very interesting. The water was surprisingly 10 degrees C hotter than the water of the first inn, and near the boiling point. The rock from which the water flowed was also carved into a dragon, However, the water issued not from the mouth, but the anus. And that was completely appropriate because it was mixed with sulfur, and the odor was disgusting. We were told it was really good for our health. In fact I quickly became adjusted to the odor, but BabyJane wrinkled her nose a long time and said Yukk.
Because of the sulfur and all the other chemicals dissolved in the water, the sides of the pools for bathing were yellow and white, with smooth round forms like cauliflower. Thus it was very comfortable to recline on the rock, like reclining on a pillow.
After the bathing, we sat in the garden of the inn, and watched all the people gathered there to play marbles. They were not children, but adults, and very expert players. I was surprised. Was this an old local traditional game? I asked a man sitting near us.
"No. In fact we found out about this game in 1991, when the Word Making Group made the word 'marble' . We asked the Word Making Group to send us the rules of the marble game." He spoke Loglan with a Whistle Mountain accent, and explained the game in a friendly and musical way, and showed me his marble set.
"Marbles" he said,"is both a game and an art. The object is to collect a matched set of marbles that are exactly alike. For example, I am now collecting a matched set of blue glass marbles. I had completely colllected a matched set of white marble balls."
He opened a small leather case, and exhibited 12 marble balls whose colors and size were perfectly identical. They were lined up in the velvet interior of the case. He said
"Don't you feel that they're the most beautiful thing? They are like big pearls, aren't they?"
He opened another case, containing a dozen glass balls. Inside all the balls was something like a blue cloud. Their colour was also very beautiful.
"Anyone that collects glass balls" he explained "looks for a set of balls whose colours are the same, but their internal forms represent a special matched set whose forms are different and related.; We call this the 'family'. Look. This ball is the father.
He showed me a ball whose cloud had a large,pointed shape.
"However, my mother ball," he continued, is not perfect. Its cloud is very small in size, and not perfectly round. I hope today that I will win a perfect 'mother' from my friend Bob."
"That will not be easy, however" ,he said, "Bob is a very expert marble player, and wants to win my 'father', which I won from him in the last match.
"Good luck", I said. We sat with him, whose name was Steve, and drank wine, until he started his match with Bob.
I looked at the match with interest, and, alas, Steve did not win the 'mother' from Bob, however, he again lost the 'father' and two 'children'. Steve laughed and threatened "You!, watch out at the next marble match (warningly)
BabyJane and I walked in the garden, and looked at the many other marble sets on display. They were really works of art. And some were made of green rock streaked with golden veins, and some were made of perfectly clear quartz crystals. And some glass ones contained small sculptures. And all the owners lovingly polished them, and happily showed them to us.
The next day, we continued our flight. Unfortunately, when we stopped at an inn for the noon meal, I landed clumsily, and my ankle was twisted violently so the tendon was torn. I was in pain, and could not walk.