Skipping Stones and Broken Bones

Ben and I went for a long hike the other day in the Rigi, which is a mountain that supposedly looks out over all of Switzerland and some of Germany. (Although I can't vouge for that because all I could see was fog.) Despite the cloudy weather, the hike was "Shun" or beautiful. We took the cable car to the top, like all good Swiss people do, then hiked down. On the way down we found caves that we could explore, an old goat transporter, and a 200m waterfall. We also stopped for awhile near the river, and I partook in one of my favorite activities, skipping stones. (I think I could stand at the river for hours doing that, but maybe I am just a nerd.) Then, as we finished our hike, I was walking up the make-shift stairs as Ben told me his Grandfather used to do the same hike, but there were never bridges or stairs over the river canyon. It used to just be two ladders on each side, so everyone had to climb down, walk across the river (or Fjord it of course), and climb back up the other side. I just thanked God for the invention of bridges as I looked at how far it was to the bottom of the canyon.



P.S. We finally won a soccer game, and you are never going to believe this: I scored, but I did not do it with my forehead. (I scored a P.K.) Now, I know exactly what you are thinking, "Why in the heck is Nason taking P.K.'s?" That is what I was thinking as I walked up to the line when the coach called my name, but then I just thought to myself, "Just shoot it like Shannon Lovejoy does, and you will be fine." Gosh, it felt good to win, and now I know why winning tastes so much sweeter when you have been pushed down a few times.