{"id":36798,"date":"2021-10-13T19:28:48","date_gmt":"2021-10-13T18:28:48","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/jrrtestate.wpengine.com\/cartas\/michael-tolkien-1967-1968\/"},"modified":"2022-02-23T15:19:55","modified_gmt":"2022-02-23T15:19:55","slug":"michael-tolkien-1967-1968","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/www.tolkienestate.com\/es\/cartas\/michael-tolkien-1967-1968\/","title":{"rendered":"Michael Tolkien, 1967-1968"},"content":{"rendered":"<p>[et_pb_section fb_built=\u00bb1&#8243; _builder_version=\u00bb4.6.1&#8243; _module_preset=\u00bbdefault\u00bb background_color=\u00bb#2f3534&#8243; custom_margin=\u00bb||||false|false\u00bb custom_padding=\u00bb0px||0px||false|false\u00bb animation_direction=\u00bbtop\u00bb border_width_bottom=\u00bb1px\u00bb border_color_bottom=\u00bb#4e5956&#8243; saved_tabs=\u00bball\u00bb global_colors_info=\u00bb{}\u00bb][et_pb_row _builder_version=\u00bb4.5.6&#8243; _module_preset=\u00bbdefault\u00bb custom_padding=\u00bb20px||20px||false|false\u00bb global_colors_info=\u00bb{}\u00bb][et_pb_column type=\u00bb4_4&#8243; _builder_version=\u00bb4.5.6&#8243; _module_preset=\u00bbdefault\u00bb global_colors_info=\u00bb{}\u00bb][et_pb_text module_class=\u00bbyoastBC\u00bb _builder_version=\u00bb4.5.6&#8243; _module_preset=\u00bbdefault\u00bb text_font=\u00bb|||on|||||\u00bb text_text_color=\u00bb#9f8d60&#8243; link_text_color=\u00bb#9f8d60&#8243; text_orientation=\u00bbcenter\u00bb global_colors_info=\u00bb{}\u00bb]<span><span><a href=\"https:\/\/www.tolkienestate.com\/es\/\">Home<\/a><\/span><\/span>[\/et_pb_text][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][\/et_pb_section][et_pb_section fb_built=\u00bb1&#8243; _builder_version=\u00bb4.6.1&#8243; _module_preset=\u00bbdefault\u00bb background_color=\u00bb#383e3c\u00bb background_enable_image=\u00bboff\u00bb custom_padding=\u00bb50px||50px||false|false\u00bb global_colors_info=\u00bb{}\u00bb][et_pb_row _builder_version=\u00bb4.5.6&#8243; _module_preset=\u00bbdefault\u00bb global_colors_info=\u00bb{}\u00bb][et_pb_column type=\u00bb4_4&#8243; _builder_version=\u00bb4.5.6&#8243; _module_preset=\u00bbdefault\u00bb global_colors_info=\u00bb{}\u00bb][et_pb_text _builder_version=\u00bb4.6.1&#8243; _dynamic_attributes=\u00bbcontent\u00bb _module_preset=\u00bbdefault\u00bb header_text_align=\u00bbcenter\u00bb header_text_color=\u00bb#ffffff\u00bb header_font_size=\u00bb60px\u00bb header_letter_spacing=\u00bb8px\u00bb width=\u00bb72%\u00bb module_alignment=\u00bbcenter\u00bb header_font_size_tablet=\u00bb40px\u00bb header_font_size_phone=\u00bb\u00bb header_font_size_last_edited=\u00bbon|tablet\u00bb header_letter_spacing_tablet=\u00bb1px\u00bb header_letter_spacing_phone=\u00bb\u00bb header_letter_spacing_last_edited=\u00bbon|tablet\u00bb global_colors_info=\u00bb{}\u00bb]@ET-DC@eyJkeW5hbWljIjp0cnVlLCJjb250ZW50IjoicG9zdF90aXRsZSIsInNldHRpbmdzIjp7ImJlZm9yZSI6IjxoMT4iLCJhZnRlciI6IjwvaDE+In19@[\/et_pb_text][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][\/et_pb_section][et_pb_section fb_built=\u00bb1&#8243; _builder_version=\u00bb4.5.6&#8243; _module_preset=\u00bbdefault\u00bb background_color=\u00bb#f7f7f1&#8243; global_colors_info=\u00bb{}\u00bb][et_pb_row _builder_version=\u00bb4.5.6&#8243; _module_preset=\u00bbdefault\u00bb global_colors_info=\u00bb{}\u00bb][et_pb_column type=\u00bb4_4&#8243; _builder_version=\u00bb4.5.6&#8243; _module_preset=\u00bbdefault\u00bb global_colors_info=\u00bb{}\u00bb][et_pb_text _builder_version=\u00bb4.9.4&#8243; text_font_size=\u00bb20px\u00bb text_line_height=\u00bb1.6em\u00bb link_text_color=\u00bb#9f8d60&#8243; width=\u00bb66%\u00bb width_tablet=\u00bb100%\u00bb width_phone=\u00bb\u00bb width_last_edited=\u00bbon|tablet\u00bb module_alignment=\u00bbcenter\u00bb locked=\u00bboff\u00bb global_colors_info=\u00bb{}\u00bb]<\/p>\n<p>\u2018The hobbit\u2019s (Bilbo\u2019s) journey from Rivendell to the other side of the Misty Mountains, including the glissade down the slithering stones into the pine woods, is based on my adventures in 1911\u2019.<\/p>\n<p>[\/et_pb_text][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][\/et_pb_section][et_pb_section fb_built=\u00bb1&#8243; _builder_version=\u00bb4.5.6&#8243; _module_preset=\u00bbdefault\u00bb global_colors_info=\u00bb{}\u00bb][et_pb_row _builder_version=\u00bb4.6.1&#8243; width=\u00bb50%\u00bb width_tablet=\u00bb80%\u00bb width_phone=\u00bb\u00bb width_last_edited=\u00bbon|tablet\u00bb locked=\u00bboff\u00bb global_colors_info=\u00bb{}\u00bb][et_pb_column type=\u00bb4_4&#8243; _builder_version=\u00bb4.3.4&#8243; global_colors_info=\u00bb{}\u00bb][et_pb_text _builder_version=\u00bb4.9.4&#8243; text_line_height=\u00bb1.9em\u00bb quote_font=\u00bb||||||||\u00bb module_alignment=\u00bbcenter\u00bb global_colors_info=\u00bb{}\u00bb]<\/p>\n<p>I am\u2026delighted that you have made the acquaintance of Switzerland, and of the very part that I once knew best and which had the deepest effect on me. The hobbit\u2019s (Bilbo\u2019s) journey from Rivendell to the other side of the Misty Mountains, including the glissade down the slithering stones into the pine woods, is based on my adventures in 1911: the annus mirabilis of sunshine in which there was virtually no rain between April and the end of October, except on the eve and morning of George V\u2019s coronation. (Adfuit Omen!)<\/p>\n<p>Our wanderings mainly on foot in a party of 12 are not now clear in sequence, but leave many vivid pictures as clear as yesterday (that is as clear as an old man\u2019s remoter memories become). We went of foot carrying great packs practically all the way from Interlaken, mainly by mountain paths, to Lauterbrunnen and so to M\u00fcrren and eventually to the head of the Lauterbrunnenthal in a wilderness of morains. We slept rough \u2013 the men-folk \u2013 often in hayloft or cowbyre, since we were walking by map and avoided roads and never booked, and after a meagre breakfast fed ourselves in the open: cooking utensils and quantities of \u2018spridvin\u2019 (as the one uneducated French-speaking member of the party both called and wrote it, for \u2018methylated spirit\u2019). We must then have gone eastward over the two Scheidegge to Grindelwald, with Eiger and M\u00f6nch on our right, and eventually reached Meiringen. I left the view of Jungfrau with deep regret: eternal snow, etched as it seemed against eternal sunshine, and the Silberhorn sharp against dark blue: the Silvertine (Celebdil) of my dreams. We later crossed the Grimsell Pass down on to the dusty highway, beside the Rh\u00f4ne, on which horse \u2018diligences\u2019 still plied: but not for us. We reached Brig on foot, a mere memory of noise: then a network of trams that screeched on their rails for it seemed at least 20 hrs of the day. After a night of that we climbed up some thousands of feet to a village at the foot of the Aletsch glacier, and there spent some nights in a ch\u00e2let inn under a roof and in beds (or rather under them: the bett being a shapeless bag under which you snuggled). I can remember several incidents there! One was going to confession in Latin; others less exemplary were the invention of a method of dealing with your friends the harvestmen spiders, by dropping hot wax from a candle onto their fat bodies (this was not approved of by the servants); also the practice of the beaver-game which had always fascinated me. A wonderful place for the game, plenty of water at that altitude coming down in rills, abundant damming material in loose stones, heather, grass and mud. We soon had a beautiful little \u2018pond\u2019 (containing I guess at least 200 gallons). Then the pangs of hunger smote us, and one of the hobbits off the party (he is still alive) shouted \u2018lunch\u2019 and wrecked the dam with his alpenstock. The water soared down the hill-side, and we then observed that we had dammed a rill that ran down to feed the tanks and butts behind the inn. At that moment an old dame trotted out with a bucket to fetch some water, and was greeted by a mass of foaming water. She dropped the bucket and fled calling on the saints. We lay more doggo than \u2018men of the moss-hags\u2019 for some time, and eventually wound our way round to present ourselves grubby (but we were usually so on that trip) and sweetly innocent at \u2018lunch\u2019. One day we went on a long march with guides up the Aletsch glacier \u2013 when I came near to perishing. We had guides, but either the effects of the hot summer were beyond their experience, or they did not much care, or we were late in starting. Any way at noon we were strung out in file along a narrow track with a snow-slope on the right going up to the horizon, and on the left a plunge down into a ravine. The summer of that year had melted away much snow, and stones and boulders were exposed that (I suppose) were normally covered. The heat of the day continued the melting and we were alarmed to see many of them starting to roll down the slope at gathering speed: anything from the size of oranges to large footballs, and a few much larger. They were whizzing across our path and plunging into the ravine. \u2018Hard pounding, ladies and gentlemen.\u2019 They started slowly, and then usually held a straight line of descent, but the path was rough and one had also to keep an eye on one\u2019s feet. I remember the member of the party just in front of me (an elderly schoolmistress) gave a sudden squeak and jumped forward as a large lump of rock shot between us. About a foot at most before my unmanly knees. After this we went on into Valais, and my memories are less clear; though I remember our arrival, bedraggled, one evening in Zermatt and the lorgnette stares of the French bourgeoises dames. We climbed with guides up to [a] high hut of the Alpine Club, roped (or I should have fallen into a snow-crevasse), and I remember the dazzling whiteness of the tumbled snow-desert between us and the black horn of the Matterhorn some miles away.<\/p>\n<p>[\/et_pb_text][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][\/et_pb_section]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p><span><span><a href=\"https:\/\/www.tolkienestate.com\/es\/\">Home<\/a><\/span><\/span>\u2018The hobbit\u2019s (Bilbo\u2019s) journey from Rivendell to the other side of the Misty Mountains, including the glissade down the slithering stones into the pine woods, is based on my adventures in 1911\u2019.I am\u2026delighted that you have made the acquaintance of Switzerland, and of the very part that I once knew best and which had the [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":33981,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"on","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-36798","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"yoast_head":"<!-- This site is optimized with the Yoast SEO plugin v28.4 - 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