Where's Armand?

The Cowboy Bar, Revisited

Tomas and Ann are in Jackson Hole today and found the Cowboy Bar that Armand described. It is now famously known as The Million Dollar Cowboy Bar! The old bar burned down and once rebuilt, was renamed for all it's worth!

Tomas stands in his orange shirt, looking as though he's ready for a gunfight. He doesn't have it in him folks. I suspect he "bellied up to the bar" for a cold one in honor of Armand!

Looking Beyond the Sermon

In the summer of 1941, Armand and Mary took a road trip to Mexico and saw many of the sites that only a few months earlier, Armand feared he might never see again. The young couple drove hundreds of miles, hiked up and down mountains and canyons, in and out of assorted weather patterns. They stopped in awe of a herd of buffalo and respectfully, for a moose and her calf along the side of a deserted stretch of road. They slept in cabins and "under the stars and evergreens (and some sprinkles) near Jenny Lake in our sleeping bags."

By June 28, 1941, they were in Wyoming and came upon "the lovely rustic, simple chapel of the Transfiguration on way to Jackson. Back of the altar is large picture window, looking directly at Tetons. Lovely view and unusual (if somewhat pagan) idea for a church. At least, if sermon is boring, you can look at good mountain view!"

What captivates me even more than the details of this long and scenic journey, is the evolving relationship between Armand and Mary, his wife of less than a year. The man who once languished with desire for her love and hand in marriage, now amused her with his quips ("carrying a pack makes me hunch-packed"), rebutted her quotes (if only in his diary) and fed her a concoction of hoaxes:

June 29, 1941. This A.M. we passed by side of road a big wooden box, suspended on chain attached to moveable wooden arm. The box was off ground- probably to keep animals out of milk, etc., placed in it. Mary, though, feels it is a mail box and kept off ground to keep children from stealing mail!!! They sure must have naughty children in Wyoming and, to parody Finney, "as if you had to go to all that trouble to fool children". However, the whole suggestion on the part of my wife is very revealing as to the current state of her mental processes.

Monday, June 30. 185 miles to Grand Lake. Pauvre Mary- she believed the following: that the reason why little prairie gophers are always running across the road (often to their sorrow) is because they live on east side of road and eat food that is on west side - since east side of western roads has softer ground (caused by sun's rays) and thus easier to dig holes in, and hard west side is better suited for their food. But, the question remains: why do they cross the road?

Further along in Volume IV of his diaries, Armand writes: I was just thinking about all the famous hoaxes and and phoney stories I've pulled on poor Polly these last few years...beginning with the quote about Narcissus...then there was the explanation of why the little prairie gophers out west always run from the left side of the road to the right (a fact that I established by power of suggestion!)... from May 6 to May 21, 1944, I made a list of 7 more hoaxes (jotted down as they were swallowed)...

Polly, was one of the names Armand called his wife of enduring patience. I wonder if he also made a list of all the names he created for her:

I call my precious "Well Enough" 'cause I won't let her alone.

Photo: Gary Wilson

Looking for Halley's Comet

In 1985, tour companies and cruise lines capitalized on the next appearance of Halley's Comet, due the following year. Armand may have read something similar to this excerpt from the New York Times (April 1985):

"The Sun Line has announced that astronomers and other scientists will be on board as lecturers for eight sailings of the Stella Solaris and Stella Oceanis next January, March and April. March, the line says, ''is the optimum time for viewing Halley's comet in the southern latitudes,'' and among its cruises is one of 19 days leaving Fort Lauderdale, Fla., for Brazil on March 1. The fares, depending on cabin, range from $3,450 to $6,600 a person."

Armand and Mary signed up and sailed. In his 1986 Christmas letter to friends and family, Armand offered this wry recap:

Nominally, a cruise down the Amazon to view Halley's Comet under spectacular conditions, enriched with additions of our own devising to Cuzco and Machu Picchu, Peru, and Iguassu Falls in southeast Brazil. It proved to be spectacular enough, despite torrential rains at Machu Picchu and an eight-month drought that cut way down, water flow at the falls.

The Sun Line's Stella Solaris is a classy ship; aboard were scientists (including Fred Whipple, concocter of the presently held theory that comets are nothing more than big, dirty snowballs), a National Geographic writer, and media star Hugh Downs to set us straight on Halley's; enough rich food to sink the Titanic and entertainment to make us forget the sinking; and numerous great shore excursions.

But comets, travel brochure hype to the contrary notwithstanding, aren't well viewed from the moist, cloudy Amazon basin, as the ship management must have known and innocents such as we should have realized. We did get one fair look, later, on the Caribbean island of Trinidad...and a good one, on a bitter cold (20 degrees F, and high winds) predawn March morning, from a hill just outside Morgantown.

Comet aside, it was still a fabulous trip. But hey, let's face it: that there comet has sadly come down in the universe since its long-ago debut. We simply refuse to shell out for its next appearance in 2061.

Illustration: Maritime Matters

Armand's mention of the Titanic might have also been in reference to the 1986 movie, Secrets of the Titanic.

The Stella Solaris is today on the Gulf of Cambay, a cruiseliner graveyard.

On a 40,000 Mile Plane Trip

The year was 1971 when Armand and Mary, a travel agency's dream team, went on tour for the summer:

We took a forty-thousand mile plane trip last summer, touching down at various and sundry islands all over the South Pacific. Especially wonderful were Bora Bora, James Michener's Bali Hai, an island he called the most beautiful in the world; Western Samoa, where we stayed at Aggie Grey's as hospitable and lovely a hotel as the advertisements claim; Nuku Alofa, capital of Tonga, home of the gentle grifters, but still very much worth visiting; Fiji, where we spent several days on an island in one of those beach hotels - you step right out of your room into the coral waters.

We spent a week and a half in New Zealand, mostly in the southern island, among the fjords and mountains including Milford Sound and Mt. Cook, both of which we'd rate with the most spectacular scenic areas in the world. We went through a glow worm cave, but this you have to see to believe.

A month in Australia allowed us to do most the continent, including an assortment of outback scenery, koala bears, kangaroos, the giant karri tree of the southwest tip of the country, the Great Barrier Reef, and a train trip of three days across the endless Nullarbor Plains (a desert with one stretch where the train track is absolutely straight for three hundred miles).

Then New Guinea, as primitive as Australia is modern. We are glad to report that the head hunters proved friendly, though they do look a bit on the fierce side. Java and Bali meant millennial Hindu-Buddhist temple ruins, lovely dancers, and underdressed "topless" girls. Bangkok was unique with its temples and canals or klongs.

We finished off the Pacific Odyssey with a week in Japan: Tokyo, Kyoto, Nikko and Fuji. The mountain remained behind cloud or smog the whole time, but Nikko had brilliant weather to grace the beauties of its shrine, Kyoto's gardens and geisha party and sukiyaki dinner (except for the intricacies of handling chopsticks) were no let down, and Tokyo is quite a megalopolis by any standard.

Mary had enough travelling by then, but Armand went out to Utah, Arizona and New Mexico, ostensibly to visit relatives, but also to attempt to cross the Grand Canyon on foot from the North to the South Rim. It was touch-and-not go for a while in the 120 degree heat but he made the twenty-four miles in fifteen hours, and still cannot quite figure out how.

Photo: Craig

Prudhoe Bay, Alaska - July 2001

Armand wrote annual Christmas letters to friends and family for forty-four years! His Christmas Chronicle #39 gave details of his trip with Mary, to the Arctic Ocean: by car from Morgantown, WV. Armand was then 86 and Mary, 89. This is a lengthy post, but then so was the trip!

We're preprogrammed to travel, we two, but didn't grace so many spots as last year (six big ones). Just two: Hawaii in February- our annual rich-in-the-good- stuff visit with daughter Ann and husband Tomas.

Then, the improbable summer July 6 to September 7 drive to the Arctic Ocean (something vaguely on tap for years). There were the incredulous, with raised eyebrows (including mine), but we did it! Wisconsin, Montana, Alberta, British Columbia, Yukon Territory and Alaska. Put our hands in the icy waters July 24, Prudhoe Bay Oil Field, just 8 miles north of Deadhorse, AK (the last 8 is company land and you get there by guided tour).

The layout is impressive, whether you're pro or con extracting Arctic oil. There starts the 800-mile pipeline south to Valdez, itself an engineering marvel- pressure, temperature, consistency, what you could call "pipeline plaque" are all taken care of.

Anyway, it impressed me, and I've written my share of angry letters to Congress and President condemning the rape of the wilderness. (Note: if you enjoy cheaper gas, be glad no one listened to the lot of us).

The last 450 miles lie over a dangerous dirt and gravel road known to have punctured three tires in one 20-mile stretch (we heard). You have to have 2 wheels with tires, not just the usual spare, if you must do it.

We were lucky. The extra set of wheel and tire I bought in Fairbanks I resold unscathed, at a discount, once back on pavement. Some weren't so fortunate- we saw an RV in the ditch, on its side, badly caved in. No garages or gas for some two hundred miles.

Morgantown to the Ocean ca. 5,500 miles. The odometer actually read 13,850 by the time we got back (851 miles on the last day from Independence, MO) but we did a lot of detouring all over Alaska. Add five bush planes we hired for flights to spectacular places (notably Mt. Logan, at 19,850' the highest in Canada, located deep within Yukon Territory's Kluane National Park, which has no roads inside it, and Mt. McKinley, at 20,320', the nation's highest, which we flew over, sucking oxygen).

I took pictures galore, as pen or mouth can't begin to do these endless ranks of ice and snow, and precipitous rock any kind of justice. Suffiseth to say, they rival the Himalayas in beauty and height (remember, the bases are much lower with the North American peaks).

We finally reached Vancouver, after a week near Banff, Alberta, where we met up with Tomas' family reunion and had a grand old time. Mary begged off but I even got to do a raft trip down the roaring Kicking Horse River; we didn't overturn or get tossed overboard, but several of us jumped into the icy waters (we had on wet suits, etc.) to see what it would feel like. I did it because the others were half my age or less. Not the best of choices. I've been wetter and colder, but never before at the same time. Looks good on my CV, I hope!

Armand and Mary then drove to Vancouver where Annie and I met them to board a cruise ship for a trip up the southwest coast of Alaska. The octogenarians stayed up every night while we 'younger ones' retired (!!) to our rooms. Back in port, we said goodbye to the hardy couple. After a night or two in Vancouver, they drove back to West Virginia. I remember that it took me three to five days before I got my balance back.

In Armand's words:
Then home via Rocky Mt. National Park, where we've been paying pilgrimage off and on for 61 years (in my case, 72). We always have a picnic at Dream Lake, a hike of 2 miles RT., and an elevation of over 10,000'. Well, we made it, never mind how long it took. We also hiked a bit at 12,000'. This whole journey was meant as a sort of recap of all the trips we've done for sixty-one years. Revisited more than a few places we've loved over time; hikes, views, experiences. I think it did both of us a lot of good. Just maybe we can still try one more run down memory lane.

Map: csmonitor.com

Markings

On May 17, 1974, Armand, then nearly sixty years old, was at Tesi Lapcha, Nepal. In his book, A Catalog of Himalayan Mountaineering Correspondence, Armand included a copy of a letter he addressed to himself while he was 19,000 feet high, up in the pass known as Teshi (Tesi) Lapcha. He mailed it to himself in order to obtain the postmark and commemorate his climbing feat.

On the same page, he also has a copy of a letter from Sir Edmund Hillary dated September 27, 1974 in which Hillary congratulates Armand for reaching the pass: "...impressed at your endurance and determination." Little did Sir Hillary know that those traits of Armand's would continue for another 33 years.

The acts of journalling and sending himself postcards from all over the world appear as though Armand was marking his way through life. Marking, either as a testament to where he had been, or where he had yet to go.

It brought to mind another inveterate diarist, Dag Hammarskjold, whose only book Markings, was a collection of his diaries from 1925, when he was 20 years old, and ends at his death in 1961. A quote from the book, describes both men:

Never, "for the sake of peace and quiet," deny your own experience or convictions.

If I may add: ...but leave your markings along the way, for the sake of peace and quiet in those who follow.

Do You Have Reservations, Sir?

In response to last week's Armand News, Ann the Daughter noted:

Actually, he broke those ribs in his Las Vegas hotel room the night before he gave that speech! He was sitting on the edge of the bathtub to cut his toe nails when he pitched forward and fell into the sink and his fall was apparently broken by the fact that the toilet was in the way!

He "gave up" that bit of information in the hospital the last time because his surgeon remarked that a chest X-ray taken post surgery, showed a fairly recent break in 2 ribs and he had to admit to falling to explain that finding to the doctors! HONESTLY!

Since he was in a mood to admit to things he had forgotten to tell....That same day he admitted that he had also had a little "incident" in Chile the month after the Las Vegas trip. Apparently, he had fainted while on one of the hikes and refused treatment that day. However, the day they were to leave Torres del Paine, he was not feeling well at all and finally agreed to be taken to the hospital before his flight. So, they sent a car for him in advance of the group descent to Punta Arenas and he was checked out in the hospital and given a GREEN LIGHT (nothing unearthed at all) to fly home that night as planned!

He had a habit of "accidentally forgetting" to mention little things like that to me!

I concocted a theory last year that might have explained Armand's vivacity and asked him, "Do you make reservations in advance for your road trips? Is it your planning for the future that propels you?"

"Oh no," he said, "I never know when I'm gonna stop!"

Photo: New Kicks on Route 66.

He's Landed Safely

 

Armand Singer officially passed this life at 2:15am EST today, July 12. As soon as I learn of any memorial services, I will post them here.

In the meantime, I'm going to blow out the candles and turn up the music. Armand went out listening to his favorite jazz tunes on an iPod..."with it" until the end.

Aloha my friend!

Envisioning

Armand took this picture of his wife Mary and daughter Ann (dancing a jig) atop Mt. Vesuvius. This is the photo that Armand mentioned when I spoke to him on Ann's birthday and he went to great lengths to have the photo scanned and sent to me in all its kilobyte splendor.

It is an amazing thing that a photo taken so long ago (sorry, Annie!) can be copied and scrambled into memory bytes, sent thousands of miles away to be reassembled...only to be wadded up again and sent over and over to all of you. Yet in Armand's mind, it remains clear and constant. I guess the aperture to a father's heart never closes.

Mondo's looking forward to his talk in Pittsburgh on the 30th of this month and is also working on a revision of an earlier exposition. I had to stand up on my toes and listen brightly as he mentioned Cam us and Sartre, for they are no longer on my bookshelves, nor did I ever have an intelligible opinion of them. I can only hope that my asking "...and where does Nietzche fit in here", will keep me in good stead with Professor Singer.

Phew! I stand down.

Mt. Vesuvius: live webcam shots. 

Safe and Sound!

Armand returned to West Virginia this past Saturday after 4 nights and 5 days at the Parque Nacional Torres del Paine in Chile.

"I've been wanting to go there for the past 30 years! The mountains are not only beautiful, they look almost as though they were composed on a computer. This is an area given to rain, mist, snow and Antarctic winds so the scene always changes."

Armand stayed in a lodge located some five hours away from Punta Arenas. He had a view of the mountains, had a chance for some walks, an excursion to Grey Lake, and met wonderful people from England, America, Canada, Norway and the Netherlands.

Barely unpacked, he headed to the movies on Sunday. " Dreamgirls was a bit clumsy in places but the singing sure made up for it. It'll lift you right out of your seat! Then I saw a movie by Pedro Almodovar called Volver. A strange movie it was, but that Penelope Cruz, she just makes me want to be young again!"

Hurray for Penelope! Next week, I'll fill you in on Armand's next adventure.

I told him about my hotel fire story and my fears that he might have been one of the tourist fatalities. Armand matter of factly replied, "Well, I wasn't one of them."

Photo: First Premium Travel