Armand was alone for hours, sometimes for days. When he had some time off from his fire lookout duties he would replenish supplies, pickup his mail, go hiking, or visit other lookouts.
His diary was his constant companion. It received all of his gripes, observations, puns and limericks, and strictly offered verbatim playback. It offered no opinions or judgements and that's possibly why Armand was so devoted to it. Evidence: a few excerpts from The Armand Diaries, Volume IV, August 1944:
Two horrible puns by me: (1) "Well," yawned the gay young thing from ennui, "I'd like to catch 40 winks ----from those sailors across the street." (2) "Some family hair looms in the soup, eh?" observed the guest to his hostess.
To get along well camping in woods requires one to be a jack of many, if not all, trades: need to be a bit of a carpenter; know something of plants, trees, wildlife in general; know weather signs; be able to cook appetizingly as well as healthfully (nutrition, i.e.); be handy with axe and hatchet (ugh!); be able to build fires well and swiftly; be a bit of a doctor and minor surgeon - first aid; be able to sew adequately if not beautifully; and so on. Me, I'm perfect, of course.
On Thursday eve, around 9, I heard a whole pack of dogs, or so it seemed, yelping and howling, etc. Sounded somewhat like children imitating dogs. Early in morn, before rising, I've heard the noises before. Heard them again later that night and early next morn. Called Paul Judge at nine to ask information on origin of what I decided to all an infernal ululation and unholy damned din. Said Paul, "Coyotes".
I had thought they only hung around the prairies, but he said they were found in woods too. Sure enough, my Naturalists' Guide to Teton Park says they're occasionally seen at all altitudes. Paul says a few of them will make enough racket to sound like a whole bunch.
Got to thinking about the joke concerning the typically dumb Englishman watching a man's Victory Garden. "My that's a huge garden you have," he observed. "How do you manage to eat all it produces?"
"Oh," answered the gardener, "we eat what we can, and what we can't, we can." The Englishman smiled fatuously.
Later, telling the remark to his wife, he explained: "Haw, these funny Americans, he said they ate what they could and what they couldn't, they could!"
Visited with Ken Bick and family in his cabin-tent at Jenny Lake till dark, then he drove me up to end of main road. They're a very nice, "salt of the earth" family - funny, and my first reaction when I met him June 10 was aversion. But I was way wrong.
Ken Bick told how, during our June fire school, a short guy from forest service was talking to Harold Rapp (6 feet 10 inches up). "So they call you Timberline, eh? Guess they'll have to call me Bedrock."
Gosh, I've been getting lonely lately - especially just before I turn in for the night - when the wind's quiet, animals silent, stars coming out, and I feel so damned alone.
His diary was his constant companion. It received all of his gripes, observations, puns and limericks, and strictly offered verbatim playback. It offered no opinions or judgements and that's possibly why Armand was so devoted to it. Evidence: a few excerpts from The Armand Diaries, Volume IV, August 1944:
Two horrible puns by me: (1) "Well," yawned the gay young thing from ennui, "I'd like to catch 40 winks ----from those sailors across the street." (2) "Some family hair looms in the soup, eh?" observed the guest to his hostess.
To get along well camping in woods requires one to be a jack of many, if not all, trades: need to be a bit of a carpenter; know something of plants, trees, wildlife in general; know weather signs; be able to cook appetizingly as well as healthfully (nutrition, i.e.); be handy with axe and hatchet (ugh!); be able to build fires well and swiftly; be a bit of a doctor and minor surgeon - first aid; be able to sew adequately if not beautifully; and so on. Me, I'm perfect, of course.
On Thursday eve, around 9, I heard a whole pack of dogs, or so it seemed, yelping and howling, etc. Sounded somewhat like children imitating dogs. Early in morn, before rising, I've heard the noises before. Heard them again later that night and early next morn. Called Paul Judge at nine to ask information on origin of what I decided to all an infernal ululation and unholy damned din. Said Paul, "Coyotes".
I had thought they only hung around the prairies, but he said they were found in woods too. Sure enough, my Naturalists' Guide to Teton Park says they're occasionally seen at all altitudes. Paul says a few of them will make enough racket to sound like a whole bunch.
Got to thinking about the joke concerning the typically dumb Englishman watching a man's Victory Garden. "My that's a huge garden you have," he observed. "How do you manage to eat all it produces?"
"Oh," answered the gardener, "we eat what we can, and what we can't, we can." The Englishman smiled fatuously.
Later, telling the remark to his wife, he explained: "Haw, these funny Americans, he said they ate what they could and what they couldn't, they could!"
Visited with Ken Bick and family in his cabin-tent at Jenny Lake till dark, then he drove me up to end of main road. They're a very nice, "salt of the earth" family - funny, and my first reaction when I met him June 10 was aversion. But I was way wrong.
Ken Bick told how, during our June fire school, a short guy from forest service was talking to Harold Rapp (6 feet 10 inches up). "So they call you Timberline, eh? Guess they'll have to call me Bedrock."
Gosh, I've been getting lonely lately - especially just before I turn in for the night - when the wind's quiet, animals silent, stars coming out, and I feel so damned alone.
Photo: PrASanGaM