When we got to Whitefish, Marian and her husband Jock Schorger put us to work. They were still trying to live out their back-to-the-land dream. They lived in a small A-frame house back in the woods, with an outhouse for facilities and a pot belly stove that needed 8 cords of wood to see it through the winter. We drove up into the national forest a in flat-bed truck they borrowed from a friend and started loading up. Despite our pose as mighty woodsmen, all Dennis and I did was haul logs on the truck while Jock played out his usual macho role with the chain saw.

Despite my thumbs-up and Marian's triumphant pose atop the woodpile, we all turned out, including Jock and Marian, to be a bunch of silly city-slickers. Come wintertime, the Schorgers learned that they had stacked up a heap of 'pisswood', named for its smell when burned, and reknowned for its rapid burn rate and low heat production. But over the years they learned their lessons, and the back-to-the-land purity wore away in due time anyway. By the time they sold the house nearly 20 years later, it had central heating, indoor plumbing, and a giant family-sized hot tub on the deck.