The log book

This weekend I went camping on the long trail in the breath taking mountains of Vermont. It was my first experience with the outing club and the wilderness of Vermont. The place that we camped at was a beautiful hut overlooking everything all the way to the Adirondack mountains. In this hut lay a notebook log of all of the hikers/campers that had stayed at the same hut. It was really amazing to read a first person account of the history of the place that we were staying. In one account a women moaned about french Canadians, while in another some one wrote a violent poem about revolution.
In the first log entry I read there was a women that was obviously hiking by herself and stayed a night with a group of eight french Canadian women, that apparently would not stop jabbering in french. The women kept repeating how foreigners get to her, and how she could not stand the consistent jabbering in another language. The part that I really found interesting about this entry was that later in the log the women wrote a p.s. basically about how much French Canadians get to her. I think I enjoyed reading this log entry so much because through the ladies writing I could imagine how she talked, looked, and even her beliefs. The best part about being able to imagine all of those things is that, I knew that this women, that had a strong distaste for French Canadians was really out in the world some where. I am not sure why that is so appealing, because I don't think that I would get along with the women writing but I like to imagine her through the writing. Also acknowledging that I have slept in the same place as her.
The second entry that was extremely interesting was an entry in which someone wrote a poem involving Molotov cock tails made from nalgene water bottles, some how relating to some sort of revolution. This article left so much room for the imagination to wander. I could either go about dissecting this article in a cynical way, by thinking the poem is just silly and disregarding the weird content. Or I could dissect the poem and truly imagine what this person was like. So I took the second method and imagined a whole story about the deranged person that wrote the poem(even though the person was most likely not deranged).
Finally I do not why I felt that these a accounts of different people were so interesting. Maybe it is because I was just board in the woods and was letting my imagination wander. Or may it was because I really did like reading the history of the 1930's hut that I was staying in. Either way if you ever go camping and stay in some sort of shelter I recommend reading the log book.