Page 9 of Falling for the Hotshot

“Let’s load the supplies in here, and I’ll pull this up the mountain behind me. It’s got a little power to it, and it doesn’t roll backwards.” My eyes widened looking at the wagon and the war that was the uphill mountain before us. It wasn’t incredibly steep or anything, but it was surely going to take us some time to get to.

The first few minutes of the hike, I wanted to turn back. I was sweating, huffing and puffing, and by all accounts, fighting for my life. Kerry seemed as cool as a cucumber.

“It gets easier as we go up, believe it or not.” I didn’t believe her, but she was right. A breeze picked up, and the terrain flattened. We were always on a foot trail, but that started to wrap around the hills instead of going straight up. And, before I knew it, it was over.

Once we made it to the base, I saw that the surrounding ground had been cleared from trees, and a patch of green grass grew below it. In a forest full of pinecones, pine needles and brown mulched ground, the green felt misplaced. It felt almost funny to me. Small sprigs of wildflowers poked up throughout the grass.

Peering up at the tower, the cases of water alone seemed impossible to carry up the stairs… that were so steep, they may as well have been ladders. I shuddered seeing them.

“Let me go in and get the pulley system,” she said, relieving my worries instantly. “Oh, before I do, let me show you the facilities.” She had a smirk on her face as she walked me to a small outhouse, complete with a wooden door that had a cutout of a crescent moon on it. “In here is a very glamorous vault toilet,” she sneered. “I know it’s not the greatest, but believe it or not, it’s pretty clean.” I took her word on that, not feeling brave enough to look in just yet, though my bladder was hinting that the time may be closer than I wanted it to be. “There is also a little sun shower set up over here.” She led me around the back of it, where it had a small enclosure with a wooden floor. “You just put water in this bag. Let the sun heat it up. See?” She pointed to the contraption that was just a few inches taller than me. I was excited for the prospect of regular showers, though with my limited water rations, I didn’t know how regular they would be.

“Thanks, Kerry. Had I known this, I would have brought more water.” I gave her a goofy smile as a forewarning that I might not have been in the greatest shape for my monthly ration pickups. She already explained to me this morning that she would be the one carting me to and from the nearest grocery store, about an hour away.

“We have some rations down here, left by the previous firewatcher to use.” I was relieved to see the sight of several jugs of water next to the shower. “You can also collect rainwater in this tank to use for showers,” she beamed, as she showed me a trough with a lid on it, having thought of everything. “Though I can’t promise much rain, as we are in a severe drought. At least, it’s something. Now, where was I? Oh! We have to get all of that stuff up there.” As she took to the ladder-like staircase of Tower 3, using both her legs and arms to climb them, I found myself counting the steps until I lost count. It was very, very tall. A terrible time to remember I didn’t like heights.

“I’ll just… wait down here,” I said, the fear in my voice obvious to Kerry, who laughed it off.

“Once you see the view, nothing else will matter. I promise.” I rolled her sentence around in my head, mulling it over. Right now, I could only see what was in front of me—trees so thick, that if someone were to walk into them, they may never have come out of the other side. That was also how I felt in my day-to-day life, though. How much worse could I have really felt a hundred feet off the ground? If it even was that tall. I’d been known to exaggerate. I bent my head all the way back, looking up at the tower in awe. What had I really imagined when I took a job as a firewatcher, though?

A few minutes later, after Kerry disappeared inside of Tower Three, a wooden board that looked like a tree swing slowly lowered down under the tower. This must have been the pulley system. I grabbed a box of something light, unsure how much weight it could hold at first, starting with my boxes of instant maple cinnamon oatmeal and dehydrated camp meals.

“Load me up,” Kerry hollered, after I set the box on the wooden planks.

“Everything else I have is pretty heavy,” I hollered back.

“That’s okay. The pulleys take a lot of the weight off of the person. Just put as much stuff as you can on it, and you can come help me pull it if you have too.” I followed her instructions and took off the first box, and started with my heaviest items. Suitcase, stocked with some books and a Bible. Heavy duty boots. A Swiss army knife that I got as a kid at a pawn shop. Other camp gear that felt appropriate for this adventure.

Then, I went for the duffel back. Clothing, plus some items that now felt inappropriate, like jewelry. Ridiculous items, like fashion accessories. But then again, I would be getting monthly restocks of goods, so I supposed there was a chance I would want to look like I wasn’t living in a tower without indoor plumbing when I left the fire watch.

“Any other baggage?” Kerry asked.

“Just emotional,” I shrugged, not meaning to be funny. Kerry burst out in a laughter so loud, she snorted, slapping me on the back.

“You are a funny one! You know that?”

“Alright, then. I guess I’ll come up.” I pointed to the building looming above.

“Do you want me to pull you up on the swing?” She snorted again. I shook my head.

“Tempting,” I smiled, knowing I’d rather climb up there with one arm than let someone pull me up. “But I better get used to the ladder. I mean, stairs.”

“It’s really not that bad,” Kerry said, when I was three steps into the climb. She was right; it wasn’t bad. It wasn’t bad until I was at least twenty steps into the climb. Then, at thirty steps, it was a 911 situation.

“Kerry,” I called out, my eyes closed as I hung on the railing for dear life, a gust of dry, hot wind swirling dirt around me.

“You can do it, Autumn. Just a few more steps. You’ve done harder things in life than this—I can tell that about you.” Kerry was right. This was a cakewalk compared to many hurdles I’d recently crossed. That didn’t mean I had any desire to cross this one, though. Then, I remembered I could pray. So, I prayed. I said a short prayer for strength. For bravery in this moment of crippling fear. And a prayer of gratitude for this opportunity to face my fears. The opportunity to be braver. Be stronger. To be whoever I wanted to be at this moment. And after that short prayer, I took another step. Grabbed the step above with my hands, like Kerry had, as I got higher in the trees. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Before I knew it, I was almost to the top. Kerry was smiling when I looked up. And I only looked up. I didn’t let myself look below. Or behind me. I decided then that I wouldn’t benefit from ever looking back again. Not right now, at least. Finally, I was at the top. I was standing on the small porch of the tower. Stepping away from the opening where the stairs came into, Kerry led me to the other side of the porch and told me to look at the view.

As I turned, I saw what Kerry was talking about. Everything she said was true. The view from the top made everything worth the battle of getting up here. Suddenly, things didn’t seem so scary below.

Out in the landscape, my view was endless treetops; their fluffy branches tipped with an abundance of plump pinecones. Some of the trees had hundreds of pinecones just on a single branch tip. As I looked at them in awe, Kerry had said this unusual amount of pinecones was a sign of stress. A sign of the drought.

The sky was as blue as it had ever been on this perfect, cloudless day. The sun was hanging directly in front of the tower, still rising for the day. Still forming for another day of my life. Shining down on both near and far mountain tops and casting a glow on all of the beautiful, feathered birds that flew around God’s creation.

“It’s breathtaking,” I said, a tear forming from the corner of my eye. I had never been overcome with emotion over a landscape. But before I wrote it off as PMS, I considered the fact that I’d never worked for a view like this. Sure, I’d seen gorgeous places in my life. But never from above. Never with higher stakes, such as climbing something to see it. This was a special moment, a special place. And my new home for the next few months or so. Scheduling was variable to weather, as Kerry explained in my phone interview, so I might be here even longer.

“I told you so.” Kerry leaned over the railing of the wraparound porch. I wasn’t feeling that brave yet, but I was able to peel myself away from the view to look inside. Kerry followed.

“You’d think this thing would have a better staircase,” I said to Kerry. She agreed.