(I am relocating an old blog to this site)Well, my season at the Waldo Mountain Lookout is rapidly drawing to a close. I am back off the mountain for only the second time in six weeks. Waldo Mountain differs from most fire lookout these days in that it is located in the heart of a 37,000 acre designated wilderness area, three miles from the nearest road and only five miles from the Pacific Crest Trail. At 6,300 feet above sea level it is one of the crown jewels of the Northwest's fire lookout system.
From north to south I gaze upon 150 miles of the Oregon Cascades from 11,000 foot Mt. Hood to the north to 9,00 foot Diamond Peak to the south. Another 150 miles are visible from the heart of the Oregon Coast Range to the west, eastward to the Newberry volcano outside Bend. During the height of the lookout era from the 1930's to the early 1960's over 800 fire lookouts could be found in Oregon. Today only about 200 remain and only about half of those are staffed during the fire season. Unlike Waldo you can drive to most of the remaining lookouts and many are available for overnight rentals from the US Forest Service.
Last week I was standing in the door of the lookout gazing northward along the Pacific Crest toward Mt. Hood and decided that I would not return to Seattle. No, I would just stay on the mountain in a state of eternal summer. Sadly, the wheel of life refuses to cooperate with my desire, a lookout at 6,3000 feet above sea level is the last place I would want to spend the winter!
Harbingers of winter are upon us. The constellation, Orion, rises closer to midnight every night, soon it will dominate the early evening sky. Geese are forming their V in the sky and flying east across Waldo Lake heading for the great North American fly-ways east of the Cascade Mountains.
I seldom feel lonely. Rather the solitude is refreshing and has been a great way to get back in touch with who I am and what I value. Being away from people, cities and television, steeping oneself in the midst of wild nature has a way to put life in a whole new light.
I have learned that elk can make mighty noisy neighbors. The evening of September 12th I grew weary of the war talk on National Public Radio following the tragedies in New York and Washington. I turned-off the radio and went to sit on the south facing catwalk overlooking the Salmon Lakes Basin.
Night was gradually wrapping its comforting arms around the mountains. From below the sound of Salmon Creek made its way to my perch. Suddenly I heard the strangest shrill cry I'd ever heard in the mountains. Then I recalled a conversation I'd had with the Taylor Burn Wilderness Guard a few weeks earlier -- he said that by mid-September the sound of; bull elk bugling, marking the start of mating season; I moved to the north side of the lookout to better hear and sat listening to the ancient call of the wild, while the stars gradually brightened among the growing dark. Suddenly a meteor streaked against the band of the Milky Way, the elk bugled again; Then in the dark a formless creature flew by the lookout, the elk bugled, an owl hooted.
I seldom feel lonely. Rather the solitude is refreshing and has been a great way to get back in touch with who I am and what I value. Being away from people, cities and television, steeping oneself in the midst of wild nature has a way to put life in a whole new light.
I have learned that elk can make mighty noisy neighbors. The evening of September 12th I grew weary of the war talk on National Public Radio following the tragedies in New York and Washington. I turned-off the radio and went to sit on the south facing catwalk overlooking the Salmon Lakes Basin.
Night was gradually wrapping its comforting arms around the mountains. From below the sound of Salmon Creek made its way to my perch. Suddenly I heard the strangest shrill cry I'd ever heard in the mountains. Then I recalled a conversation I'd had with the Taylor Burn Wilderness Guard a few weeks earlier -- he said that by mid-September the sound of; bull elk bugling, marking the start of mating season; I moved to the north side of the lookout to better hear and sat listening to the ancient call of the wild, while the stars gradually brightened among the growing dark. Suddenly a meteor streaked against the band of the Milky Way, the elk bugled again; Then in the dark a formless creature flew by the lookout, the elk bugled, an owl hooted.
This week the bugling reached a fever pitch as I heard the sound of two bull elk engaged in ritual combat to determine who would be the aplha male. As I listened their combat ceased, yet their bugling continued and gradually approached the top of the mountain. Then I realized, an entire herd was moving noisily through the forest. Now these ain't no petite little creatures. We're talking animals about the size of a horse. The woods have been extremely dry and their movement was heralded by the crashing and breaking of downed tree limbs and dry brush. The bugling of the males continued to echo through the forest sounding off the sides of the mountain. At one point the herd was stretched out below the lookout when they stopped their forward movement. A sound like the mewing of a cat ran up and down the line. Then a male at either end bugled and the group changed directions and headed south out of the basin.
Now several questions tend to come to people's minds when I talk about being a fire lookout. When I am asleep only "God" is watching for fires. The chances are that a fire that would start at night will spread rather slowly -- it gets cooler and more humid at night. Also trying to pin point the location of a fire at night can be exceedingly difficult. I am required to give a "legal description" of the fire's location using the township and range system, and to get within a half mile.Most fires tend to be started by lightning, and those storms are kind of hard to ignore. When a lightening storm moves through at night we observe its movements and try to keep an eye on where lightning strikes the ground, then look for smoke during the light of day -- you generally will see smoke way before flame.
My duty hours are (to use Forest Service lingo) from 09:30 to 18:00. If I spot a fire outside my duty hours I will, of course call them in -- and get overtime, and we like overtime! Yep, we use military time. Fires tend to be handled with a certain amount of military style procedures. Considering they are deploying people, and aircraft into potentially deadly situations it is necessary. Outside my duty hours my time is my own -- I could go and spend the night by one of the many lakes that surround Waldo Mountain if I so choose, though I generally just go for evening hikes.
And what hikes there are around Waldo Mountain! I spent my first four weeks in the mountains. during my days off (two a week) I took-off backpacking throughout the area. The lakes around Waldo sparkle like emerald gems set among a deep carpet of virgin forest. Trees abound with trunks eight to ten feet in diameter, soaring 100 feet before reaching the lowest branches, then towering another 100 feet to scrape the sky. Ancient trees, 500 to 750 years old.
The lookout at Waldo Mountain is a ground level structure measuring 15' x 15'. I have worked in actual towers, same sized cabins, one stood 40' feet tall, another 90'. The buildings contain all that you need -- propane lights, bed, desk, Osborn fire finder, etc. Heat will vary from lookout to lookout. Some I have worked had propane heat, Waldo has a wood stove. I've only needed to use it four times so far, all during rain storms where the lookout was completely fogged in. Sitting next to the stove reading a book is a pleasant way to pass the time.
Waldo has no refrigeration. What I do have is an air cooler, a section of a cabinet that has holes in the floor and wall to allow the movement of air. It actually does a decent job, though I seldom leave certain foods in it for more than 24 hours. Somehow the thought of getting food poisoning three miles from the nearest road is not very appealing.
Water. There is a spring 1.5 milers away -- a 900' elevation change. I am pleased to report that I have gotten to where I can carry 10 gallons (80 pounds) up the hill at a trip.
Bathing. Quite a refreshing affair I assure you, and something I do about two or three times a week -- usually after going for a hike. I work-up quite the sweat walking up to the lookout -- coming up from the east there is a 900 foot elevation gain in about 1.2 miles (very steep) and a 500 foot gain the last mile from the west. I fill a basin with water, get a wash cloth really wet, soap-up and rinse-off by pouring water over myself -- all outside on the catwalk. Like I said, refreshing! It really does feel good, invigorating. There's just something about standing outside, soaking wet, in the all together that make you feel really alive!
What I enjoy the most about this job is the freedom that comes with it. Other than reporting weather observations three times a day my time is my own. At Waldo I've taken to laying out on the roof reading and working on my tan. Of course I do sit up several times every hour and scan the forest for smoke.
Some nights the fires from backpacker's fires appear on the shores of the lakes around the mountain. About 20 people a week make their way up to the lookout and I take on the role of an official representative of the US Forest Service and I maintain my station with that in mind. 20 people are quite a herd compared to most lookouts, though nothing to the 100 plus a day I dealt with at the Lava Butte Lookout near Bend, Oregon.
My time at Waldo Mountain has been shear bliss. Talk about a spiritual connection. More like spiritual overload! It is hard to ignore the flux, flow, and energy of Life there. It really puts everything into a new perspective, showing just how silly the world of "men" can be.
Raw, unbridled nature, the flow of Life as represented by the events I have witnessed, the bugling of elk; watching thunderstorms form and move across the landscape; the extraordinary vivid light of the stars and moon. Above all the silence -- those who live in the country will know of what I speak. No planes constantly flying in and out of Sea-Tac airport, no sirens, no constant hum of car traffic. In the mountains the force of nature comes home in a very strong fashion -- all against the backdrop of majestic mountain peaks millions of years old, where the processes of nature, the cycles of Life, have remain unchanged for eons. At times I am comforted by knowing that I am the only person for miles around, no roads, no buildings in sight.Depending on what happens following the end of my schooling I may well return to Waldo Mountain again next summer. It is truly a special place that I will soon miss.
