A milestone is reached
Tuesday at 1 p.m., a milestone was reached. That was the date and time of Sharon’s passing, my wife of 54 ½ years.
It has been a long year, though I’ve found by talking about my life with her, and about losing her, it has somehow been easier. There’s no question I loved her, nor that she loved me. And of course, I certainly miss her.
One of the best things I’ve run across certainly describes my life with Sharon: “I met and married the love of my life. From that marriage to her, I learned to love deeply, and completely. And now I get to take what I learned with me through the rest of my life.”
As you probably assumed, I’m still assigned to, and working on, the Castle Fire. By the time you read this on Wednesday I will be in the middle of my 22nd day of duty. However, we’re finally beginning to see the signs of “winding down.”
Every fire has a frantic beginning, a busy and productive middle, and then a slowing time. Of course, there’s no way to accurately predict how long these three stages will last, though all of us valiantly attempt to figure it out. Our predictions are about as accurate as the weather forecasts, and though great efforts are put forward to accurately figure out both weather and fire, total accuracy isn’t possible. But it gives us something to do while we’re sitting around camp.
When the call comes in assigning me to a fire, there’s always a degree of excitement. The “little boy” in me still gets excited and anxious to “go to the fire.“In 2012 I got a call to go all the way up to the Mendocino Forest, to the North Pass Fire. I got the call in the middle of the day, and as I remember I rolled north about 4 p.m. I told the lady who called me I’d drive as long as I could, pull in somewhere and sleep, and continue on to fire camp the next morning. She was fine with that arrangement and urged me to be careful.
Once I got started, I drove straight through. After nine hours of driving, I arrived in camp at 1 a.m. the next morning. I was fired up and ready to go to this far-away fire, and didn’t get sleepy while I drove. By the time I curled up in my sleeping bag a few minutes later, I had no trouble going to sleep.
Being out on the Castle Fire where I’m now, we’re driving through many miles of beautiful forest, mostly unburned. I’ve seen many different wild animals. One trip I’ve made several times, takes us from our main camp at Camp Whitsett, down into the bottom of the Kern Canyon, then up the steep and twisty Sherman Pass road. This takes us to Sherman Pass at 9,200 feet altitude, and finally to Black Rock Station at 8,150 feet altitude. As we travel, we go through some absolutely fantastic country. On this run, I’ve seen several bears, a few deer, even one nice little forked horned buck with most of the velvet already gone off his antlers. He wasn’t blue yet, but looked to be in reasonable shape. I’ve also seen several coyote in the foothill country as I drive through there.
One of the critters I’ve seen a couple of times now, aren’t wild. There are at least two dogs that ride with their owners in the big water truck. The first one I spotted was a good-looking Australian Shepherd. She had a collar/harness strapped to her shoulders, bright red of course. After all she’s tagging along on a real fire, so obviously it had to be red.
The second was an absolutely wonderful little Corgi. Her owner drives a great big water truck with a four-door cab, driven
all the way from Glencoe, N.M., to the Castle Fire. “Cree” rides along on a pad set up so she’s at perfect height to look casually out the back, right window. Where I park my truck in the Ground Support area, I’m afforded a good view of the main road through camp.
One afternoon, that water truck was passing through Ground Support, sprinkling our dusty road to keep us from choking. Joel Bonnell is the driver and operator, and his wife, Kristi, rides along to keep him company, though she seldom drives “this big thing.” But, the back seat
observer is obviously the one who runs the show. They’ve all three been on the Castle fire for a week now, driving here from Glencoe. The Bonnells have been running water trucks for fires throughout the western states since 1990.
As you can see from the picture, Cree watches Joel and Kristi’s action quite carefully. She had just finished moving some barriers, so Joel could sprinkle a little more dust. Cree got up off her comfortable pad, and craned her neck so she could see where Kristi was going and exactly what she was doing. I got out of my
truck to take the picture and had to wait for the little dog to look at me. Kristi wasn’t in the seat where she belonged, and Cree wanted to know why not. Kristi had to walk toward me before Cree finally looked in my direction.
When they drive by on the road, she looks just like a man, who has hung his elbow out the window to enjoy the passing air. As they splash by, it looks as if Cree has her right leg out the window, enjoying the air, and looking most casual and definitely a cool little lady.