Enjoying the Beach
During the past twelve summers, I've been staying close to home during the fire season months. These used to be from June until October, but now seems to extend from February until December. When I was called to report Fire Camp with my pickup, I pulled on my Nomex, made of fire-retardant cloth, and away I went.
Twelve years is enough, so I said last fall I was going to “hang up my Nomex” this year. I was not going to accept an assignment to drive on any more fires. I want to be able to travel during months other than January and February. Even March used to make me a bit nervous. I don't remember missing any fires during March, but I do remember being hesitant to go very far from home for fear the phone might ring.
When I was called for assignment to a fire, if I were unable to respond quickly enough it usually meant I waited until next time. Most often the dispatchers only made one call to any one contractor. Because of a fear of missing a fire call, my phone went everywhere with me
I remember once in early May I missed getting assigned to a fire east of Lake Isabella.
My granddaughters were in a high school play in Bakersfield. I was attending the play and at least one hour from home. Exactly as the curtain went up, my phone rang. I hurried into the lobby and tried to talk the dispatcher into an extra hour before I reported, with no success. He wanted me to report by 1600 (4:00 PM). If I'd hurried home right then, I couldn't have gotten there before 1700. I asked him to let me report buy 1900 with no luck. He steadfastly held to 1600. This experience made me nervous about being too far from home during the months when the phone might ring.
I also learned from this to never say I was unable to report by whatever time they requested. If I were told to report by 1700 hours (5:00 PM) I learned my answer would always be, “No problem. I'll be there.” Then whenever I rolled into the fire camp, I'd report to the Ground Support Unit Leader. He (or she) needed whatever number of drivers they'd ordered from the dispatcher and was pleased to see them show up, whenever they got there. Most often no runs were assigned during the first evening anyway. If a driver showed up at 1700 or 2100 it made little difference.
One summer I was on another fire in Lake Isabella. I had shown up at Fire Camp at 1600. By dark we were still short one driver. Since I knew her, I called to see if she had broken down somewhere. She explained a flat tire held her up, and she had to go to the tire shop the next morning. She actually didn't roll in until 1200 the next day. The GSUL was just glad to have another pickup show up even if she was half a day later than she'd been told to report.
Here we are in late May and looking down the pipe at another fire season. It is coming up quickly and I've already heard of a couple of small grass fires. I'm not hanging around home any more waiting for the phone to ring and dispatch me to a fire. I'm doing what I promised I'd be doing during fire season.
One of my favorite vacation spots is the Central Coast, specifically the small community of Cayucos. This relates all the way back to the summer of 1944 when I was born. My father wanted to take his wife and her brand new baby boy to some place cooler than Springville. The closest cool spot he could find was Cayucos. I don't have any memory of that first trip to the Central Coast, though during many of the summers of my youth my parents and I vacationed in this quiet coastal community.
When I married and a family came along, we also found great pleasure in vacationing here. Then when I decided it was time for me to retire from driving on fires, there was never any doubt where I wanted to go. I would spend some time in Cayucos.
On my various fire assignments, I was sent to some beautiful mountainous areas. I enjoyed these spots and I'm quite sure I'll eventually return to the mountains. For now, it's time for me to return to the beach. I want to hear the sound of the surf breaking and rushing onto the sand.
Last Monday, as soon as I topped the last ridge, I turned to get my first glance of Morro Rock. I was disappointed. I couldn't even see the top sticking up out of the cloud cover, much less the bottom. I couldn't see it at all. Later, when I arrived at the water's edge, I found I could only see a quarter mile down the beach, much less through the three miles to Morro Rock.
As anyone who has been to this area knows, there are three tall smoke stacks on the opposite side of the bay from the base of “The Gibraltar of the Pacific.” The top of the rock is only slightly higher than the tip of the stacks.
The fog this summer acts somewhat differently than my memory of previous years. On days when the rock is visible from Cayucos, I assumed the fog would roll in and block the view. But one evening last week I was fascinated as I watched Morro Rock seem to evaporate in the mist.
The moisture seems to hang along the coast in layers, rather than
as thick bulbous clouds. Looking down the coast towards Morro Bay, the light color of the three smoke stacks showed up clearly. As I watched, it was as if a magician had waved his wand, causing the top of the rock to slowly fade and disappear.
As the late afternoon continued the misty cloud continued to settle down on both the stacks and the rock. I was fascinated as I watched the earth-colored rock appear to become transparent while the lighter
color of the three stacks remained easily visible. It is exactly for such a reason I want to be here and not on a fire.
Brent Gill lives in Springville and is the author of three books, “Fire on Black Mountain” a sequel “Snow on Black Mountain” plus “Rampart Fire Driver” all available on Amazon in either paperback or Kindle format. His “Daunt to Dillonwood” column appears regularly in The Porterville Recorder. You may contact him at thefoothillwriter@gmail.com