Some time ago I stopped by Smokey Bear’s office in the Department of Agriculture in Washington, D.C., and I said, “Hey Smokey! Aren’t you tired of holding down a desk? Why don’t you come out to Arizona and work in the woods again.” He didn’t commit, and the winter passed, and about the time Fisher Point started smoking this spring I got a text message that said, “Meet me at the Grand Canyon.” I went up to Tusayan and what do you know: it was Smokey with a shovel in hand.
“Time to get ready gal!” he said, and after chili on the porch at the El Tovar, he followed me home to help me sort boxes and bins for my 21st season at a fire lookout. He reminded me to bring extra D cells, and said I should also take the dragon kite I like to fly from the catwalk. “And don’t forget that big white enamel coffee pot from your grandmother’s kitchen,” he said. It’s just right for heating hot water on the stove to wash my hair in the sink. Red and blue enamel plates. Check. L.L. Bean bright plaid cotton rug. Check. Oh, and candles. It is still a lovely unplugged life for me at fire lookout. A cup of mint tea with twin candles while listening to Performance Today on NPR radio is as much nightlife as I can stand. I put lots of Ikea candles into the Rubbermade Roughneck tub with the paper towels, dish soap, mugs I collected at state parks and P.G. Tips tea.
Oh and pens and pencils, typewriter, envelopes for letters. Addresses. Check. Stamps. Books. Magazines. Two sleeping bags for the occasional cold night. Ear protection when lightning rumbles near. Cans of chili and a case of chicken with rice soup for weeks when I might not get to town for fresh food. Watercolors. When the days get long with overtime it is a way I travel out of the windows; I stretch a bit by experimenting with color and ideas in a journal or illustrating a letter to a friend.
I appreciate the help so I give Smokey a bright red handkerchief and he pulls something out of his big back pocket for me. “Smokey, what a dear you are!” It’s a small yellow Nomex fire shirt for my stuffed bear. I tuck it into the bin marked TOY BOX. Playing is part of the job, so I double check to be sure I have balsa wood gliders and a deck of cards.
“Only you,” he chuckled, “would bring a bubble wand to work. But you’ve forgotten something.”
“What?”
“Aren’t you going to be looking for smokes with those bright eyes of yours,” he laughs.
“Right! The binoculars!” I like the Forest Service-issued Bushnells, but I also bring along a pair of Navy surplus binoculars that belonged to my father. Their extra wide view is perfect for scanning the broad Coconino plateau.
It took a day together but Smokey and I got it done, and we also swapped a few stories about the Castle Fire in Prescott back in ’79, and the Dude Fire. The Hardy Fire and the Schultz. We are two old timers glad to get back to work again and now we’re geared up for another fire season. Look for us in your local woods and don’t forget: Only you … well. You know!
