Planes

*Fire word of the week* Otter Plane: A short take-off and landing (STOL) plane. Can seat anywhere from 4-10 people.

Planes are magnificent beasts. The almost instantaneous means of transporting yourself from one reality to the next, I can't think of anything closer to teleportation. They are beautiful dreams come to life, the gift of flight to us otherwise grounded creatures. Some people fear them, some drive them, most I believe don't think twice about them, so seamlessly have planes become a part of our every day. Even now as I am click clacking away on the keyboard, I hear a plane flying overhead, roaring off to some unknown destination.

And then there are those few people who jump out of them, falling through the clouds like wingless birds only to be propelled swiftly upward by a large, poofy piece of material: that sacred parachute. The adrenaline I feel as I imagine myself in that situation! It's a curious mixture of enormous excitement, relief, and wanting to hurl up my breakfast all at once.

Scott has completed 8 of his 15 required practice jumps! When we spoke after his first two, I was a rush of questions and curiosity. What was it like falling through the sky? Was there a few seconds where you looked around and thought, this is cool!? Were you scared? What are you thinking about when you are just floating there? My inner grounded creature wanted to know what it was like to fly over and over and live to tell the tale. Scott was his usual self, calm and collected. "Sweetheart, you have to understand, it's all happening so fast and you are so focused on what you have to get done that you don't really think about it. It's just work, a way to get to the ground to do what I have to do to contain the fire." Geez, what a boring let down!

In all seriousness though, that's what separates people like Scott from people like me. He is like a cat focused on his prey, nothing else matters or registers. And I am like a butterfly, focused on the field of flowers, flitting about in the breeze, taking it all in. He is able to do these extraordinary things every ordinary day because of his mental resolve, his ability to see through to accomplishing the goal at hand. And that's really all it is, at the end of the day, a task to complete. He teaches this ole butterfly much through his accomplishments and I love watching him and hearing his stories as he closes in on his third week of rookie training.

One such story, and I can't believe that this is't the first thing he told me when he got to the base almost a month ago, involves a silly little wiener dog named Penelope. Hahaaa! Penelope is the base dog, she goes wherever she wants, when she wants. And if you step on her you get punched in the face. Seriously. I just about peed my pants imagining these burly, strapping young men running around the base, doing push-ups, and practice jumps all the while keep watch for Penelope who is half mockingly running along beside them. Scott said she even licks your face sometimes when you are doing push-ups and there is nothing you can do but let her. It's a good man who understands the limitless power of a female.

Lady Penelope

Lastly, there are those who ride on planes. Nothing too exciting, no jumping, no steering or maneuvering. These people sit in often uncomfortable seats for long periods of time, meditating on their latest adventure ahead, thinking of a friend or loved one they are about to see, annoyed at the screaming child to their right, wondering whatever happened to the honey roasted peanuts and how on earth do you say where is the taxi in Mandarin? I fall into this category and yesterday I hopped aboard a plane to take me to Washington! I am here now, fresh off of a wonderful evening with my cousin and her family in their house in West Seattle. True to Czech hospitality, I drank a bit more than I thought possible and suddenly my plan to go camping in the Cascades tonight sounds a bit far fetched. I love this state, forgotten how whimsical it feels to step into the explosion of green that makes even highway roadsides sparkle. Looking across the Puget Sound to Vashon Ishland, inhaling the sharp smells of the muck of low tide, my soul can't help but feel lifted and at ease. Memories come flooding back of sharing a bowl of homemade clam chowder with my dad over in Port Orchard, riding the ferry, kayaking to Blake Island, zigzagging my way through the ferns and the mossy trees to Port Townsend, an artsy haven of food, color, and small towns with big histories. It feels like a certain kind of home. And tomorrow I see Scott! Another kind of home. I can't wait to see what the Eastern Cascades have to show me!

Explosion of green

A path through the forest.

The Seattle skyline, as seen from Alki Beach

Week One- Done!

*Fire word of the week* Survival: To survive

Hahaaa, I honestly don't mean to open up this entry in such dramatic fashion! I ask Scott every week for a new fire word and last week, without hesitating, he said survival. I even had the audacity to ask what it means!

Well, survive he has! He hasn't given me too much insight as to the ins and outs of that hellacious first week, save the sound of his voice. That was the hardest part. All last week, whenever he called, his speech sounded labored and he could hardly stand to be on the phone longer than a few minutes. "Just calling to say I love you and that I am alive...sort of". That was the extent of our conversation. I began to wonder if he would ever sound normal again, the usual happy go lucky tone and excitement for life completely absent. Often, when he is out on fires, a simple phone call home is all it takes to get him to feel a little better. This sudden turn makes me a bit uneasy, thinking what else I could try to get him to laugh or at least muster a smile.

The hardest day of the week was last Friday, the pack test. What the rookies were told to do was to carry a 110 lb pack 3 miles, only those 3 miles gained a total of 2500 ft of elevation. Oy! Scott told me after he was glad that they didn't time the day, he was stopping so frequently against any tree or rock that could offer a brief respite from the climb. He did it though! They all did, and after they could all stumble home and lick their wounds for the weekend.

As tough as it is, hearing about his perseverance and his focus through this ridiculously difficult ordeal makes me think of the old myths we grew up hearing or learning about in school. Whether they be Norse tales, Herculean legends, or old Irish folk tales, it seems that the heroes and heroines all had a mountain to climb, a battle to face, and what made them so spectacular and god-like was their ability to keep going, to triumph. I loved reading those stories and still do for they make me feel that even in everyday life I can be capable of achieving great things. I may not be slaying dragons or walking through fire but that determination and courage comes from the same well regardless of the task at hand. Scott is living proof.

Davis Lake, Scott exploring the nearby areas

A river near Winthrop, at dusk