Thoughts On Dating a Wildand Fire Fighterl

*Fire word of the week* 

Region 8- The Southern Region of the Forest Service encompassing 13 states, from Virginia to Florida and Oklahoma. Also, strangely, Puerto Rico. 

Scott left for Region 8 a week ago this Sunday. I woke early with him, pulled on some snow pants over my pajamas and hopped in the car for the short drive down to the office. Two trucks packed with chain saws, fuel, rope, and random gear idled in the driveway; a handful of jumpers talking to spouses, were eagerly making their last goodbyes when we pulled up. Saying goodbye is nothing new at this point for me, though a three week stint is rather long. Scott was excited to get back to work, unemployment was beginning to not suit him at all especially with the close of elk hunting season. 

Four days on the road and the trucks arrived in Arkansas. The past few days have been burning in the Ozarks, starting prescribed burns with what looks like a fire shooting paint ball gun. That coupled with some delicious sweet tea, Scott has been thoroughly enjoying his Southern stay thus far.

Meanwhile, back here in Lake Woebegone, the Misses and her animals continue to shovel through snow and step gingerly on the ice during afternoon walks in the weak January sunlight. We got another two inches or so today with more on the way come Monday. The sun sets a bit later these days, with almost a full extra hour of sunlight, which means I get to hunker down on the couch at five instead of four pm. It's the little things that brighten my days!

It was in the midst of one of these hunker down sessions that I got to thinking how oddly fitting this routine of leaving has become in our relationship or rather odd compared to the norm. I mean, it really does work! He gets to do what he loves, I get to do my thing, and we enjoy seeing each other when he returns. Quite dandy! All this coupled with the relatively general fact that people find firefighters very attractive and want to procreate with one, I started compiling a list in my mind of things I would say to someone who is or is thinking about dating a wild land firefighter. Here it is (It is by no means comprehensive, I am sure that I will be adding to this list frequently):

* They will be gone 75% of the time and almost always 100% during the summer. You'll need to be a fairly independent person to put up with this. I am very independent and yet it is still extremely hard at times to be apart from the person I love. It is important to know how to be alone, to make  a life for yourself outside of your partner, and, in the lonelier moments, to know how to surround yourself with good friends and family who will be an active and strong support system for you whether it's being a shoulder for you to cry on or someone to go out and have a drink with. 

*If you love the smell of wood smoke, you'll be in heaven for the rest of your life!

*They'll come home dirty so be prepared for that. I am not talking about dirt under the fingernails, I spilled some coffee on my shirt kinda dirty. I'm talking can't wash the grime from the pants, don't sit there you'll stain the couch, and oh geez! your boots stink, did something die in there? kind of dirty. You think I am kidding? 

*For that matter, there is something I call boot rot. I don't know how but this kind of rot seems to find firefighters specifically. In reality, it's not an actual rot; the rot more describes the odor. I cannot stress how disgusting those socks will smell when they come home from a fire. Not to mention the feet after the socks come off. I'm just warning you.

*The fire community is wonderful, full of truly incredible and unique individuals from all walks of life who are drawn to this line of work. You'll have a blast at end of the year parties and evening BBQs. But while the community is a social outlet for me, it is easy to forget the for Scott, it is still on some level work related. Cultivate a healthy distance from work where appropriate and make friends outside of the fire community as well. This can also eliminate potential drama and stresses that can stem from this crossover. 

*Tools with names like Polaski and McCloud will start hanging around your house. Embrace them, for they are multi-functional and can even help shovel your car out from the snow and chip the ice away from your front porch. 

*In the throes of winter, when days are short, the snow flurries seemingly endless, and he's been home bored for days, it helps to remember the hard times in the summer when he was away and how much you missed him. Because you likely won't be missing him anytime soon.

*And you do love him, after all :)

Boots, Paws, and Hooves

I pulled my car into the turnout, put it in park, and leaped out in a rush. The sun was already sinking low and who knows how many miles I had ahead of me. Lacing up my boots tight, I tied an extra layer around my waist and set off up the hill into the Pasayten Wilderness. Despite the steepening climb, the first quarter mile or so passed easily, my mind energized by this sudden adventure that materialized not four hours earlier.

"Babe, I got a buck, a beautiful four point." I was at work in the bakery, my hands covered with flour, but that didn't stop me from digging into my apron and pulling out my phone. I was beyond overjoyed to hear from Scott who had hiked out the afternoon before to make his camp deep in the woods and begin his hunt. There was virtually no cell reception up there and an impending storm was said to roll through the valley in the next few days. I worry, it's what I do, and knowing Scott's tendencies to underestimate his appetite as soon as he had left I began imagining him huddled in the rain under a tarp somewhere with no food and a little jar set out collecting rain water, a last ditch attempt to stay alive. This scenario hardly gives him credit, but like I said, I worry.

"Come and find me after work. I'm gonna clean it out, pack up camp, and then start making my way back down the trail." "Sounds good" I reply, my heart quickening it's beat, eager to get the baking over with and meet Scott in time before it got dark. "I get off at 3. I'll drive up to you right away." Filled with new purpose, I breezed through my tasks, wanting Scott to take as few steps as possible with all of those many pounds of camping gear, flesh, and antlers.

So there I was hiking up through the Pasayten, marveling at the sharp peaks, the meandering ridgelines, the creeks snaking down through the folds of canyons and ravines in the mountains. It was a spectacular evening hike and for a time I forgot about the fading light and the oncoming cold, so enraptured was I by this wild place. I wanted to run off trail, to explore the nooks and crannies of these slopes that only it's hoofed and furred inhabitants would know. It's a blessed thing, to know the secrets of mountains. Looking down at my feet on the trail, I see the many explorers of this place that came through the past couple of days. Boot prints, heavy soles leaving deep imprints; paws, arranged neatly in a repeating pattern, left front back right, right front, back left; and hooves, the unmistakable track of deer, two symmetrical prints almost like two commas, curving in toward each other, creating quotation marks. Boots, paws, and hooves. I smile at this interplay, these creatures that use this land and must share together. 

I think about how land use has changed for me within my three short decades of life. Learning first to love nature with family by my side, a campfire and cozy tent in the woods, sausages roasting over the fire. Later in my teen years, nature being a source of spirit and inspiration, a place to get hope and learn lessons about certain inevitabilities of life. Then in college, experiencing the harsher parts of the wilderness, the cold, the wildfires, the predators, the unforgiving elements. Respect and awe was gained throughout it all and an unwavering love for all that is wild and untamed.

Now, perhaps the most difficult of all, learning to take life in order to have life. Accepting and being comfortable with the process and in doing so honoring it. Not carrying guilt about it as though it is a badge that might absolve me of any criticism or finger pointing from those who do not and could not understand. Holding my head high and saying yes, I took that animal's life and no, it was not murder, violence, or sin. It was life at it's most basic. If we cannot accept that and celebrate it, how could we truly embrace other aspects of living? I am by no means saying that that's easy to do, especially in mainstream American culture, where meat is connected least of all to a living animal. I struggle with the taking of life, it's intense, watching a beautiful wild creature die at your hand. There is a sadness there that I almost always feel and yet, also an acceptance and a joy that I am once again reclaiming my place in the nature of things and I am actively taking responsibility by being a part of the process of taking life which we are ALL inherently a part, regardless of dietary or lifestyle choices. All we have is a choice to either ignore it or to embrace it. If we choose to ignore it, it doesn't make it untrue. For the truth in life is that for things to live other things must die. Including us. For a time we are the takers. Then we become the givers. It's tragic maybe if you look at it that way. But it's also genius, and beautiful, this circle that still contains carbon from the bones of dinosaurs and water molecules they say that Caesar and the pharaohs and King Arthur once drank, that contains me and the Pasayten and a buck who lived out several years evading his predators and who will now nourish us and our dreams.

Fighting the urge to grab my head lamp, I can barely discern Scott's bent over shape on the trail not fifty feet ahead of me, resting one of his two massive packs on a large rock. Good lord, I thought, this man is half beast! I rush over, exalted to have found him to help carry his load. "Bear, look at you! You are absolutely insane!" Scott easily carried 120 pounds for five grueling uphill miles from the ravine below before he found the trail and met me. I wondered briefly whether or not other meat eaters would eat so much meat if they had to carry it ten miles out of the wilderness. In my eyes, this meat was pure gold. Scott mustered a smile, so happy was he to get some relief. "I am so glad to see you, THANK YOU for coming out here. I don't think I would have made it out the whole way tonight." "Sweetheart" I said, "This is the absolute least I could do. Plus, it's beautiful out here, can't let you have all of the fun." And it was true, how could I ask this man to feed me and bring it to my table while I just sat and watched? No way! I shouldered the pack with the quartered buck, skull dangling from the top, and started the slow and measured journey back to the car. "Scott" I joked, "If we feed this animal to any dinner guests, we should make them drop and give us twenty. No fifty. They need to earn this meal." 

I have never carried anything so heavy as that pack that night. We ran out of water halfway and the return to the car was like a welcome to heaven. We had dinner with a friend, licked our wounds with a bottle of mead, and woke up from a deep sleep the morning after. It is now the middle of winter and our freezer is stocked with ground venison. We smile to ourselves and relive that chilly October night every time we sit down to some venison tacos or maybe a rich chili heated up for lunch from the day before. 

New Year Resolutions

Launching into a new year, I can't help but be intrigued by resolutions. It just feels like a new page is being turned, fresh and unread with endless possibilities awaiting their turn to be written on the page. Even if the feeling fades after a while, there are a few sporadic days littered throughout the calendar year which serve as focal points that help me to remember that life truly can at any moment be changed. New Year's Day is one of them. 

Waking up on January 1st a few days ago, nature seemed to agree with my fresh start assessment. The sun shone so brightly out of a radiant blue sky illuminating the brilliant little crystals in the soft powdery snow. I wanted to fly. Instead, I headed off to the bakery to serve sweets and hot drinks to the throngs of tourists seeking brief respite from their skis and snowball fights. I was able to maintain a cheery composure throughout the day and here I am January 4th, still smiling, and attempting to make good on a resolution which I set down for myself at the beginning of the summer- to blog at least once a week and chronicle this time in my life. It is never too late.

So to start off this year, I will share a story that happened about a month ago. I think that it accurately represents my winter in the valley thus far. Cheers and Happy New Years to you all! May you also write, draw, collage, or paint all over this brand new page of a year.

********************************************************************

It all started with a pumpkin pie. "Here, take a second one!" My boss called out to me. "We really need to get rid of them, they're just not sellable anymore". "Okay!" I went back and grabbed another box. Now, you have to understand, I was born and raised in a certain kind of paradise, always 70 and sunny in the San Francisco Bay Area, so snow was a foreign concept to me, much less maneuvering a vehicle through two feet of it. That day was the day that Tanya Aspen met snow- hurrying home in time to feed the dogs to drive back into town to meet a friend for dinner, I came upon my driveway barricaded by a high berm, freshly made from the plow puling onto the main road. Hmmmm. Well, I've been driving through this stuff all day, I suppose if I gun it I will fly over the berm, safe to the other side, and I'll plow my way to the house. In my 2 wheel drive Toyota Corolla. That's got 250,000 miles on it. And a front headlight that's falling off, held together with clear packing tape. I floor the gas, give a Hail Mary, and thunk! I am stuck in the berm. Can't go forward, can't reverse. Shit. What do I do??? I assess the damage, consider my options, and decide to use a lifeline- my fiancee almost 1,000 miles away in Idaho. "Scott, this is what I did, what do I do?" I say half bemusedly into the phone. "Dig yourself out". "Okay!" So my mitten-less self goes to work, numb fingers begging for an end to the monotonous work of grabbing snow out from under the car. I hop back in, throw the car in reverse, car comes unstuck, happy ending! Almost. 

I park the car along the main road, wade knee deep in fresh soft powder to my doorstep, feed the dogs, change my socks, and trudge back to the car with dogs in tow. I make it back into town with barely minutes to spare in time to meet a friend for drinks and food. She just learned that she was offered a really neat place to rent, a place far more suitable for her and her three year old than her current situation. We are out to celebrate!! A number of beers later, I have hit my limit and I know I have to play it safe to make it back through the snow. I say goodbye to my girlfriend and start the trek home. 

Before turning the engine, I see that I have missed a call from my mom and decide to have her on speaker to keep me company on the drive back. We laugh about this and that, I tell her of the wintery wonderland surrounding my every turn when suddenly I spy several antlered shapes on the road directly ahead. Deer! Crap!! Instinctively, I put on the brake- just slightly, as I have been told numerous times by many a-sneering local- and immediately begin to slide to the right toward a deep ditch. Breathe. Don't panic. Course correct. I attempt to steer back to the left. Course correct! COURSE CORRECT!!!! I AM COURSE CORRECTING! The two sides of my brain scream at each other, trying to keep the inevitable from happening. And for the second time that day, a familiar thunk! lets me know that I am unequivocally stuck. 

Huh. Well, I am in a ditch. Now what? Do I call 911? The tow company? Who do I know with a pick up? I call my friend who I had dinner with- she is a local and might know what to do. No answer. I call Scott for the second time that day. "Sweetheart, I am stuck in a ditch!" "Okay, are you safe?" "Yes." "Okay, how far are you from home?" "Not far." "Okay, can you dig yourself out?" "No." "Okay...." and it goes like this, running through my list of options. A few people stop to offer their advice- call the tow truck or the insurance company- and then head back on their way to their nice warm homes and families. Gahhhhh! Stupid deer!! "Scott, now I see why you tell me never to brake for them in the snow, they will cause you to skid! Bah!" "I know babe, well, just try to cal the tow truck, start from there, let me know how it goes. Love you, bye." I duck back into my nice warm car with the heater on, trying to forget that my front end is nose dived and my back end is sticking up into the air. 

I see a pair of narrow set lights making their way toward me from down the road. Narrow lights, could be a plow! Oh glory hallelujah! I step out of the car, if at the very least to entice the driver with my long hair and legs. Something did the trick because to my astonishment the plow stopped. It's just the way it is in small towns, I am beginning to learn, long legs or no. "Oh wow, you sure are in a pickle!" The driver says and moves straight to work to figure out a solution without me even asking or saying a word. Within minutes he has a tow rope fastened securely around some part of the undercarriage and is surging forward with my car in tow. Righted back on the main road, my spirit soaring, I am beyond words in gratitude for this night road angel. "What's you name?" "Joe". "Joe, I'm Aspen, thank you sooooo much! Can I give you money? A pie??" "Oh no no no, just meeting you and being able to help you is joy enough." "Oh no, I need to give you a pie. Thank you so much!" I pop the trunk and reach for the extra pumpkin pie. "It may not look the best", I warn, "but it sure will taste good!" Joe was unbelievably speechless by this act of pie kindness, as though I had done him a favor. My heart swelled from the effect of the kindness from this incredible road angel. Could he be a servant of some deity up there sent down to right us all on our paths when we are lead astray? The timing and the sheer luck of it all had my hair standing on end. Gratitude, the most amazing drug of choice available today. 

To top it all off, when I finally reached home I came to another plow ferociously maneuvering in the driveway from the road to my house. Who is this second night angel to grace my life here in the valley? It's the base loft manager, who, true to his word, is working after hours to plow a way for me into the house. I was almost brought to tears when he puled down his window and said "I told you I would be here!" These acts of kindness are too much. "Do you want a pie? No, seriously, I want to give you this pumpkin pie, it's from the bakery." "Aspen, you don't have to give me a pie, I am being paid to do this. Plus, you and Scott are wonderful people and we are glad you are here." I am floored speechless. Reject my pie and then slather on more love and kindness? It was too much. I called Scott for the eleventy billionth time and sobbed heavy heaving sobs, just so grateful for this life that has materialized around us, keeping us safe and happy in the valley. As for angels, I think that they come to us and show themselves to us when we are most in need. They are ALWAYS there , they just step into the light a bit more when the situation calls. Or perhaps when there is an extra pie lying around.