FtA: The Watchtower

When I was around 9 or 10 my dad asked my sister and I if we wanted to go on a trip. We agreed, and he told us to get into the car and wait for him. Our "car" was a small truck with only enough room for two people to sit on the actual seats. Anyone else had to squeeze into the back of the cab in a very small space. After a few minutes our dad came out and got into the car, telling us that Mom wasn't coming with us. At the time I found this to be exciting, as that meant I got to sit in the front seat, which was a rarity at my age.

Our house was located half-an-hour into a deep forest outside of our already nearly empty town. By the time you got out to us there weren't even any paved roads; those ended miles before our stop. The entire town and area surrounding it was locked away high up into the mountains, and our house even more so. If you wanted to get to town, you had to go back down as you went out of the woods. This is why I found it weird that as we left our driveway, Dad started driving on a road we didn't usually go on: one that led even further up the mountain.

I think it'll help to really paint a picture of the remoteness of our living situation growing up. As stated before, I lived in the mountains, in the middle of the woods. On top of this, though, my house was situated near the base of one of the highest peaks in the area. The local Junior High Math Teacher (let's call her Ms. Patti), lived exactly at the base of the road that was the final ascent to the peak. If you went past Ms. Patti's house, you were no longer going to be interacting with a flat roads; only single-lane switchbacks to the top. This was made even worse because if you encountered someone going the opposite direction as you, one of you had to back up until there was a way to pull over, and there was only a spot every mile or so. The winter made this road totally impassable. We had a name for the dozen or some people that lived up past for Ms. Patti's house: Winterers. Once the first snow hit, these people would simply stay up there, in the mountains, not coming down until mid-Spring.

Luckily, though, it was well into Summer when Dad, my sister, and I all took this trip, but I hope this helps to illustrate how unusual it was for me to go up there at this age.  

As we drove past Ms. Patti's House and took the first turn, the car began to make it's usual whines every time it went up a hill. The road instantly narrowed to only fit one car. We drove further and further through the forest path, over the creek bridge, and eventually above the tree line. I would stare out the window and look down the hill, being keenly aware that the slightest jerk of the wheel would send us rolling down in the forest below, likely not found for days, if at all.

Yeah I had happy thoughts as a kid.

After what seemed like an hour of driving, we hit a gate wherein Dad parked the truck, and instructed us to get out and start walking. By this point, the trees were long gone, but there was a small trail that led up to what - to me - looked like a house on stilts.  As we kept walking towards it, Dad informed us that this was the Firewatch Tower: a place where someone spent the entire summer on the lookout for forest fires. Instantly I had a few questions: Were they up here alone? Yes. Did Dad know them? No. Why were we up here?

To that my Dad simply replied "I don't know."

Either way, we walked up the path until we hit the stairs at the bottom of the "stilts". From there, the stairs would loop around the four legs of the structure until we hit the top. Confidently, my Dad knocked on the door of the lookout tower, and a man in his twenties answered and welcomed us in.

The tower had one room, and was surrounded on all sides with large windows. In the center of the room was a large map that covered all of the visible area from this tower. A bed was pushed against one side of the room. There was a stack of dog food by the door; there wasn't a dog.

My sister and I were enthralled by how much we could see, and spent the next few minutes running from one side of the tower to the other, pointing out rivers we found familiar, or commenting on how tiny the houses looked. During this time, my Dad told us to stay inside, while he and the Lookout spoke on the porch of the tower. I can't say for sure how long they spoke out there, or even what about, but after some time Dad informed us it was time to head back down the mountain. We said our goodbyes, and without much words, we walked back down the trail, drove down the thin mountain road, passed Ms. Patti's house at the bottom, and arrived back at our own house.

My sister and I ran straight back inside to tell our Mom about what we saw. After our excited (and possibly overwhelming) recounting of what happened, she simply said "I didn't know you went up the mountain, Dad said you were going to town." To this, our Dad informed us that he had to go chop wood for our furnace, which was a typical activity for him, and he then left into the woods to find suitable heat fuel.

Going up to the lookout was magical, as it was like what I imagine standing at the top of a tall building as a child in the city would be like. Honestly, given the trees it was more like an ocean, one that I would have loved to explore more.

I was in love with the firewatch tower. Excitedly I would ask my parents every question I could about the place, most of which they couldn't answer. On top of that, I spent the rest of the summer researching the job of a firewatch, and even considered taking such a job as recently as a few years ago.

Every year, though, I would ask my Dad if we could go back up to the watchtower. In the same year that we first went up, my Dad had many excuses as to why we couldn't go back there: It was off-season, the road was blocked, there was an active fire and we would be in the way. After that first summer, though, the answer simply become "No".

Even once I was able to drive, I wasn't able to make the journey myself. The path up the mountian had a lot of twists and turns that were really only known by the Winterers and people who had spent well over 30 years in the area. As predicted, my Dad wasn't willing to help me with directions to get up there.

I'm not sure what inspired him to only take us up there once, and so suddenly, apparently. I'm sure if I were to go back to my hometown now I would be able to finally make my way up that mountain, and see the tower once again for myself, but currently there are other obstacles that keep me locked out of that town.

One day, I will return though, it's a long-term goal of mine.