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I caught the flu in Shady Cove, a little one horse town in southern Oregon. I worked there for two weeks this summer, and slept on a cot amongst friends, worked in spurts, and in general just helped keep a large wildfire under control. We drove on renewed logging roads, caught a little flame as it tried to rekindle in a drainage, put out stumps as they undermined the roads, sat lookout atop the world and talked to helicopters. After that, we drove out onto Timbered Rock and patrolled a huge stand of old growth Doug Fir by foot, beautifully under burned, the trees standing tall like sentinels, the golden light pouring through their branches into the ash and destruction below. We helped to quench several flare ups on Division C on the hottest days, 105 degrees and cooked from the radiant heat as well. Finally, as we prepared to leave, we spent one last day hiking in the old growth and sleeping in the moss.
The fulfillment of doing a job that must be done, attacking four-foot flames with but a shovel to keep them at bay, and succeeding�it is unimaginable to the uninitiated. My heart swells with pride that this is what I do, that I am a knowledgeable and capable professional in a job that is so taxing. I know that I will be able to handle anything that comes up. Despite my desire to have a life beyond work, I am glad for this last summer, it has been the summer I desired. I can prove myself to the world to be the best damn firefighter I know how to be, and pretty damn good at what I do.
So, despite missing my Jeffrey quite a lot, I will go to bed with this note, and remember why I am here this summer, and why I will accept the next dispatch, and the next after that. This is my destiny this summer, and I will not falter or fail. I am a good firefighter, I wrote last winter, and this summer I have put my claim into action, and have proved it to myself, and to anyone else who might wish to challenge me.
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