Death and the Forest Service

About two years ago, I got an unexpected call from a friend at 2200. He was coming over, he was already on his way, and he was crying.

We sat on the couch together and he brokenly recounted giving his Mom CPR on his living room floor after she had a heart attack. The rest of his family watched as he frantically performed his duty as a first responder, a friend, and a son for 30 minutes until the paramedics came and took her away.

He thanked me for letting him come over and said, "this is the only place I could think of going."

And he just called to see

how Sarah and I were holding up today.

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At the beginning of this month, another friend lost his mother in a car accident. She was driving alone at night, headed home, and for unknown reasons she left the road and flipped her car. The first person on the scene was a friend of mine, an EMT and Forester...it happened outside of his house.

This story tore me up even though I didn't know her personally. They would always wave when you drove by their house, accompanying it with hearty smiles. They had no idea who I was, but I knew them.

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Two weeks ago we had a District meeting and everyone gathered in the Silver Valley. The meeting went like meetings go and everyone was driving back to Coeur d'Alene. I was driving home and passed a tow truck dragging a Forest Service rig behind it...one that was obviously involved in a rollover. I pulled a u-turn and followed it into the station...shaking by the time I got there. I had no idea if it was someone I knew, if everyone was alright, if it happened on the way back from the valley...I knew nothing except there was a totalled FS vehicle. Little was known at that time, and little is still known as it's under investigation...but thank the Lord, no one was hurt. They went off a Forest road and were caught by a tree after what looked like a couple rolls. This was no simple accident.

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On Monday of this week, I came in from the woods to news of a senior volunteer who worked on the silver valley side passing. It was about as brutal a way to here about someone as you can think, a gossip session was occuring at our front desk: "Did you hear about ____? He died this morning. Well, he shot himself this morning."

He had worked late on Friday taking care of the grounds around the office. He walked around the office after everyone had gone home and left notes for people. "Thanks for always making me feel like one of the family." "Here's my pocketknife, I know it'll be in good hands. Goodbye." Monday morning rolled around and he got in his car, drove to Shoshone medical center, and took his own life in his cadillac.

This was the guy who worked diligently and quietly, but always had a smile and a smartass comment for his friends. He would come to after-hours District parties and take photos of everyone...he left at the age 78.

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I got out of the shower this morning and found Sarah trying to make the bed. She was crying hard enough to make her body shake. She had thought the alarm on her phone was going off, but it was a coworker who told her a good friend of hers had passed away this morning of a heart attack. This woman with, "such a kind heart" had called out to her husband for help around 0300 when she had trouble breathing. He performed CPR after calling 911, but she passed before they arrived.

Her husband works in my office and we've all spent time together, inside and outside of work. They sent his crew home.

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I was strong this morning. I was empathetic, compassionate and caring...but I didn't know what to do or say. I think I probably had an aloof attitude, professional one could say...but it hadn't really hit me yet. It's definitely been building on me all day as I almost lost it this morning talking to my friend, who called from Arizona, because he had heard a rumor. He called me because he knew Sarah and this gal were close. He wanted me to give his condolences to Sarah and to see how I was holding up.

When the word came into the office it was spread around like wildfire under an irregular wind. Gossip.

The attitude of some people really surprises me. How can they be so nonchalent about death? Death of a coworker? Death of a friend? Death of a family member?

I've noticed that after each of these events I'm having some dark days. My mind wanders, I can't seem to focus, I get lost in the world of my subconscience thought. After the incident on Monday I drove for about an hour and a half after work...I don't remember half of it. I've had to go outside on numerous occassions today when my eyes well up, I don't want folks here to see me cry.

Am I too sensitive? Have other people had enough experience in this realm to know how to handle it / themselves under the news that hits with that kind of force? I find myself thinking a lot about people close to me and I fall further and further into despair. These latest events occurred to people I knew through others...they were not close friends, yet I react like they were.

The Forest Service is a family. Every day we come together under the same mission and band together in good times and bad. It's interesting to be able to go to a different town, start talking about the Forest Service and have someone ask if you know so-and-so. More often than not, you do know that person or you know of their name and possibly even the places they worked. My current boss worked with my Dad back when I was a really little guy in Kamiah. I cut my teeth in the agency on a District that had groomed other people I now work with. Countless people know my folks, and now work with me. They remember me as a little kid, and I'm sure in some way they all helped raise me.

Growing up, I was always more comfortable with adults than with a group of kids. I had grown up knowing they were around...looking after me. I remember the relief I felt at scout camp, when I was scared to death and had no clue what was going on, to see a man in a Forest Service uniform. Even as a 13-year old, I went up and talked to him because I knew he would understand me. He didn't know my folks like I expected he would, but he offered to make up a care package when he got back to town and send me some steaks. (The food up there was awful.) The care package didn't pan out, but the fact that this guy, this STRANGER in a uniform would instantly offer to help a little boy out was enough. His name was Bill Terrill (ironic because it was the same name as a guy I worked for tending fields and horses.)

It's hard to see your brothers and sisters in pain. It's hard to not know what to do or say, but sometimes it's enough for them to know where to find you if you are needed. Anyone in this agency will drop what they're doing to help you, no matter what the weather is doing, no matter what time it is, no matter what the job is. They'll even take a break as a Type 3 Incident Commander, in Arizona, after hearing within hours of a death in our family, to see if you are alright.

It's quite a thing.

June happenings

I hope you all are with me when I ask, "Where the HELL did June go?!"

Like typical Junes of the past the seasonals have come on board and the month consisted of a lot of bustling around and training. The parking lot is full at 0600 and people are roaming around until around 0700, when the army heads into the woods. This leaves the office ominously quiet, but provides a great environment to get some work done.

The past couple of weeks I've been helping mark and cruise a salvage timber sale up at Lookout Pass. It was nice to get out in the woods and it made the time fly by. This week is getting the package and the map together...short timelines are the norm anymore. But, when you have a lot of work to do it sure is nice to put your head down in the morning and get surprised by quitting time!

A couple weeks ago, Sarah and I made another try at hiking to Revett Lake off of Thompson Pass. You may remember how two years ago when we went up there, we ran into a dude who claimed to be lost. He had spelled SOS with pine boughs on the lake ice...he had a little minimalist camp...and a poodle which was wearing his tighty-whities for some unknown reason. He told us, "they'll be looking for me. Get in touch with search and rescue. We can't make it out because my dog is so weak...we've been up here for five days with only 8 ounces of food." Meanwhile the dog is running around and obviously excited at having some normal visitors. (Sure enough, he was on the missing person's list and I was able to get some deputies up there that night.) Weird.

So we returned. It looked about the same as the last time...a little puddle in the hills. We had our lunch and headed back down the trail. About three hours of driving for a short hour and a half hike (in and out.)


Revett Lake...about as alpine as it gets on the District.



Revett Lake

Sarah was signed up to run a 14-mile race up at Lolo Pass last weekend. Due to an injury she wasn't able to participate, but we went ahead and made our way over there Friday afternoon for a relaxing weekend. It was also Ironman weekend, so it was nice to get out of town and let the populous do their thing without us. Unfortunately my sister was in town that weekend and we were only able to spend one evening with her...but she came over to the house and cuddled the cats for us...which was greatly appreciated. (Makes the house look lived in too.)

We started our drive in the middle of the day and it was HOT. I've put off getting more freon (or whatever they use in air conditioners now) so we had the windows down on the interstate. I just had the truck in the shop to get new catalytic converters and I kicked myself for not having them do that. Turning onto highway 12, however, led us to TRY to see if we could get some cool air out of it. Sure enough, good ol' Scott had done the job for me....hmm 2.5 hours of heat. Always check I guess.

We had our choice of campsites, but many were entirely too buggy. I wanted a campsite next to Packer meadows, but along with the bugs it was very wet...so we ended up at a great little place down on Glade creek...about 1/2 mile from where Lewis and Clark camped. Pretty darn cool if you ask me. I'm positive they walked through our camp at some point, even if it was just poking around in the evening.


Our meadow


More of our meadow (my camera was kinda foggy that morning)

Campsite (post camping...dropped the ball on photos.)

Friday night a guy came rolling by and told us, "there are a lot of bears around here and we've got a couple bait sites pretty close to your camp." Great. We thought of bears the rest of the time we were there, but had no troubles whatsoever.

I spent the evening being a kid and flyfished the 4-foot wide Glade Creek catching fingerling cutthroat trout. It was nice to leave my 30-year old body for a bit. The next morning we watched everyone run by then snuck out a back road and headed to Powell to check a map. From there we made our way up toward the Lolo Trail and Indian Post Office. We came up on some serious snowbanks before reaching the top and there was no where to turn around! No matter. We just parked the truck, chocked the tires, and walked the rest of the way. It was chilly on the top, but the scenery made it all worth it. And our little snowdog had a great time rolling around in her favorite medium (sans poo of course.)

Sarah and I plus our view off Indian Post Office

Funny picture of Lucca smiling for the camera

Lucca doesn't understand cameras and photo-ops

She makes me smile though! Not a common photo of Tom...

We made our way back to the truck and had high hopes of being able to shovel through the snowbanks so we could access a turnaround about 30 yards in front of us. After looking at the four foot high berm, we rapidly changed our minds and I simply backed down the road. Obviously if I couldn't find a place to turn around, you can imagine the road was pretty damn narrow. We drove backwards for a mile and a half before finding a wide enough spot to do the deed. It made things interesting and gave me a crink in my neck! Good times.

After that, we headed to White Sands pond to toss a couple flies in the water. It was the heat of the day, so the bite wasn't really on. Sarah caught a trout on her first cast with my spin rod and I dabbed around the shore with a fly until I caught a finicky fish as well. We went back to camp and drove the race course. My Dad was right...there's a hell of a hill climb in there! Three miles (more?) at a steady steep grade! Looks like it would have been a hard race...next year. We drove by Packer meadows and I again didn't take any photos of the camas. The light wasn't quite right and I had hopes that I would remember to come back up in the evening...but no.

Sunday we packed up and headed back the way we came with a brief stop at Lolo Hot Springs for breakfast.

Lucca ready to go Sunday morning

Come ON Tom! Time for breakfast!

It was an entertaining weekend for me. Growing up in the country sealed it in my being and whenever I go back I can almost feel the weight drop off my shoulders. Sarah had to yard me in from fishing Friday night, "Can you get a fire going? It's 8 o'clock and I'm hungry!" Totally lost track of time. I dabbed in a tiny creek with a flyrod like I did as a little guy. I fished the pond like I used to do every night when living in Powell. We went to a place I remember being at as a kid...I couldn't remember getting there in the past...but I still kept the view with me for all those years. I had a good enough idea of what it looked like from the cache that I could see where we needed to be from a couple miles out. I like stuff like that.

Kind of a somber tone to this post. I have some bigger things on my mind today, but wanted to get this done before getting into that. "Not all those who wander are lost" kinda applies to my thought processes this morning. (And I cannot get the formatting for the captions to "stick" and I really don't want to get into HTML right now. I apologize.)