Chapter 7 — Bull
Bull woke up the next morning to find that his meal at dinner last night was a farce, Bradshaw's pancakes were making the rounds and everyone seemed to like them. Bradshaw told the rangers about how they were going to take a hike to a remote clearing in the forest and then depart on separate helicopters to their stations for orientation. Bull nodded to most of it and Bradshaw patted him on the shoulder after he finished giving instructions.
Deb asked Bull if he felt better and Bull almost asked her what she's talking about. "Much better," he said and Deb told him to stay hydrated.
"Lots of folks complain of headaches during their first few weeks. Withdrawal, I think, from all the technology." Deborah hummed, taking a sip of her coffee, closing her eyes and relishing in the bitterness of the blend. "You worked at a fire station right, Bull?"
Bull's face twisted a bit at that as he mumbled, "Yeah. You might be right" hoping it will end the conversation.
"Well, Bull. You'll have all the serenity one could ask for once you get out in the bush."
"I hope so," Bull said right before Park Warden Bradshaw came to gather the recruits to be escorted to different helipads. Bradshaw deferred half the recruits to one location that had left before sunrise. Bull ended up in the same helicopter as Deb. In the back of his mind, he wanted to yell God damn!
* * *
The helicopter ride was tense and Bull's jaw felt tight and uncomfortable as he tries dodging the eyes of the others, as he tried not to get sucked into their conversations. He looked out the window and saw the rolling cliff sides covered in nothing. He felt small, like a mosquito flying over a black hole. For close to an hour, Bradshaw kept talking and Bull just wanted to tell him to shut up.
They reached the lookout tower that Ranger Dave is scheduled to be posted at. There was a little outhouse overlooking a large expanse of forest and a lake close by. It was a prime tourist spot, the kind of place that Bull was looking to avoid. The group took a hike up the hillside and all clamber up the soggy wooden stairs and into the small space of the tower. The room was surrounded on three sides by countertops, on one side there was a bulletin board with maps, photos, and an old calendar. In the center was a table with a circular, movable map fixed to it.
"This," Bradshaw announced tapping the top of the topographical map, "is the Osborne Fire Finder. Invented in 1840 by Sir Francis Ronald in London to combat fires," Bradshaw told them so proudly that it was as if he had created it, "and re-imagined in the 20s by William Osborne, hence the name." Bradshaw rested his hand on the rectangular window posed on one side of the map. "You line this window up with the fire through the window, look through and find where it intersects with the compass and graduated ring on the map," he instructed while pointing to each piece on the device. "This is how you find the coordinates of a forest fire, this is how you get the information you need to call in a report of one." Bradshaw's face became serious then, "This is how you save lives."
The solemn nature of understanding the equipment loosened its hold on the throats of the rangers when Bradshaw turned their practice using the fire finder into a game. He placed sticky tabs on the window of the look-out tower, signifying where the smoke or actual fire would be visible and had the rangers take turns determining the coordinates of the "fire." It took Bull a few tries to get it right. Bradshaw stood by and offered a series of hints, urging Bull with chants of "Warmer! Warmer! No, colder! Warmer!" and jumping excitedly when Bull had found the right location. In the end, naturally, Deb was named the reigning champ. She insisted on not playing because it would be unfair to the newbies, but Bradshaw had insisted that it would be good for them to see an expert in action.
Once the game petered out, Bradshaw escorted Dave around his station, droning on about food supplies, gas-powered stoves, and routes into town. Bull found himself gazing out the window in the lookout area, sucking in the details of the forest that seems so far below them. His eyes trailed up from the blanket of emerald pines to the bright blue sky above and in the distance, he saw vultures circling over something dead on a patch of land far off from where they were, and is idly amazed at how easily, how quickly they could find their prey.
* * *
The day moved faster with the basic training squared away in the first cabin. As the rest of the team moved from one lookout tower to the next, each ranger was given the rundown on how to proceed day-to-day and how to establish contact with Bradshaw and ask for help. As helpful as Bradshaw tried to be, Bull didn't deny that the job required a lot of self-sufficiency from the get-go. Once Bradshaw finished explaining the ins and outs of the look-out tower, the remaining rangers found themselves back in the helicopter. Bradshaw made it clear that once you're dropped off, you're expected to mill about through the rest of your day, fending for yourself and moving forward from that point on.
* * *
Bull was the last in the group to be discharged. He, Bradshaw, and their pilot arrived at the Hardy lookout tower in the early part of the evening. The sun began to hang low in the sky, glowing orange along the tree lines where Bull's new home overlooked. The view was stunning, thick crowds of evergreens as far as eyes could see. It was a lot less untouched land where he was stationed, hardly any place for tourists to camp out safely. The long expanse of dipping valleys and branches stretched high along the rifts are all so untamed, uncharted by man. It was sobering and remote. Bull then was startled back to his senses when Bradshaw unrolled a map and set it down against the countertop, pointing to their area.
"You're pretty far off from town, son, further than the others. I'm afraid it's going to take a lot more effort and planning to get you into town than a couple days hike. There's a good chance you'll have to call in for a dispatch every other week, so you've got to plan your excursions accordingly." Bradshaw said looking sternly into Bull's eyes.
Bull nodded. "I'll make sure to call you up ahead of time to set something up." Bull said, and Bradshaw smiled, patting Bull on the shoulder. "Oh, hang on a second!" Bull reached into his bag and pulled out an envelope to pass to Bradshaw. "Since I won't be able to make it into town for a while, do you mind dropping that off at the post office for me when you can? It's just a letter letting my people know I made it here okay."
"I got you. I'll be sure to send this out tomorrow," Bradshaw said, tucking the envelope into his back pocket.
"Hey, Bull."
"What's up?"
"Do you have a wife or girlfriend back in Cali?"
"There's someone I left behind. God knows if I'll ever have her."
"Well, I think Deb has the hots for you if that doesn't work out."
"I know."
The men laughed and Bradshaw left Bull to himself, his helicopter disappeared over the horizon. Bull sat out on the porch of his tower, bundled up in a coat he'd hardly ever needed back in L.A. The chill bit right through his clothes. The stars slowly began to manifest, freckling the pitch-black sky above him, so radiantly that it took Bull's breath away. He never saw so many stars at once and never seen them so bright. It reminded him of the first time Bull saw snow when he and Serena did training in New Hampshire. It was a reminder of how far from home he is, far from everything he knows, including Serena.