How to be on call, all the time?

A question of mindfulness

I went to sleep with my phone by my pillow. On my day off I decided to drive to a nearby lake within cell phone range and within 2 hours of my base to explore a little more of the Cascade region I decided to work in this summer. 2 hours is the expected response time for me to turn around and be fire ready if the call came through. I rented a kayak for an hour and paddled out and back to an island with my phone in my backpack. I felt a little bit on edge when the wind picked up and started gusting. Not because of the paddling, but because of what it could mean for a fire on this hot and dry summer day. I don’t think I’ve ever gone to a body of water and felt less relaxed. I felt distant from the park-goers lounging in the sun on the lakeshore. Fourth of July weekend right around the corner. When I returned to my truck, I crawled into the back with a book and my phone, and tiredly tried to read while dozing off and waking up in starts, worried that I might miss something. Any call that came through that day would be a call to my first incident of the season. The mental anticipation was, in short, a lot.

Many friends of mine have worked in first responder roles, as ski patrollers or local SAR (search and rescue) team volunteers or in town or county fire departments. When I first started spending time with wildland firefighters I understood they were also incident responders, but I don’t think I really understood what set them apart. There is some common ground, of course. You have a checklist, a specific role. Time is crucial.

In fire, there are no sirens, no loud and flashing lights to signal the responder’s arrival, no hospital to welcome the patient and take it from there. You get a call, arrive at your base of sheet-metal, hop in your trucks with boots you might not take off for days, and then you may be gone for weeks, sleeping in the woods in the dirt, managing an incident that changes rapidly by nature, with as much as a mere shift of a wind direction. You’re not just on call for that single moment and response. You are on call to be present in body and mind for days on end, moment to moment, week to week, month to month. It’s your job. So when I asked this question, how to be on call, all the time? what I’m really asking is how to be present, in every moment. It is a personal mission. Otherwise I’m not sure how I'd make it in this line of work.

When I first started spending time with wildland firefighters in their “time off”, I notice they were doing normal things that active people do, but quieter. With sheer presence. I’m not putting them on a pedestal or anything for that, but it was hard not to notice. Skiing, biking, running, climbing. They weren’t drawing attention to, or trying to make a name for themselves. They were simply all there, and maybe because they knew they might be gone the next. Off on a call. Off somewhere unknown to them. So I noticed they had this mastery over their mindset, attitude, presence, and perseverance. They were focusing on what was right in front of them. They were fighting a silent fight, even, to maintain this presence against the steep slopes that life’s shifting possibilities can draw up in a heartbeat. I knew they had seen and experienced hard things, things you and I cannot imagine except from our common humanity. Losses and injuries on the fire line. Distance from loved ones for most of the year. Feeling alone in the fight. They are quiet warriors.

For those interested in getting to know a wildland firefighter, these people are quite enjoyable to spend time with, as they are adventurous souls. Their full time job is managing risk, and being able to adapt to constantly changing fire conditions. They have to remain pretty detached from an outcome, in order to show up fully to this charge. This detachment bothered me a little at first, being a rookie to the world and all (just when I thought I knew, it escaped me again!) Now I hold the not knowing with deep respect. Now I know it is one of the traits that makes a wildland firefighter so strong — their ability to flex and adapt, and hold themselves accountable to their response. It is constantly hard work. No doubt even quite lonely at times. It is also the foundation for being part of a team. You know your team is fighting the same fight to show up fully for you. These are people you can depend upon. I respect the hell out of them for how hard their job is and how they continue to step up to the plate. I am dedicated to learning how I can be the best team mate I can be.

My captain the other day said to me, I can’t promise you a voice in big change but I can promise you a place on the team. I think that summed it up for me, in a nutshell. The world is a tough place, only getting tougher. I know how easy it is to succumb to problems I cannot solve and situations I have no control over. I know how hard it is to remember it is just my own mind and body I am responsible for. When enough of us can remember and embody our own presence, we become a team capable of making positive, small change. And that’s what counts, I think.

Next time I get a day off, I’m going for a nice, long run.

Image description: My fire friend Chey getting after it in the Tetons on a day off last fall.