

"I had never seen that this time of year." When he hiked up the mountain for the first time this spring to open the tower, "with every footstep I was sending up little puffs of powder from the soil," he said.

Now there's less snow, and the soil is drier. At the highest elevations, the oldest conifers used to be snowed in through late March. And it's given me so much joy and beauty over the years," Philip Connors said of his lookout high above the Gila National Forest. Philip Connors "The place became my citadel and my solace. "Now it's almost like the tables are turned, like it is in need of solace because big chunks of it are being transformed and going away." And it's given me so much joy and beauty over the years," he said. "The place became my citadel and my solace. But over time he became a witness to the changes brought on by a warmer, drier climate. But it was a different forest two decades ago, and will be even more changed once the flames die down.Īt first, he thought of the lookout job as a paid writing retreat with good views. He described how the mix of trees changes depending on elevation, from a mix of conifers intermingled with aspen at the highest elevations, to a belt of ponderosa and oak, then pinyon pine and juniper.Ĭonnors, who is also a writer, deeply loves the forest he has watched over every summer for the past 20 years.

"I'm not ashamed to admit I hugged a few trees before I left, some of my favorites," Conners said. It's his home for about half the year.īut when the Black Fire crept too close, he packed up his belongings for a helicopter to ferry out, and hiked out with a colleague, his relief lookout who helped him pack. His usual perch is a small room at the top of a 35-foot tower in a remote corner of the Gila National Forest, about a 5 mile hike from the nearest dirt road. "The essence of the job is to stay awake and look out the window and alert the dispatch office at the first sign of smoke," he explained. Forest Service as a fire lookout, responsible for spotting wildfires early. When a wildfire forced Philip Connors to evacuate in a hurry a few weeks ago, he wasn't just any fire evacuee.
