Day 1

You know there’s something about being in the passenger seat; it’s so calming. Which wouldn’t be the case if I had to make the car journey to the National Park myself.

Despite the heaters’ best efforts, the crisp air seeped into my bones. I leaned my head against the window, watching the towering pine trees turn into a blur.

Before long, the car came to a halt at the trailhead. The forest ranger, a weathered figure with a kind smile, turned to me and handed over a worn map. "You're all set," he said, I thanked him with a nod of gratitude. I stepped out of the car and hoisted my backpack onto my shoulders. The ranger drove away, leaving me alone.

The hike was long, and each step was unforgiving. Not in the physical sense, not to brag but you know; I’ve taken care of myself. But physical on the mind, if that makes sense? There’s nothing, just a bunch of nothing. I feel as if I’m in a constant loop, there’s not to stimulate my mind. It’s growing tired looking for something. My mind is so used to running at full speed, it can’t comprehend.

And then, after what felt like an eternity, I found myself standing at the edge of a small clearing. Through the gaps in the trees, I caught my first glimpse of the fire lookout tower. It stood tall and proud, like an old man. The wood bore the scars of countless seasons.

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Surrounded by a sea of trees, the watchtower was like a lighthouse. Fifty meters to its side was a modest shack, which i assume is the toilet. It’s better than a whole in the ground, which isn’t the best complement. Come to think of it, it is a whole in ground surrounded by wooden box. What did I sign myself up for.

Putting that aside for another day, with a deep breath, I approached the fire tower. I’ll give it some props; It’s marvellous. Ascending the worn steps, I gazed in astonishment at the age of the structure. As I reached the top, dust had settled on every surface. Pushing open the creaking door, revealing the interior bathed in the arm golden light of the afternoon sun.

Inside, the tower seemed frozen in time. A vintage radio rested on a wooden desk, its dials and knobs whispering. Maps were pinned to the walls, each marked with the journeys and photos of past lookouts. The room was adorned with photographs, showing a timelapse of seasons.

I Should really unpack and clean up the place. But I find myself drawn to the simple bed tucked against the wall.

I let my backpack slide off my shoulders and fall onto the floor and I collapsed onto the mattress. The bedding was rough and worn.

There must be something in the air because I’ve become- I don’t what know what I’ve become. The word escapes me, but I would never normally be like this. So many things to attend to but I’m neglecting them. Instead, I’m resting.

I wonder if they’re working, the people outside. No, majority of them would be clocking out by now.