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Fire lookout enjoys peaceful summer

If Roxie Acevedo could live at work, she probably would.

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Perched high on a ridge between the Mission and Jocko Valleys, she raises a pair of military-issue binoculars to her eyes and slowly turns, scanning the hillsides. 

“Nothing new to report today,” she says, squinting into the sun.

It’s a beautiful late summer day — especially beautiful because the horizon is clear of smoke plumes, meaning Acevedo can enjoy the view or return to reading her crime novel without worrying about wildfires spreading. In another half hour, she’ll study the landscape again and check in with dispatch, noting in her logbook that all’s clear. 

In a decade of summers as a fire lookout for the Confederated Salish and Kootenai Tribes’ Division of Fire, mostly stationed here at the Pistol Creek lookout tower, Acevedo’s daily routine hasn’t changed much. But that’s fine with her.

“I like being up on the mountain; I like the solitude,” she said. “It gives you time to think and clear your mind.”

Around July 1, Acevedo and the Flathead Reservation’s other two other lookouts — one at the Ferry Basin tower above Dixon and one at Bassoo, north of Niarada — begin a 10-days-on, four-days-off schedule that lasts through September. From their towers, the three lookouts can see almost the entire Reservation, and their job is to report any sign of fire immediately and help guide fire crews to the right location.

“We’ve got (the Flathead Reservation) all pretty much covered,” Acevedo said.

With a platform 70 feet above the ground, Acevedo’s Pistol Creek tower is the tallest of the Tribes’ three manned towers. On a clear day, she can see north all the way to Flathead Lake, south to the last curve in U.S. Highway 93 before Evaro, and at night, the glow from Missoula’s lights. This year has been slow for fires, and Acevedo’s only caught one that grew to less than half an acre near Arlee.

“But I’ve spotted quite a few fires in years past,” she said. “If you’re doing your job, you’ll catch ’em just like that.”

Her most memorable fire-spotting story comes from an incident four summers ago: a passing train sparked a grass fire that threatened several buildings near Ashley-Martin Manufacturing just north of Arlee. Acevedo watched the train go by, and moments later, smoke began rising from the field. A quick phone call to fire dispatch and minutes later, firefighters swarmed the area. From her post on the mountain, Acevedo watched how the fire spread, directing fire crews on the ground via telephone. It was hot and dry, and the wind whipped up the fire, sending flames within 40 to 50 feet of two structures.

But when it was all said and done, no buildings burned, and Acevedo was the day’s heroine.

“That was pretty exciting, to be able to help those guys down on the fire,” she said.

Most days, however, are not so thrilling. It takes someone not intimidated by being alone 45 minutes away from civilization to want to spend a summer of 10-day stretches in an old cabin atop a shaky wooden tower. While only five miles as the crow flies from St. Ignatius, the Pistol Creek tower is accessible only over rough logging roads that wind through the hills. Wildlife are Acevedo’s most frequent visitors — she’s watched and been watched by bears, mountain lions, deer, bobcat and elk, to name a few. And while she hasn’t spotted any wolves, they’re much more active in the area this year, howling “all hours of the day.”

“But that even makes the job more exciting — you never know what’s gonna lurk around the next corner,” Acevedo said. “I love the outdoors; there’s never a boring moment up here.

“I can always take a walk … and pick huckleberries, pick flowers.”

Despite her remote location, Acevedo said she never feels completely alone. She can see and hear Hwy. 93 traffic, and the tower gets its share of visitors, although many are unintentional — campers or hunters lost in the myriad of logging trails or “booze cruisers” looking for a secluded party spot. In the mornings, she rushes through showers at an outdoor water tank, never sure when a plane taking off from the St. Ignatius Airport will buzz by the tower.

“You’re up there all alone, but you’re not alone,” Acevedo said.

Solar power has allowed Acevedo conveniences that would have been unheard of for fire lookouts in the old days — she bought a television this year and can pick up several channels with better reception than she has at home. But her two young grandchildren, who sometimes spend a day or two at the tower with Acevedo, enjoy the TV more than she does. Acevedo would prefer to watch the animals or read, listening to the birds singing and the wind rustling the trees. For her, the appeal of being a lookout is in the peaceful simplicity of escaping to the mountains.

“Basically if you know how to read a map, all you need to know is how to read an azimuth off the fire finder,” Acevedo explained of the job requirements.

But don’t think the position will open up any time soon, at least if Acevedo has anything to say about it. If lookouts were needed year round, “that would be the best job ever,” she said.

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