Chelan (Sagebrush) Lookout

If I couldn't have a Forest Service job yet, the least I could do was build a lookout of my own. One of the limiting factors was that it had to be close enough to Lake Chelan to make salvaging wood off the beach practical - no small chore. I explored around, seeking the best site, before choosing and naming "Sage Brush Point" for a vantage. Another reason for the choice was that Greg Hastings lived nearby. He was just enough younger to be malleable to my wishes and was already endowed with a hefty, strong back which could be very useful. Also, we were friends. The site has been an orchard for many years now so it's sort of hard to describe the location easily. It is the second and lower of two rounded granite knobs on the north shore of the lake going west from town. Many years before, someone had dug out a round reservoir on its broad summit about three hundred feet in diameter which looked much like a meteor crater. I doubt if the scheme had ever been utilized because with the coming of electric pumps the orchards were irrigated directly from pipes under pressure, so there was no need of a reservoir. When the lookout station was built, sagebrush was well grown in the circle leaving only the conspicuous, pale gray rim of clay, evidently dug out of the pit. The station must have been constructed mainly after school. That was the most time I would have had free, and that by going there direct from the bus! The folks were lenient knowing my enthusiasm for the project and doubtless allowed me more free time to devote to it than I realized. In any case, four rather skinny driftwood logs were located on the beach and with "Chunky", the rowboat Dad built for Phyllis and me one winter, were towed to the nearest practical place from which they could be dragged, by brute force, to the site. Other building materials were easier to transport. These included old abandoned flume boards, generally about eight to ten inches wide and strictly on their last legs as building material. The hardest to find were long poles for braces. Eight, nearly twenty feet long, were required. Finally, with no other choice available, a neighbor's prop pile (props are used to shore up overloaded apple trees as the fruit matures) was raided when no one was observing closely. This expedient provided good quality one and one-half by three-inch milled fir stock and the tower was duly raised. I don't recall many particulars of this operation. Presumably this means it didn't fall down too many times in the process. Once the legs were raised and the braces nailed (most, of the nails were salvaged from old boards as well), the flume lumber was used to construct the deck, about 5 x 5 feet square, maybe fifteen feet off the ground. I'm afraid the prop pile came in for further raiding to provide framing material, but this time only short, less valuable pieces were needed which helped salve our consciences. As there was to be no lining, five-foot high walls were sufficient. Ample headroom in the center was provided by the pitch of the roof. The walls were built up about two and a half feet, then a top plate nailed around the top of the "prop" studs and the space between left open to the breezes as wide open glassless windows which in summer in those parts are better than the real kind. The roof was of similar flume board construction, with no time wasted in planning any waterproofing, which at Chelan was rarely needed anyway.

The tower complete, a bunk of more flume boards was constructed. I even made a plywood fire finder complete with map and rotating pointer, this project done in the basement at home mainly with a Christmas gift coping saw. One night shortly after the structure was complete we had a real windstorm; I looked with dread to "Sage Brush Point" when daylight came. My worst fears were realized. Where the tower had so proudly stood was now only the bare sagebrush-covered knoll! It wasn't until after school that Greg and I were able to visit the site and survey the damage. It was total for most of the structure. Little but ruins remained. This was bitter, as plans had been to install oId pipe-wire guy wires that day! One day too late! Even so, we resolved to rebuild. This was done with aid from Greg's dad, Francis Hastings. He must have taken considerable interest in the project as he located four real posts about the same length as the beach ones we had previously used and he delivered them to the site with the tractor. This was a real boon. By now the prop pile had become a staple source of material, and though the shattered remains of the first tower were utilized where possible, 'newer' scrap lumber was added as necessary with an increasingly clear conscience. Again, the major construction was of discarded materials and close up the structure was something else in appearance. From the highway, some half mile distant, the tower did look remarkably neat and finished.

This was fortunate, as it was to give me a clear shot at my goal of being a real lookout. Sim Beeson, the U.S. Forest Service Assistant Ranger, who had a passel of kids himself, spotted the tower and, intrigued, drove by back roads to Hastings' place, the nearest house. Here, either Greg or his Dad took him up for a look, and if I know either of them, gave him a real snow job in the process. I doubt if this mattered. Sim was taken with it to the extent of looking me up a few days later and together with Greg, and in a real USFS pickup, took us to the Forest Service office, where he presented us with a genuine, if discontinued model, firefinder on which he had spent hours shellacking a Forest Service map. In addition, an official United States flag, more maps, fire reports - the works! Oh, yes, and some official bright yellow signs, "No Smoking While Traveling" and "Douse Your Campfire, Every Spark" - these to be erected along our highway. Then he wrote up a neat story about it all for the local paper, the Chelan Valley Mirror. This must have been in the summer of 1937 or 1938. What an event in MY life! I doubt if Sim ever realized what a profound effect this generous act was to have. I have him to thank for so much of my future professional career, which was to result from that interest shown in a kid's project. Of course, neither did any of the rest of us see it as pivotal; it was just one of those special things a considerate adult does that inspires a kid at the right time. It may not have influenced Greg's life nearly as much, but to me this was the wedge. From that day on I haunted the Forest Service office, scrounged all available maps and materials and doubtless made a thorough pest of myself. Whatever, one thing they couldn't escape knowing, that the pesky "Post kid" was one eager youngster to join up, the sooner the better! Those maps and supplies were put to good use, too. I soon knew every feature shown on the maps as well or better than anyone else who hadn't actually been to those places, and probably better than most who had. Not a single feature I wasn't as familiar with as a map or descriptive pamphlet could make it. I even scrounged up a copy of the official "Lookout Manual" and memorized it. I was rarin' to go. But it was to be another year or more before this was to be. September 1939