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USFS 2019 — Part 3, Chapter 5
Beginning the first full week of August, our assessment schedule dropped from weekly to a bi-weekly. From that point in the season forward, all our assessments were conducted in pairs until the trailhead we used to access the second-growth area opened to wider public permit use in early October. After Ian took a turn in mid-July, Bridger had taken the week after to give me one more week off from backcountry duty after my three-week bender of assessments. So my last solo assessment of the summer fell on a week that began in July and ran into the first days…
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USFS 2019 — Part 3, Chapter 6
I was against being seen in public with my coworkers when alcohol was involved for one obvious reason: They were animals. At the Rain Shadow, the lack of propriety felt acceptable, but I wondered how much of that owed to the backdrop of dense coastal forests that constantly gave it the effect of an extended camping trip. In the end, Bridger and Ben somehow convinced me that venturing into society would only be embarrassing until Ian got kicked out of a place. They promised that witnessing that would make everything up that point worth it. I wasn’t sold, but I…
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USFS 2019 — Thereafter
If my theory that life was existentialism with a laugh track was still an untested suspicion in August 2019, the remaining weeks of what would be my last lap as a USFS seasonal, and especially the months and years since that summer, did little to disprove it. For starters, before my season even ended, one Maeve Tully—the Jefferson County therapist and sometime astrologer I knew simply by her last name—was found broken down near the California-Nevada stateline by way of Death Valley.