We meet at his “temporary base camp,” a motor home parked at the end of a paved road at the foot of the Cascade Range. Before meeting in person, he warned me that there wouldn’t be too much time to talk. He reminds me of that fact again as he invites me inside. While neat, clean, and meticulously organized, the vehicle’s cabin is crammed to the roof with equipment. I see camping gear, freeze-dried food, the hard, black plastic case for a very expensive weapon scope, and several boxes of various firearm ammunition.
McCray ushers me to a narrow bench at the dinette, then sits across from me, next to a bulging backpack and sheathed hunting rifle. Between us sits a small, well used BioLite camp stove, the kind that uses thermodynamics to charge personal devices. McCray removes a stained bandana from his checkered flannel shirt pocket and resumes cleaning the stove. A cold north wind rocks the camper, a warning of the winter months ahead.
Before I get a chance to ask my first question, he launches in with:
It’s my fault what happened to them. Not the volcano, obviously, or how it drove those creatures right toward them. I didn’t set up the situation. I just put them right in the middle of it. “Oh no, you’re doing me a real favor, please. I can’t sell the house till the market recovers. Please come take care of it for a while. Too many memories for me to live there. I promise you’ll love it.”
That was me, always pushing, always thinking I knew better. I was so goddamn proud that I’d gotten her into therapy, and how she was just starting to make progress. Her need to nurture, her fear of abandonment. I think, with a little more time, she might have been ready to admit that she blamed Mom for Dad leaving us, and how that blame kept her enabling Dan. Just a little more time. But then Gary and I split, and the house needed a sitter, and I thought…I thought…if I could just nudge her a little closer to the truth, build up just a little more pressure…
He spits into the bandana, then attacks a particularly stubborn stain.
I mean…even if she blamed me at the time, she’d totally thank me later, after it all worked out one way or another…
The camper rocks in the wind.
I thought I had all the answers.
* The Karlsruhe Institute of Technology, which has pioneered the process of 3-D glass printing by embedding a silicon base with polymer nanoparticles.
Monkey, you want to reign over all the animals, but look what a fool you are!
—AESOP
From the American Geosciences Institute (published online one year prior to the Rainier Eruption).
Citing “priority realignment,” the president has requested a 15 percent cut from the budget of the U.S. Geological Survey for the coming fiscal year. The budget proposal would eliminate implementation of an earthquake early warning system for the West Coast, the Geomagnetism Program that would aid in the forecasting of geomagnetic storms, and an immediate suspension of the National Volcano Early Warning System. This last aspect is particularly worrisome, as Washington’s Mount Rainier has shown recent signs of renewed activity.
JOURNAL ENTRY #3
October 1
I’m sorry I wasn’t more open during our session. I shouldn’t have used up all our time talking about how beautiful it is up here. Avoidance? You’re probably right.
And I’m sorry I haven’t written more this whole week. Too busy settling in. No, that’s not all. I’m still getting used to the idea of writing stuff down. Even in this letter format you recommended. Yes, it’s easier to write once I get going, but the idea of sitting down every day, talking about what I’ve done. Not even on paper, not even to myself. It’s just hard. Looking in.
And, to be fair, there’s a lot to get used to.
I know telecommuting isn’t new. But it is for me. I never realized how much I craved the structure of going into an office; dedicated work space, work people, work time.
At least the house is comfortable. So much nicer than our rental back in Venice. Clean, high-tech, effortless. Frank even told us that he’d left a “housewarming present.” Literally. All that methane in the biodigester. Every time I think about sleeping, eating, living above a giant tank of my brother’s poo, I just try to remember that it’s also one less bill to pay.
Unpacking’s been slow, breaking down all those boxes, organizing all our stuff. It’s all gotta be just right, you know me. A place for everything, and everything in its place.
I have been settling into a nice routine though. I need that. Structure. I wake up every morning with this majestic view right outside my window. The tall, green trees rising up to the top of the ridge behind the house. The way the leaves sparkle in the sun. The birdsong alarm clock. Not that I’ve ever needed one. Always up, always ready. But it’s so nice, for a change, to rise with excitement instead of nerves. I can’t remember the last time I did that. Middle school? When was the last time I didn’t open my eyes with a mental checklist ticking in my brain? Stuff to do. Problems to solve.
I still have them, of course, but knowing that my day will start with a hike in the woods helps. I’ve been doing that every morning. Up and dressed, quietly as I can so as not to wake up Dan, and out the door. Easier to be quiet when you don’t have to worry about turning off a burglar alarm. Nobody sets theirs, no need! Then out and up the trail behind the house.
Dawn is so peaceful here. Just me and the sun, and Yvette! She’s up way before anyone, in the Common House, teaching online classes around the globe. I haven’t brought myself to take one yet. Even though she won’t charge me. “Just perch yourself behind the webcam and it’ll feel like a private lesson.” I keep meaning to do it. Too intimidating, and, let’s be honest, it does get in the way of my hike!
I can’t believe I get to do this whenever I want! Will it ever get old? How can it? I love that crisp, cool air in my lungs, on my cheeks, down my back when I warm up enough to take off my fleece. Frank warned me about when the weather turns, in a month or so, when it supposedly nosedives into real cold. I won’t mind. It’ll be nice to have real winters again, like we did back east.
So far, I’ve been doing the same hike every day, the trail that loops around the neighborhood up to the ridge that overlooks everything. And I do mean everything!
Mount Rainier is out of a storybook. The white peak rising in the distance. The morning light turning its snow an orange pink. You’d expect a princess to live in a castle on the summit, or an angry dragon to sleep under its base. Sounds crazy, but I feel strangely safe every morning when I see Rainier, like it’s watching over us. I know the tremors we’ve been feeling (we’ve had one or two since that first time at dinner) are coming from the mountain, but I can’t reconcile them with this protective giant ruling all he surveys.