While I was sleeping early this morning a parade of images were running through my
head. They were all the faces and pictures that have been on the web, social media and
in the news from 9/11. It was like a photo album of those who died that day were
running through my dreams this early morning. I just kept scrolling, one to another for at
least two hours. It was comforting in some ways and a bit mystifying in other ways. Why
me and why now.

It will be 25 years since that horrible day this Friday. It’s a day none of us including my
children will ever forget. Yet there has been a whole generation born after 9/11 including
all my grandchildren. Can they even understand how the world shifted that day. The
USA was struck by terrorist. Europe, Asia and African countries regularly faced
terrorism. Home grown like the Irish Troubles, outside the country coming in such as
Isreal or dissidents from within a country. Yes, we had small incidents including the
earlier bombing of the world trade center but nothing like this happened to the USA. We
were isolated from the rest of the world by two oceans. We were special or so we
thought.

That day deeply wounded our countries sense of pride, self-worth and invulnerability.
Much has the home grown terrorists Timothy McVey and Terry Nichols did when they
bombed the Murrah Federal Building in Oklahoma City on April 19, 1995. Who can
forget the broken bodies of children being carried by first responders from the site. 168
lives were torn asunder that day. But they were home grown, from inside the country.
Radicals from the far right anti-government groups. We don’t have a national
remembrance of that act of terrorism like we do for 9/11 because it was different. In
some ways it is sad since so many babies died that day, not on 9/11.
9/11 has become the beacon for this country. It showed the ultimate sacrifice people
could make for their fellow humans and country. First responders going into the twin
towers that never came out. Multiple people, ordinary people, within the twin towers who
helped their fellow survivors of the initial plane crash out only to perish themselves
because they stayed behind. The group on 93 who knew they would die when the
fought the hijackers to prevent others from dying elsewhere with the icon last words
from Todd Beamer “Let’s Roll.” The phone calls and airphone calls are now being made
public from those on the ill-fated airplanes.

It’s hard to believe it’s been 25 years. Being in California met the four planes that
crashed before we were even awake. I always went to work early. I dropped my sons off
at their day care and then went into the office. I was working on a special project in the
Supervisors Office. It was about 0700 PDT. I walked in the door, no one was there. It
was early but we usually had folks around. People were in the conference room huddle
around a very small color TV. It was New York City; the tower south tower had just

collapsed as I walked in. We all watched in horror what was happening before our eyes.
Then the replay of the two planes crashing in. No one really knew about Flight 93 at that
point, only that a fourth plane was being looked for. I called my husband, a USFS
Battalion Chief who was still sleeping. “Turn on the TV. Any channel, we are under
attack.” The apparatus that was the federal government was soon in motion. First, all
firefighters and law enforcement officers were called into work, which took some time.
We were told to get ready for airplanes to potentially land at the small airport in Bishop
and the bigger airport by Mammoth. I went out to help dispatch as orders were being
relayed fast and furious from the military to all aircraft. All aircraft had to set down now.
There were issues with USFS helicopters that were dispatched to fires. Surely, you don’t
want us to set down in the middle of nowhere when there is a fire to be fought. Fighter
jets were sent up to reinforce, yes set down now. It was scary for some crews. One
helicopter ended up far away from any town or even a road in Nevada near Area 51,
having been forced down by fighters from Nellis Air Force Base. We didn’t have social
media then. They had no clue what had happened. We barely had good cells phones by
then that weren’t bricks but small flip phones. We got confused radio calls from folks on
the fire line, what the hell is going on?

It was eerie later that day to see no aircraft in the sky except fighters. Living between
China Lake to the south, Fallon to the west and Lemoore over the Sierra’s met we were
used to fighters buzzing our folks on the fire lines, buzzing hikers on Mt. Whitney and
even flying on the deck along US Highway 395. That was all in play for the fighter pilots,
now they were deadly serious. No waving and smiling as they flew by. It was all
business.

Then more things changed for us in California’s Owen Valley. We had the Sierra’s and
Whites at over 14,000 feet with a valley at 4,000 feet. We were the only place that was
close to Afghanistan in mountain ranges, elevation and isolation. All of a sudden my
recreation staff began to find MRE’s packages in the trash cans, fire in closed
campgrounds, helicopters flying low on mock strafing runs. My town of Big Pine was the
Sangin Valley location apparently. Convoys traveling between the Mountain Warfare
Center to the North and Desert Warfare Center to the south. Miles and miles of military
vehicles being hauled through town on a regular basis.

A short, wiry, man with graying high and tight hair came into my office one day. The
receptionist’s face was a bit white. “I don’t know who to have him talk with. I can’t say
much. Can you deal with him? The Ranger is gone.” “Sure.” He came in and sat down. I
had dealt with special operations folks before on the Angeles and Cleveland National
Forests both at work and on fires. I recognized one right off the bat. He was very
pleasant, couldn’t give me many details but they needed to hike Mt. Whitney. It was
imperative. Now Mt. Whitney is tourist city, it’s a damn mad house with 100 people

going up from our side a day not to mention all the people hiking to it off the John Muir
and Pacific Crest trail or from the two surrounding National Parks. People reserved
permits way in advanced and pay well for the privilege. I made a couple calls to the
Forest Supervisor. He was a Wilderness purist. No, even the military couldn’t just hike
Mt. Whitney when they wanted. It’s wilderness and highly regulated.

I asked him what do you really need? The elevation difference? The climbing routes on
Whitney cause we have much harder routes elsewhere on the forest. Or do you need
primitive terrain without much human interaction? Primitive terrain with lots of elevation
gain. I then told him about the White Mountains, which go up to 14,000 feet too, are way
less well known and have areas that probably have never seen a human. Yes, there is
wilderness around Boundary Peak, the highest peak in Nevada but we do not require
permits there. You can have most of that range to yourselves. I gave him several forest
maps, my number and he gave me his card. Coronado California, Master Chief XXXX. I
became his go to person for three years for things that were needed for training. Then
he stopped coming in. I always wondered if he was still alive. The SEALS lost many
during the initial few years of the war.

We collected MRE boxes for a bit before it got old. We had boxes from all the US allies
in NATO at one point. UK SAS was the most often ones seen besides the US ones.
Things would just appear at night. They did use the trash cans and cleaned up after
themselves. The helicopter and fighter using the valley to practice bombing runs
tapered off after the first year too. We would still get a convoy coming through from time
to time. Yes, 9/11 changed everything in the US. I do wonder if it is the basis for the
divisive atmosphere now. The hatred that is out in the open. Maybe that is the legacy of
the 9/11 hijackers, they changed the whole fabric of the US and now 25 years later we
are infighting and further apart than we have been since the 1930’s. Maybe in that area
they won. Something to think about.