Rae and Jay on the Beach.

Rachel and Jay Tying the Knot

Dancing with Dad is always fun!

Rachel during her Smoke Jumper Days

Below is a collection of Emails sent from Rachel to Family and Friends during her Smoke Jumping adventures.



Friday August 5th 2005


So, I am sure it is no secret that smokejumpers are superstitious.  Not just jumpers I guess, but firefighters in general.  And it more than just the popular jinxing and knocking on wood.  On the hotshots, when we rolled to a fire call, we were not allowed to put on our "Yellows" (nomex shirts) until we could physically see the smoke.  We would ride,  bouncing to and fro through the traffic, our hearts pounding, straining to see out the tiny windows to catch the first glimpse, to be the first to bark out "Smoke showing!"  And then scramble like mad to get dressed and be ready to run when the wheels stopped rolling.  And during a slow period in the fire season, you can appease Big Ernie the fire god with a sacrifice; making plans, an appointment, or hurting yourself with a long run, hard work out or late night out.  And with in any given jump base, there is a good deal bunch.  So far this year, I, along with 3 of my bros, have been riding on the good deal train.  When a good deal comes up, our names are somehow on the top of the jump rotation list, and we leave the others behind.  But this can't go on for long.  There is, inevitably, one good deal jumper, with 3 of us riding on his coat tails.  Like a rich kid who only has friends on allowance day, only one of us is the actually good deal jumper.  And there is only one way to find out who the good deal jumper is.  

   After our trip through Nevada and Utah, we came back and were sent down to San Bernardino hot on the trail of fierce thunderstorms that started in Mexico and moved North along the mountains.  Our first jump was into the high desert, where I came in so hard my helmet was knocked off and I sat lost for a second before I could gather my wits.  A relatively small fire that earned us extra money with the minimum amount of work (good deal).  Well, we did have to pick a fire beetle out of my rookie bro Joey's ear with a leatherman, and that was kind of hard.  But it could have been worse.  And with in a day or so of getting back into civilization,  we broke another fire.  But this one was close enough that they sent us in trucks to "pound" it.  Well, not US.  The good deal four was at the bottom of the list and so we were left behind, pouting and feeling a bit sorry for ourselves.  But with in minutes of the fire call we got another.  And this one a jump into the San Gorgonio Wilderness.  A beautiful fire, next to a babbling brook and with a trail running right through the middle.  (Yet another Good deal)  We lined the fire easily and as we faded off to sleep, our bellies full of exra food, our radio picked up a one sided conversation of our bros, sweating hard into the night on a steep, ugly fire that, try as they may, they could not catch. (bad deal)  Within another day our good deal four was done and, after a helicopter picked up our heavy gear with a long line, we hiked the trail out, six miles of beautiful untouched wilderness.  We somehow beat the others back and got back to the top of the list and so, after our required day off we were bounced back down to San Bernardino.  Where we got another call.  This one back to Redding, and we need someone to drive our truck back.  (Big Gulp) Donovan, one of the good deal four, stepped up.  And so we all flew back leaving him 10 hours behind with the truck.  With in an hour of arriving in Redding, we were called to boost the Remond, Or. smokejumper base, 3 of the original four continuing on.  One night there, and the next morning a call comes for 8 jumpers in Grangeville, Id., splitting the last three down to 2; Dean and I flew out leaving Caleb behind.  We laugh as we taxi out, high fiving and congradulating each other on our extremely good luck and their extremely bad luck.  And here we have sat.  For days.  the rest of the Grangeville smokejumper base has all been jumped out on fires, and when it came down to us, the fires just ran out.  Rumor has it the other bases have all continued to jump.  Donovan and Caleb included.  I refuse to think that they have good dealed off to another spot on the list, rather that they have found someother good dealer to mooch off of, and my good luck is just holding out for a really good fire.  A really, really good fire.  SOON. Rachel    





Sunday July 3rd 2005


Hey guys!  Finally, a fire that we didn't have to light!  (we light fires on prescribed burns, nothing illegal)  We were all prepared to go back and complete the precribed burn when we got the call to Nevada.  And we were up and gone with in a 10 minutes before they could change their minds!  Unfortunatly, my pack was full of prescribed fire stuff, extra water, canned food, playing cards, chipmunk harnesses, and anything else you can think of that you would NOT want to be carrying around on your back for days at a time.  Pretty much as soon as we left the ground, I started ralphing.  The air was unbelievably rough and sent the entire contents of the plane airborne into the ceiling on several occasions.  We discoverd another couple fires on the way (that lightning was really going to town) and began circling one, in hopes of jumping the plane load.  As we knelt around the tiny windows to see the fire, the wings bent, twisted and wrinkled, writhing in the wind and struggling to catch our DC-3 plane and keep her in the air.  Now, if I haven't told you before, this plane is no spring chicken, and if she was I would still have reservations, because I have seen chickens try to fly.  Several years ago on the off season she was used to run med supplies for the red cross in Africa and consequentially has  bullet holes running along her belly.  And the day they brought her into Redding this year, they hit the side of the building with the left wing, currently flapping desperatly.  Black Bob, (hated rookie trainer and ironically spotting for us on this fire jump) decided to throw a couple guys anyway.  The first one to hit the ground landed in the black(inside the fire) and burned his chute.  The second on the ground hit hard, and after shaking the stars off, he called the plane by the wrong name and advised against throwing any more jumpers.  (minor knock on the head and he should recover some time soon)  So we headed into Mesquite where I threw away the 6 used puke bags and attempted to rehydrate.  There were some jumpers from Boise, one of whom being Lisa Allen, who I worked with in Alaska last year, at the academy this spring and who is also angaged to an Alaska smokejumper.  She had just come off of a fire that went bad and burned up everyone's jump gear.  No one was injured, but they were confined to the ground for the time being.  The next morning, before the wind could pick up again, we got out and dropped the remaining jumpers on a fire just North of Las Vegas.  But apparantly all of the other fires were more important, because they never got around to giving us any more resources.  Including food or water.  So once the 16 of us put out the 97 acre fire and ran out of drinking water, we sat down, refusing to work until they resupplied us.  And in the down time I lost 9 dollars in a game of 31.  Oh the humanity!  After four or five days they pulled us off the hill and sent us into Odgen Utah to stage.  Where I won back my pride with a game of Scrabble, and the word "fava".  Luckily we didn't have a dictionary present, because it was later brough to my attention that "fava" is not found in the dictionary.  A day late and a dollar short!  During my run one morning before work, I befriended a local vagrant who commended me on my healthy practice of running and my pullups.  Did you know that it only takes 1 week of panhandling to get the money to buy a one way bus ticket to Florida?  It's true.  Only a day or so spent in the local Marriott and we were off to another fire, this one just outside of Nephi Ut.  One of our jumper, Dylan, took over this fire as a training assignment.  As the IC, you have the option of nameing it.  Unfortunatly dispatch had already done so, depriving the Utah state fire history of the "Fudgepants Fire", named after the newly coined Dylan Bob Fudgepants.  Don't ask where the name comes from.  Please. Only a couple of days before we were flown off, and back to Ogden.  And not to long after that, the Redding dog catcher (AKA: DC-3) made it's rounds through all of Utah and Nevada picking up all of the firefighters scattered there in.  So as of Fri night, we are back in Reddng.  Except for those who were sent to Alaska while we were gone. (drat!)  Not all bad.  I have some invitations waiting, and Dylan has some laundry to do. Rachel


Saturday June 18th 2005


No, I haven't died or dropped off the face of the earth.  Because if that were the case I would at least have something substantial to write about!  This is starting off to be the slowest fire season of my career, which is probably good for now, because I have taken on the challenge of making my own wedding invitations.  Not printing out the invitation packets you can buy, but actually stamping, cutting and glueing each invitation, rsvp, and envelope.  As if the rainy, stormy weather isn't enough to keep me indoors.  Around the smokejumper base, things are painfully slow.  We are making a new fire line pack this year to accomodate the new fire shelters(shaped more like a hotdog bun than a tent and WAY heavier) so I have had alot of practice at tracing and cutting, and am now getting pretty good at sewing, picking out stitches and re-sewing them.  Alot of sewing. 
But just when you would think that you couldn't possibly sew another stitch or eat another ice cream bar(I have been doing quite a bit of that, also) a project assignment came along!  The Lassen Nation Park had a prescribed burn planned.  The biggest one in the history of the park, and lucky for them, Rachel was high enough on the list to go!  It was planned to be one week long camping on our own, and so, the night before we left, we all went out and bought 7 days worth of food.  Cans of soup, PB and J, and an arm load of coco.  The weather unfortunatly did not cooperate.  Our 7 days turned into 3 days burning, snowing us out on the 4th day.  But not before I kicked some serious hiney and won 21$ playing cards,  caught a chipmunk(the whole "put a cracker under a box and prop it up with a stick" works!), fashioned a harness and took it for strolls around the campground, encountered an impressivly large sow and 2 cubs, and made myself gag with my own B.O.  Did I mention that I have given up antiperspirant?
And to top things off, when I got back to the base, I had a moochy-smoochy, mooshy-gooshy, lovey-dovey letter from the greatest man who ever lived, and some thank you's from Ms. Sackett's 2nd grade class, who I visited with my smoke jumping garb earlier this year.  And according to them I am "vary nis".  They really liked doing push ups with me and feeling the material of my jump suit.  And I quote: "I hop you go to are class ugen.  I like you to helpe me wif yor stuf ugen.  I wot to fil yor stuf ugen."    And suddenly all of this boring rain doesn't matter at all, and I am haveing a great time! 
Rachel
No, I won't share what was in Jay's letter.



Thursday May 5th 2005


I have noticed that the majority of my emails start out with some sort of apology or excuse for not writing sooner.

I received quite a few responses to my last email, in reference to the brevity of my mention of  a certain "Mr. Jay Franklin".  And so this email should clarify any questions and bring everyone up to date.  

It all began 4 years ago, when a simple, wide eyed optomist set out from her Washington mountain home heading south towards Los Angeles, in search of her future, her fortune, and what ever life may bring.  Namely the Texas Canyon Hotshots.  Straight off the bat, all the guys asked me if I knew Jay Franklin, who had been on the hotshot crew the year before and was also from Washington.  As luck would have it, I didn't know him, as is the case with some other residents of Washington.  Any how, I was informed that he had left the hotshot crew to continue his career as a pilot, at which point I lost all interest, because pilots are a bunch of snobs.  So, fast forward to last year's fire trip to Alaska.  While wearing a Texas Canyon Hotshot t-shirt I was approached by a handsome gentleman who mentioned that he owned a shirt just like mine.  Now, if I haven't mentioned it before, there are only 2 ways to get a hotshot shirt.  One way requires spending a season on said crew, and and the other requires a relationship (not appropriate outside of marriage) with a member of said crew.  Preferably a member of the opposite sex.  And so you understand my hesitation at his statement.  But once it was straightened out, I found that this was the Jay Franklin I had heard about, now a pilot for the Alaska Smokejumpers (earned his hotshot shirt the hard way).  And so we sat and talked, our conversation going something like, "So you know Lumpy?"  "Yeah!  So you know Temo?"  "Yeah!  So you know JT?"  "Yeah!  So you know..."  This continued for about 30 minutes, we got off work and I saw him only in passing until I left Alaska, each passing acknowledged by a nod.  Hit the fast forward again, but not for too long, to the Texas Canyon Hotshot 50th reunion this past fall.  Every  firefighter who had ever been on the crew was invited, around 300 showing up.  Jay had a rental car and I didn't, and so he gave me a ride from the dinner to the BBQ the next day.  He mentioned that he was going to be in Washington over the winter and I suggested we stay in touch and go snowboarding sometime.  Well, it decided not to snow this winter and so the ski resorts were all closed, so he hung out with Sebena, sweet little Ruthie and I for the day, and the rest is history.

About one week into it, I knew that I was going to spend the rest of my life with him. Whether he knew it or not.  But don't worry, he wasn't to far behind me.  It wasn't long after my last email that, at the cold, wet, rainy base of Snoqualmie Falls, Mr. Jay Franklin asked me to be his Mrs.  

And so, at the end of this fire season,  I will be getting married to the man God has had planned for me from the beginning.  Transitioning from "my life" to "our life" leaving my old life behind with my old name.  Ah, how poetic.  And I am sure that my new life will be nothing but roses, footrubs and sweet smelling bath salts.  And I will be sorely disappointed at anything else.  You here that, Jay? Rachel I have also noticed that, in general, guilt is an emotion that is overused by women, which therefore robs it of all it's validity.  And so from now on, I do hereby renounce any acknowledgement of guilt or resposibility of any sort.  If fact I may wait an extra day before I send out my email, just on principle.  So, getting down to bussiness.





Wednesday April 6th 2005
It has been so long!  I am afraid that everyone has given up and moved on, erasing my email from their address book, left with nothing more than a few amusing memories and the briefest wiff of smoke.  I have no real good explination.  I guess I just burned out.  I finished off the last fire season with a month in New Jersey climbing and inspectiong trees for the asian longhorn beetle.  I spent Thanksgiving back there, as luck woulf have it with my HUGEly preg cousin Misty(AKA Misty-Misty 2 by 4) and her family.  I had the most wonderful Christmas ever with my ENTIRE other side of the family, getting to know my cousins from the other side of the country(they aren't as weird as you would think).  My greatest friend Andrea DiTommasso became Andrea Hyland and I got to wear a periwinkle dress and white pumps to celebrate the occasion.  I spent a week back down in Venezuela and smuggled some forbidden goods and American dollars into a missionary(it's a long story).  Ross and Sebena had another little girl, Naomi, although I can't imagine anything sweeter than their first little girl Ruthie.  When she is not screaming.  I met Jay Franklin, that man I plan to marry sometime this next year.  I spent a glorious week in Costa Rica with Jenny(my best friend since the ripe old age of 3) and possibly brough back a tapeworm(who I have named Elizabeth).  

   I came back on the books down here in California the 3rd of March, working as an assitant crewboss for the fire academy in Sacramento.  And yes, this is the same academy I attended as a student 2 or 3 years ago.  I just had so much fun the first go around that I decided to give 'er another go!  This was a small academy of 80 students or so, 15 belonging to me(yes, I owned them).  And, as luck would have it, at the end of the academy the students voted and I recieved "The Crewboss Award", the first time it has ever been given to an assitant.  (applause)  Thank you.  (applause)  Please, you are to kind.  This was pretty good considering I unknowingly spent half of one day running around with an extra pair of underwear hanging off the ballpoint pen in my back pocket.

   Oh, did I mention Jay Franklin?  There are an awful lot of broken hearted ladies out there right now, because I have somehow fooled this incredible man into my grasp.  And I don't plan on letting go.  And the last time I was in an arcade, the joystick machine told me I have a "Gorilla Grip", so let that be your warning.  We haven't know each other for that long, only been hanging out for a couple months or so, but what they say is true.  When he is the right one, you just know!  Anywho, it is a long story.  He is a pilot for the Alaska smokejumpers, I am a smokejumper in California, and it is going to be a long summer.

    I hope that you can forgive me for not writing for so long.  Sometimes a gal just needs some space.  You know, a little "me time" to smuggle stuff into foriegn countries and wave her underwear in strangers faces. Rachel