His Last Shift

March 26, 2015
Star Mine Trail, Black Diamond Regional Preserve, Antioch, CA
Total distance walked: 4.8 miles

Julia and I embarked on a 140-mile journey to Fire Station 82 to join my husband for his final 24-hour shift as Fire Captain. Throughout the day, engine companies, friends, and family members came by to bid him a heartfelt farewell. After 27 years of dedicated service with the Contra Costa County Fire Protection District, he was retiring. By dinner, it was just the crew and family gathered around the table until they were called out on a run. The tires screeched on the polished concrete floor, and the engine roared to life as they pulled out of the apparatus bay.

The following morning, Julia and I set out on foot from the eastern edge of Black Diamond Regional Preserve. It’s conveniently located near both the fire station and my parents’ house, where we had stayed the night. Our goal was to reach the Star Mine, one of the last active coal mines in the region.

The parking lot was packed, and the multiuse trail bustled with bikers, day hikers, power walkers, and runners—some with dogs on leashes and others roaming freely. Julia and I walked briskly to maintain a good distance from the crowd until we encountered a herd of cows. They had gathered under a tree in the shade blocking the trail. On our way back, we left the trail to walk around the cows still blocking the path.

“Hey cow! Hey cow!” I shouted, clapping my hands. The cows looked up but stayed put. A family approached from the opposite side of the trail. “I’ll move them,” the man called out. But before he could act, his dog barked and charged towards the cows, sending them running in our direction. He quickly called the dog back, and I let out a faint scream as a large black heifer trotted towards us.

We squeezed past the calves and their mothers, then continued on our way. On our way back, we veered off the trail to walk around the cows, who were still blocking the path.

I had walked this section of the trail in winter with Joseph when it was devoid of wildflowers. But this time, in early spring, the hillsides burst with color: patches of purple and white lupine, magenta owl clover, and vibrant yellow field mustard adorned the landscape.

The sun warmed our shoulders as we walked. Squirrels chased each other through the lush fields occasionally kicking up dust. A quintet of buzzards circled ominously in the clear sky. We heard the gobble-gobble of turkeys and spotted two in the distance roaming the hillside. Julia let out a turkey call attracting a few more clucks from unseen birds.

We strolled down the narrow path, chatting about wedding plans: the dress, the cake, the food, and more. We reminisced about how her dad loved coming up to the hills with his crew in the springtime. They would drive the Type 3 wildland rig and survey the fire trails. It was a pleasant and peaceful part of his job.

We walked past the shallow, murky waters of Sand Creek, and just beyond the Star Mine Group Camp, the hillside transformed into a sea of blue Brodiaea. It was an unexpected and breathtaking sight, the perfect spot to photograph wildflowers.

We carefully ascended the hill, following an animal path—or perhaps the tracks of another adventurer—to get a closer look.

We sat amidst the vibrant parade of flowers, and took turns with the camera, each trying to capture the perfect shot.

Back on the trail, we contemplated making a loop hike but, unsure of the distance or route, decided to retrace our steps back to the car.

While Julia and I were out hiking that morning, Captain Chris and his crew responded to Chris’s final call, driving Code 3 with lights and sirens blaring.

When the call was finished, they returned to the station. Chris hung up his jacket, cleaned out his locker, and said his goodbyes to the crew at Station 82—his home away from home. Thus, his long career dedicated to the preservation of life, property, and the environment came to an end.

I am looking forward to spending many hours exploring the trails with my newly retired husband.