By Amy Hirshberg Lederman
The Arizona Daily Star, August 11, 2003
“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times” were the words that ran
though my mind the first time I encountered the devastation wrought by the Aspen
fire on Mount Lemmon almost a month ago.
I struggled to locate something familiar – a porch light, a bird house, anything
at all, as my husband and I hiked the streets of upper Loma Linda trying to
remember the details of what had been there. For over twenty years we have
visited, hiked, picnicked and camped on this mountain. For more than fourteen
years, we have owned a small cabin which became a sacred retreat for our family
and friends. I can’t remember a single time that we visited Mt. Lemmon when we
didn’t return refreshed and renewed from the simple pleasures of hiking its cool
trails, sitting on our deck listening to the birds, cooking dinner together,
reading books. Even our kids didn’t mind the absence of television or video
games; they seemed to sense that our time on the mountain brought out the best
in all of us.
Walking past the rubble, ash, and melted structures where houses used to be was
traumatic. But watching the faces of my neighbors, searching through the molten
debris to find the remains of anything that would connect them to their home and
life on the mountain was simply heartbreaking.
I reflexively held my breath as we walked into the town of Summerhaven. It
looked as close to a war zone as anything I have ever seen with one notable
exception; the multitude of eager volunteers stationed in make-shift tents who
provided us with useful supplies, food, water bottles and emotional support.
The U.S. Natural Resources Conservation Service and the Pima County Flood
Control District gave us bags of seed and bales of hay to help us begin the
re-vegetation efforts which were hauled up the mountain and unloaded by the
Arizona National Guard. My family and I donned face masks and heavy cotton
gloves before we began the difficult work of seeding the steep slope around our
cabin, then dragging heavy bales of hay across the blackened ground to mulch it.
I’ll admit that I had my doubts whether our novice, somewhat haphazard effort at
re-vegetating the land would result in anything more than the allergic reaction
I had to the hay that found its way into my jacket sleeves and boots.
So I was thrilled beyond belief when we went up to Mt. Lemmon this past weekend
and saw the most amazing sight- lots of beautiful, shiny green shoots of new
grass popping up from the earth that had been burnt and barren less than 3 weeks
before. Everywhere we looked, there were signs of new growth. Trees stumps were
now surrounded by clusters of proud, new leaves and bouquets of columbine,
daisies and lupine greeted us along the road.
The Aspen fire will leave its mark on everyone who ever lived, worked or visited
Mt. Lemmon. In the aftermath of the fire, we should look with optimism at what
we can do to restore our national treasure. Through efforts like re-vegetating
the land and rebuilding the many homes and businesses that were lost, we have an
opportunity to create a stronger, more vibrant community. It will undoubtedly be
a difficult, expensive, and time consuming process, but we have before us the
chance to construct a beautiful, more thoughtful and community-based mountain
for future generations to enjoy.
Back to Stories home
