Sketchbook dispatches from the sky

Our campout in a 65-foot fire tower

Last week, my husband and I spent a day and a night in the sky. Here’s what it was like, told through quick sketches and notes as I attempted to capture the magic of the experience.

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7:00 PM

We haul our sleeping bags, snacks, sketching supplies, and books up all 69 steps of the Thorny Mountain Fire Tower and make ourselves at home in the rustic, 1-room lookout perch. There are just two single cots, a tiny stool, and a trash can inside. There’s no electricity, and yet the sweeping views of the West Virginia mountains in every direction make it feel like the fanciest accommodations around. We open all the windows and the wind from every direction reminds me of being on a ship’s deck.

7:30 PM

We break into the snacks that were leftover from our day of hiking and use a deconstructed cracker box to create a charcuterie board. This is the only fire tower East of the Mississippi that is available to rent overnight, so despite having booked it a full year prior we somehow neglected to think about bringing epic snacks to go with the epic view. Somehow, even our humble sustenance tastes better in the sky.

8:00 PM

We venture out onto the narrow deck that wraps around the tower and whisper to match the stillness of the air. The silence is punctuated only by the soft, mechanical murmur of swarms of pin-sized gnats, the low rumple of an airplane, the guttural remarks of a passing raven. I hear the grass softly part in the open meadow below, a collective of does grazing on the tall grasses. A barred owl cries! Now, an indigo bunting chimes in with its clear, loud song. Chip-bird, chip-bird, a scarlet tanager calls.

Now it seems far from silent, but we still whisper so we don’t miss a thing. One precious night in the sky, eye-level with the birds. Wind flutters through the folds of my flannel jacket and now I’m studying the almost-full moon with my binoculars. Why don’t I do this more often? It’s reassuring to think of entire canyons and craters and mountains existing on the moon, mountains maybe as big as the ones I’m surrounded by now. I sketch the moon and gain perspective.

8:47 PM

The sun begins to set and we grab our sketching supplies and scurry to the opposite deck to get a clear look at the sherbet-colored skies. Our attention snaps from the sky to the ground when a deer lets out a startling SNORT and the herd bounds from the meadow into the woods. At first, we don’t see a predator—what might have startled them?

Then comes a series of snapping sounds from the trees and a big ol’ black bear slowly ambles into the meadow, taking its time as it inspects each fallen log and stump for insects to nibble on. Our jaws open wide and I let out a whispered No freaking way! as we watch the bear mosey along for a few glorious minutes. I’ve seen black bears many times before, but they always see me first and are startled and running before I get a good look. This time, we remain undetected from our lookout in the clouds and it’s a joy to watch this giant animal enjoy its evening stroll, perfectly at ease.

9:00 PM

We go to bed with the sun. We keep the windows open and it’s a totally still and silent night, save for the mouse in the walls who aggressively chews on wood every so often. How in the world did a mouse climb 69 metal stairs to make its home in the walls? we wonder.

5:20 AM

Intense sunlight and an almost-deafening bird chorus wake us up much earlier than we expected. From my vantage point on my cot, all I can see out the windows is pale blue and pink sky. It feels like waking up on an airplane. Not wanting to miss a single moment of the sunrise, I walk out to the deck and crack open my watercolor set.

6:00 AM

I pour myself a cup of lukewarm coffee and try to notice everything. I’ve always felt like my role in an ancient civilization would have been the lookout person—I can hear extremely well and love to observe closely. This experience confirms that suspicion. Here in the tower, every moment is a golden opportunity to see without being seen. I’m in my element.

7:00 AM

With only a few hours left in the tower, we decide to enjoy some relaxing reading time. My eyes dance back and forth from the pages of my historical novel to the layers of blue mountains out every window. I wonder if they’d let us rent it out for a month? we muse. We should come back sometime in the fall. Isn’t that just human nature? When something is so good, we want to repeat it over and over. And yet I know that we’ll never quite be able to relive this experience. So we head back down the tower stairs, sketchbook pages in hand and memories clear as last night’s sky.