Emergency status
As a fan of history, photography, and the great outdoors, it was only a matter of time before I fell head over heels for fire lookouts. From the moment I set foot in my first one, I was hooked—not just on the towers themselves, but on the stories of the men and women who built, maintained, and lived in them.
These days, most weekends are spent chasing those stories: hiking, backpacking, or bouncing down some forgotten forest road. If there’s a lookout involved, I’m in.
Built under Ed Pulaski’s watch, this 1920s D-6 lookout was lost to wildfire in 1936. Remnants and a the foundation of a second structure remain.
Drive-up site named for Ed Pulaski. Summit is clean with footings and a benchmark still present, but little else remains.
The visible remnants align with historic photos of the original L-4, which sat just below the summit.
All four footings are still present, along with wire and metal scraps. No photos of the L-4 have surfaced, but the views from the knob are stunning.
Photo by Mark Moak The lookout community is a network of unique souls. A bunch of people who are perfectly comfortable being alone on a mountaintop for weeks or months at a time, but who light up the minute they’re in a room full of others who get it. People who’ve spent their lives scanning the horizon, and people, like us, who’ve spent ours scanning old maps...