Updated September 21, 2024 at 05:00 AM ET
Imagine a chain of mountains in the wilds of northern New York state, the towers on their rocky summits lit on a single night like giant beacons.
This lighting ceremony marks the end of every summer in New York’s Adirondack and Catskill Parks and honors the fire watchers who once lived in the high country. For half a century, they served as a line of defense against devastating forest fires.
On a mild September evening, Jake O’Connell and Scott Sabo headed into the woods on Goodnow Mountain near Newcomb, New York. It's a tiny mountain town north of Albany.
Their headlamps picked out roots and tocks as shadows deepened over the steep trail. In their backpacks, the men carried bigger lamps and jugs of fuel.
"We’ve got our good old-school Coleman propane lanterns, relatively bright," O'Connell said. "This is how we’ve been doing it here."
O’Connell is a young guy with a big mustache who works for New York's state forestry school. This historic fire tower, built in 1922, sits on the school's property.
Scott Sabo also boasts a mustache, as well as a quick grin. He's the New York forest ranger who patrols this remote corner of the Adirondack Park.
According to Sabo, New York’s fire towers and the men who served in them offered a line of defense for mountain communities, saving lives.
"In their time staffing the towers, there was legitimate fire danger, mainly from poor logging practices," he said.
Fires in the 1900s were big and frequent, scorching whole mountain ranges and burning homes and businesses. When watchers spotted smoke in the distance, they used radios or primitive telephone systems to raise the alarm.
After an hour of climbing, O’Connell and Sabo reached the summit. With the tower looming overhead, they began prepping their lanterns.
"The ethos of being lonely on the mountain"
A decade ago, volunteers organized this ritual to remember the fire watchers. On this one night in late summer, crews gathered at 23 of New York's remaining towers.
"We don’t staff fire towers, but it’s still our past," Sabo said, explaining why he takes part in the ceremony every year.
"It’s still the ethos of being lonely on the mountain, hard work in the backcountry. That’s still a tenet of us."
With their gear ready, the men climbed the tower’s steep wooden staircase. Sixty feet up, above the tree line, the view opened, and O’Connell paused to take in the last trace of daylight.
"Really beautiful, sun kind of setting, just little bits of pink through the sky," he described. "We can see a couple mountain ranges still with some storm clouds and fog behind them."
Many of these towers offer wilderness views that stretch in every direction. You can feel how isolated the fire observers were keeping vigil here.
In the Goodnow Mountain tower’s little cabin, O’Connell and Sabo knelt out of the wind to make final preparations. In the full dark, with the stars shining overhead, it was time.
They sparked the lamps, the gas bulbs hissing, and a warm glow pushed back the night.
"It’s tradition to read some of the names of fire tower observers," O'Connell said, taking out a slip of paper. "William Bailey would have been the first fire tower observer here, followed by John Cays and George Shaughnessy."
After the names were read, the men shielded their eyes from the light and peered out, spotting the glow from two other towers lit by volunteers on other mountains.
"Over to our south," Sabo pointed out. "There are Blue and Owl’s Head [Mountains]!"
New York’s fire towers were all decommissioned beginning in the 1970s as new technology and fire-fighting techniques became available.
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