“Our morning yoga was interrupted by a car full of apologetic park rangers, informing us of a control burn.
The next day I watched as a band of firefighters set the underbrush surrounding Devil’s Tower ablaze.
The smoke masked the pillar that we had craned our necks to size up that morning.
The fire, at first under control, soon jumped the road and began burning private land.
We returned from the west face that evening to learn we were the only ones left in the park, that extra manpower was required, that the situation had gone federal.
We fell asleep that night to the sound of firetrucks pulling into the campground.
The next morning we drove out of the state park to few words.
There was not much to say.
The three month dream that was the summit of Devil’s Tower was not to be realized.”