It was 1979. I am 20 years old and I got a job with a local farmer / rancher in the north western part of California where I grew up. This job had me in the hills mostly, driving tractors or repairing fence. My employer was a well established guy who dry farmed several thousand acres of grain and also had a few thousand sheep. It was during mid winter that we would till the steeper hill ground after the sheep had grazed it all summer and fall. Even though it was the rainy season, the steep hill ground, which was also kind of gravely would drain very well and allow the equipment to work without many issues due to mud. With a lot of acres to work, there were times when the tractors would go 24 hours a day and never stop for several weeks at a time. During February of 1980 my boss asked me to spend a couple of weeks or so operating one of these tractors at a ranch that was secluded in a hilly region about 20 miles from the main operation and fairly isolated. He wanted me to work nights pulling a disc behind one of the HD 15’s. The HD’s were a large and very powerful machine that ran on steel tracks. Because of the side hill conditions it was widely known that you do not use tractors with tires in steep terrain due to the dangers of rolling over. I was told that for taking the night shift I would make an additional 25 cents / hour. I believe with that increase I was at $2.75 / hour. My shift started at 6 pm and finished at 9 am. My relief worker started at 6 am but had other chores prior to taking over the tractor operation during the day. I remember the discipline it took for me to last the 15 hours each night for those two weeks. These tractors were open without any cab, they were very loud and it was extremely cold. By the time I had all the layers of clothing on that I used in an attempt to not freeze completely, I could hardly move freely enough to operate the levers which controlled the hydraulics for the implement and the steering. Even with ear plugs and several layers of head wear, it was easy to doze off regardless of the loudness. The steep and ever changing terrain made it vital to stay as alert as possible so I didn’t drive off into a drainage ravine. As I reflect on that experience, I recall something that brought me a much deeper sense of realization than did all of the exterior elements of struggle.
Solitude. I can clearly remember those emotions of loneliness that surrounded me in the middle of those isolated hills during the depths of those very long and cold nights. It may seem hard to believe, but even though I was on a screaming and lit up machine, I felt stranded and alone. The different types of struggles would compete within my mind as to which was harder for me to deal with; the physical conditions of cold and fatigue or the mental and emotional aspects of loneliness. I would have my moments of questioning why I was doing this. Was the extra 25 cents an hour really worth it? More than once I came very close to calling it quits but for some reason I would talk myself out of it. Maybe it was the money; I was 20 years old and broke. Maybe it was the male ego; again, I was 20 years old and had my share of that. Regardless of the actual reasons why I continued on with that job night after night, there was one ingredient that I can still vividly remember that was absolutely instrumental in keeping my mind from playing too many tricks on me. When tilling hill ground you start at the bottoms and basically go around the base of the hills while gradually working your way up the slopes with each round you make. This way the tractor is not struggling to climb one side and then coast (or slide) down the other. So essentially you are nearly always going side hill and leaning so to speak. There were many occasions in which the hill was so steep that I would turn myself sideways in the seat so I could put my foot on the lower side of the seat to act as a support to help keep me upright in the seat. With this type of progress you eventually found your way toward the higher portions of the terrain. It was when I would get to a point high enough on a hill side that I could see the lights far off in the distance.
There was an interstate highway down in the valley that was (and is) a major trucking route. The traffic on that highway was at least 10 miles from my hill sides which made those semi’s look like little tiny lights slowly moving along. I can clearly remember the relief I felt when those lights came in to my view. All at once I did not feel so alone. Nothing in my immediate physical environment changed, yet somehow the sight of those distant lights kept me company.
The emotional benefit I felt from that energy of life and movement way down in the valley had a stabilizing effect on my mental condition. I spent many long and cold hours in that lonely and somewhat secluded hill region looking forward to the next round that would bring me back to the place where the lights were visible. Sometimes it may have taken a half hour to come back around, but as long as I knew they would be there I had a comfort to look forward to.
As a very young man I learned that what we feel and believe on the inside is by far more powerful than what our fears can convince us to believe on the outside.
"Listen" 