The watchtower at Widow’s Peak was a decades-old cabin perched on stilts thirty feet up in the air. It took ninety steps to reach the trapdoor in the catwalk floor from the ground, her calves burning all the way. If that wasn’t enough, reaching the place at all took a ten-hour drive up the fire roads from Big Bear Lake, followed by a brutal hike in by pack trail. Her piece of the park for the summer came with a big dose of welcome peace and quiet, plus million-dollar views. Hannah got up each morning to a panoramic, ringside seat looking out over mountains and forests, and a hundred-plus miles of pure visibility.
Unfortunately, running water was limited.
Her bathing choices were stream, pond, or go dirty. The pond was already choking up with algae as the water levels dropped further with
