Lenore Wruck, a couple of decades Sabo’s senior, says, “I was a Sierra Club hike leader, and we used to lead hikes up here. That’s how I met Amir.”
“He and Lenore were working right here on this hillside when I first met them,” Sabo says. “They were hauling out the remains of a fire started by a barbecue.” She stares angrily. “If you go look at the big trees right down there” — she gestures — “they’ve got scars all over ’em.”
Then she softens. “I’ve been well-trained — I know the drill,” she says, chuckling as if she can hear Amir’s instructions. “How to trim, which plants can live around here, when to water . . . I used to live nearby, so I’d run up here the minute I’d get out of work, five days a week. I spent a summer up here putting in stairs with Amir.
“The last couple of years, he did not feel well. Things didn’t get taken care of. There are trails that need to be built, stairs that need repairs from all the soil erosion. But it’s getting put back together. It’s hard work, and I love it, but we certainly could use some regular volunteers . . .”
Quietly, Wruck says, “Kris can’t do this alone, forever.” Occasionally, volunteers do contact Sabo (ksabo@WildWildWest.org) and help out.
“Right now,” Sabo says, “I’m up here for eight or nine hours, two to three days a week. Sundays I try to be here all day.”
That’s a huge commitment, I say.
“Well,” Sabo says, a catch in her voice, “it’s all I can do for Amir now, isn’t it?”