About a dozen miles northeast of Sunland, crouched in a narrow rock gorge in Angeles National Forrest, lies Big Tujunga Dam #1.

Braced against two massive canyon walls, the arching 208-foot-tall dam holds back a serpentine lake of flood water ... protecting residents downstream and doing its part to conserve our precious water supply.

Bill Gilbert tends the Big Tujunga Dam lovingly, but with respect. He's been doing it for 25 years and says he couldn't ask for a better job.

"I'd do it for free, if they'd give me the house," he admits.

Big Tujunga Dam #1 is so named because the original plan called for three more dams down stream. These were never built. In 1924, a bond was issued for #1, and plans were drawn. Construction began in February 1930 and was completed in July 1931, at a cost of just over $1million.

The seismic rehabilitation currently planned for the 77-year old dam will begin later this spring and last three years. It will cost $88 million.

"Everything will be automated and state-of-the-art when they're done," claims Bill. "I may be the last operator to work here."

Big Tujunga Dam is 505 feet wide at the crest and 73 feet thick at the base. The new construction will double its thickness and enclose the elevator.

Sitting in the warm control house atop the right side abutment, I talked with Bill and later with his wife, Debbie. Rain-splattered windows allowed a view of the lake on one side, and the spillway and gushing streams of water from huge valves on the other.

A series of sepia photos along one wall documented the dam's construction. Outside, the wind howled like a pack of wolves.

"This is nothing. You should hear it when it really blows!" said the burly 52-year-old dam operator, looking more like a Wyoming lawman in his long coat, cowboy hat, and bushy salt-and-pepper mustache.

Born and raised in Sunland, Bill frequently fished in Hansen Dam and the Tujunga Wash as a boy, catching trout, crawdads and frogs. Right after high school, he took a summer job with the Forestry Service/Fish & Game.

He worked on a maintenance crew for two years, then took and passed the Civil Service exam. Having a choice of five dams, he chose Cogswell first and worked at the San Gabriel Canyon facility for several years.

Then he worked a stint at the Sawpit Dam before coming to Big Tujunga.

Bill loves the solitary life a dam tender leads, "It's just me, my wife and my dog. I haven't had a neighbor that I could see for 33 years!" he says with satisfaction.

He sees a lot of wildlife, though, like bears and recently a pair a large mountain lions. He trout-fishes and hunts for deer in season

He also reports accidents, emergencies, vandalism and trespassing (and occasionally dodges bullets from partying hot-shots). A month ago, he and his assistant found a suicide victim below the bridge ... not normally part of a dam operator's job.

The day I was there, he was making the rounds every two hours; checking precipitation, rain density, wind velocity and water surface height. I watched as he peered through binoculars at a series of marked water-boards placed at intervals up one bank of the lake near the control house.

"Water's at 2,214 feet above sea level; just where it needs to be," he said. Later he would log the figures on a chart and send them to his supervisor via the Internet.

At the storm system's peak a week before, he was sending hourly reports. "During a really bad storm in 1984, I was making reports every 15 minutes through the night. I had two alarm clocks, and would try to get a 10-minute nap between reports. It didn't work."

Bill's wife - who holds down a day job in Montrose - says she helps her husband when she can, calling him up during the night hours, making sure he's awake to make the reports. "I take care of him totally," she says with a grin. He nods. "We've been together 10 years. She's the best thing that's happened to me."

Debbie took me out on the catwalk for an amazing view of the spillway while Bill filed his report; then we walked across the crest of the dam to the elevator.

After a 160-foot ride down the face, we stepped out onto a open platform. Mist from two mighty streams of water shooting 50 feet into the canyon enveloped us. Ducking under the massive (but inoperative) 72-inch valve we approached the roaring, 42-inch horizontal jet of white water. The very air seemed to vibrate with its energy. "This is what makes the job!" shouted Bill.

Far below in the swirling mist, along both canyon sides, narrow paths with bright yellow railings lead to a series of small dripping pipes.

"That's where I check for leakage," he says.

My eyes open wide.

"All dams leak," he adds.

I glance up at the massive dam face beside me and get a touch of vertigo. It's as high as an 18-story building! I try not to think of the water pressing against the other side.

Back topside, we climbed into his truck and traversed the top of the dam and spillway. I sucked in my breath as Bill drove casually across the narrow crest with hardly six inches of clearance on either side.

On the left bank, we drove down a steep, muddy road to the canyon floor for a magnificent view of the dam, the gushing water and the churning pool below. I believed him when he said it was a "mini Hoover Dam."

A quick drive down the canyon and across a culvert for a glimpse of where Hansen's Lodge used to be in the late 1800s (stagecoaches would bring up guests from Los Angeles for hunting parties or even weddings), then up the other side.

On the way, Debbie talked of her Chumash heritage, (she's quarter Native American) and the leather crafts she makes from deer hides. I noted her Web site: www.redtaildesign.net.

As we reached the parking lot next to the control house a sunbeam shone through the dark clouds and bathed the Big Tujunga Dam in golden light. There she sat, a proud old lady, efficiently doing her job while awaiting a face lift.

Story originally printed in the Foothills Paper, February 22, 2008 (Here by permission)