Brian Lay can see all of Oak Harbor from his window.

As the operator of a 123-foot crane on the city’s waterfront, his office is by far the tallest in town.

North, cars zip along the spine of the city on State Highway 20. The Seaplane Base hunches on Maylor Point to the east. Just south, clouds saunter across the harbor.

Yeah, the view is nice, but most of the time his eyes are trained below on the estimated $100-million sewage treatment plant rising from the dirt.

“You have to pay attention,” he said. “You have to be on the top of your game everyday and be professional.

“It’s a demanding job.”

IN LATE May, truckers hauled in the crane in pieces and workers used a smaller crane to put it together. It’s now a part of Oak Harbor’s waterfront until the plant is finished in two years.

The sunflower-yellow hammerhead crane is the largest piece of equipment to visit Oak Harbor, said City Engineer Joe Stowell. Its presence has generated considerable interest. People regularly stand on the edge of the job site and watch the behemoth lifting tons of rebar, plywood, dirt, gravel and concrete.

Lay, 35, grew up in Darrington. He lives in Marysville with his wife and three children. He’s employed by Garner Construction, a Seattle-based company specializing in providing skilled crane operators and equipment. His company is a subcontractor for Hoffman Construction, which manages the sewage treatment project for the city.

THERE AREN’T too many people who do what Lay does. He competed with dozens of other workers in his union for his position.

Lay started out as a welder assembling cranes and later dismantling them. Eventually, he was climbing into the cab to make sure it worked properly. He decided he’d rather be operating the crane, and he said he was fortunate to find two other operators who mentored him.

For nearly a decade he’s worked as an operator, mostly on projects in downtown Seattle and Bellevue.

This project in Oak Harbor is a treat, especially for a guy who grew up in a small town.

“This is like home,” he said. “It’s peaceful. There’s no traffic. People are friendlier.”

It’s a far more quiet and calm work environment than Seattle. He described this job as a “stress reliever.”

“You can look at the ocean and the mountains,” he said.

THOUGH THE sewage treatment plant work site is constrained on three sides by roads and buildings, Lay doesn’t have to worry about high-rises or power lines.

That doesn’t mean he isn’t vigilant. This is dangerous work — not just for Lay but for the workers beneath him who depend on him daily. He describes the danger like this: if he accidentally shuts a door on someone’s foot, that’s an “ow.” If he loses control of a couple-of-ton load, it’s a far more serious result.

“That’s my biggest concern,” he said. “Making sure the guys working down there get home safely to their families at night.”

He’s cognizant that the longer arm of his crane — called the jib — sometimes stretches over the ballfields at Windjammer Park. Any load he hoists is never over a public space.

“People count on you,” he said. “They’re trusting you to make the right moves. They’re trusting you with their lives.”

LAY’S WIFE prefers not to watch her husband in action. She wants a call or a text from him when he’s down safely. Last week, he forgot one evening.

“She reamed me when I got home,” he said.

His day starts early in the morning with a long climb up a metal ladder. His employer gives him 15 minutes to make the climb. It takes him six.

The cab of the crane is a closet-sized space. He sits in a chair and the entire front of the cab is transparent so he can see the job site below.

It gives the feeling of sitting on the edge of a cliff.

In that small space is a drawing by his daughter, 6, who also helps make his lunch. On a recent day that was an energy drink, sandwich and veggies.

There’s no toilet in the crane, and it’s too long of a journey for him to take more than one trip up daily. He’s trained his body, and, if necessary, has a work-around long-haul truckers would be familiar with.

WHEN LAY’S not moving heavy loads, he’s out on the long arm of the jib or the shorter counter jib checking to make sure the crane is operating correctly or doing routine maintenance such as adding grease. The counter jib is an open-air deck with a railing. To walk on the jib, Lay straps on a safety harness. It’s narrow and has no handrails and open gaps.

“If you slip, you’re falling,” he said.

The crane is designed to bend and move. When Lay is picking up a heavy load, the cab of the crane will bend forward like a rocking horse. If the wind moves so does the crane.

A lot of people think they aren’t afraid of heights, Lay said, until they climb up the crane. He isn’t but he does respect them.

“It starts moving around and they want to go back down,” he said.

OBSERVANT CRANE watchers may have noticed the crane moving with the wind. When Lay isn’t working, he releases the brake and the crane “weather vanes.” That’s what it is designed to do, and it allows it to safely ride out squalls. In effect, in off hours the city has its own giant weather vane — the long arm points downwind.

A few times the crane operator noticed what looks like entire daycare groups of small children standing below and waving. Kids — and adults — he wants you to know something: He sees you.

Bring your binoculars if you want to see his response.

“My hand will be out the window waving back,” he said.