Recently, my college roommate and long-time friend, Rick Smith, phoned to propose an idea. Smith is a reader of our Blog and aware of our recent post advising a “break” while I concentrate on achieving remission or cure from my Apr21 diagnosis of Hodgkin Lymphoma. Smith proposed we invite a “Guest Author” to write a Blog post, perhaps one author a month, for the next few months so that readers don’t fall off due to the lack of posts. We wholeheartedly agreed.
Attached is Rick’s Guest Author post. Rick is a retired thirty-one year employee of the U.S. National Park Service. His career was exemplary, including being a Park Ranger, Assistant Superintendent, and Superintendent in a number of Parks and Regions. Rick reminds readers that, as they begin to emerge after perhaps a year-long lockdown due to Covid-19, should they be considering going to one or more national parks, they be aware: 1) dogs (should they have them with them) are not allowed on any national park trail and must be cared for, and 2) the parks and employees are still limited by Covid-19. You will need a reservation at most parks to get in. Rick reminds all that the great outdoors is a wonderful place to heal and national parks fit that bill to a tee!
It’s an honor to write a guest blog for my old college roommate, Wally Heaton, or, as most of you know him, Forrest, and his lovely wife, Mary. They always begin their blog with a poem so I will also.
I’m not a poet
And I know it.
Instead, I will begin with a famous quote from Stephen T. Mather, the first Director of the US National Park Service in 1916:: "If a trail is to be blazed, send a ranger; if an animal is floundering in the snow, send a ranger; if a bear is in a hotel, send a ranger; if a fire threatens a forest, send a ranger; and if someone needs to be helped, send a ranger.”
I spent 6 years of my 31 years as an employee of the National Park Service (NPS) in Yosemite. Since few of you have ever had the opportunity, I thought I’d try to give you a feel of what it’s like to be an NPS ranger. I spent the first couple of my years between Badger Pass, Yosemite’s ski area, and Tuolumne Meadows, Yosemite’s high-country camping and climbing area. I can’t imagine a better assignment. At Badger, I managed a 5-person professional ski patrol plus whatever volunteer National ski patrol showed up. Badger is a small area, perfect for families who wanted their kids to learn to ski. As EMTs, we dealt with injuries both minor and gruesome. The latter we stabilized and sent them to the hospital in Yosemite Valley. Since I was responsible for lift safety, I had to ski a bit every day. I will always be thankful for the American taxpayers who gave me the opportunity to ski 140 days a year.
During the summer, it was off to the high country. Tuolumne had a huge campground, 500 same sites. With that many ice chests, it was a perfect place for Yosemite’s black bear population. I estimate that I spent at least 3 nights of every week darting or trapping bears. We would haul them off to some isolated spot in the park. I swear some of them made it back before we could drive back.
Alas, all good things come to an end and in my final year, I was assigned to be the night shift supervisor in Yosemite Valley. Every night at 5:00 pm, my crew spread out over the Valley to keep the peace. Part of the crew was assigned to campgrounds where disputes often arose between those who wanted to hike a 6 am the next morning and those who wanted to party all night. And then there were the bears. Let me tell you one story of Rick and the bears.
We had been on the lookout for this particular bear as it often broke into cars to get to the food inside. One night, my patrol person radioed in, “He’s here in Lower Pines Campground. Since we had been after this bear for some time,I already had a dart preloaded with the proper amount of the drug. When I got to the site, my heart sank. There was no moon, and it was darker than the inside of a cow. But it was too good a chance to pass up. I asked two people to shine their flashlight on the bear. Since this bear had been a bit aggressive, I wanted something between the bear and me. Luckily, there was a motorcycle at the site. I set up behind that and fired. I saw the dart hit the bear. As always, the bear ran away. They usually drop within a minute. Not this one. He kept running, never to be seen again. I was mystified.
I finished my shift at 2 am, and while asleep, my phone rang. It was the Chief Ranger’s secretary. She said, “Can you come to the office right away?”
I pleaded, “Edna, can’t this wait? I only got to bed a few hours ago.”
She said no, “Jack wants to see you right now,”
When I arrived at the office, the Chief asked me, “Did you shoot out someone’s windshield last night?”
I replied that no I hadn’t. One of the guys in the office held up one of those clear plastic windshields that you often see on motorcycles. There was a round hole in it. In the dark, I didn’t see it. Now I knew why the bear didn’t go to sleep. There were dribbles of the dried up drug on the windshield. The way the dart work is that as soon as it hits something solid, a plunger pumps the drug out. The windshield had served that purpose.
I offered to buy him a new one. He replied, “Are you kidding, man? When I get back to to the Bay area, this windshield is going to be famous. It posed as a bear.”
After the summer, I accepted a promotion to the Albright Training Center where Forrest and his family visited me. But, I will never forget Yosemite. It is truly one of the jewels of our National Park System.
Smith & Heaton running the Yampa, a wild, westward flowing river, flowing through Dinosaur National Monument Colorado to the Green, May 1997.