THE LAST WORD: RICK SMITH
Richard "Rick" Smith is a renaissance environmentalist who bestrides both the national and international park scene.
This is not my conclusion and certainly not Rick's, but rather that of the folks who have worked with him over the years in many parks on two continents.
Rick himself is painfully modest in the "Aw shucks, Twarn't Nothin'" mode that bedevils interviewers. As Rick is overly humble, I had to extract most background from his patient brother Bill as well as his numerous friends and associates in this country and abroad.
Here is basically what happened, according to Brother Bill and others.
Rick's NPS career path is somewhat unique. After graduation from Albion College, Rick taught middle school English in Grand Rapids, Michigan for six years while working as a seasonal ranger at Yellowstone National Park in the summers. He then went to Michigan State to earn a Masters in English and worked as a teaching assistant -- all the while working at the great job of seasonal protective ranger in Yellowstone. He came to a fork in the career road. No, he didn't go permanent with the NPS. He did a totally unexpected thing -- He joined the Peace Corps and took their immersion course in Spanish, and taught English at the National University in Paraguay. When he returned from Paraguay, that fork was still in the road, and this time decided to go permanent with the NPS, albeit now with an understanding of Spanish culture and language.
His natural bent was toward law enforcement, search and rescue, and emergency services, that three pronged trident of the successful ranger. Rick proved to be a natural, and soon caught the eye of top level management who made opportunities available. He was assigned to guard Presidents Nixon and Carter when they made park visits. He became expert in mountaineering, SCUBA, firearms, and wilderness medicine. He was called upon to guide difficult rescues in hazardous terrain. One of many such rescues was written up in READERS DIGEST.
One of his most daunting tasks was to coordinate the 21 pioneer rangers who were to administer the vast new Alaskan National Parks. Not only were the natural hazards such as bears and climate threatening -- but so were at least some Alaskans who took violent exception to NPS presence in "their" turf!
Rick would agree (or at least he'd better!) that his most productive assignment was a WASO job where he met his wife to be, Kathy Short.
Rick's remarkable leadership abilities lead to the Assistant Superintendcy at Everglades National Park, Superintendency at Carlsbad and Guadeloupe National Parks, Associate Regional Director of Operations, Mid Atlantic Region, Associate Regional Director of Natural and Cultural Resources, Southwest Region. Upon retirement, he received the Department of Interior's Meritorious Service Award.
Now neighbors, "retirement" is usually the end of at least that line of work, but Rick was such a hot potato handler that he was asked back to become Acting Superintendent of Yellowstone -- a fitting cap to anyone's career.
Rick was not done by a long chalk. He helped found the Association of National Park Rangers and went on to help found the Coalition of Retired National Park Service Employees, an increasingly powerful voice for the Environment.
But what of that Spanish language ability and Peace Corps experience? Well, Rick has put it to good use in what amounts to his own "Peace Corps", the training of park rangers in Latin America. He has most recently returned from teaching a ranger course in the Dominican Republic.
Bill Wade recalls Rick Smith's blunt preference for environmental preservation over economic development in the parks. Rick once told Wade "I would rather be sued by Dow Chemical than by the Sierra Club" It's ironic now that the DOI has the opposite view, they'd rather be sued by the Wilderness Society than by some recreational vehicle entity, according to Bill.
Juan Carlos Gumbarotta, Vice President of the International Ranger Federation said of Rick:
I can just say that Rick is a very special person for all the Latin American rangers who had the pleasure to meet him...Rick in some ways is one of us, he feels happy and at home when surrounded by his Latin American colleagues....I believe that if all the Latin American governments would follow Rick's recommendations, the region would have an extremely strong protected area system with the most committed rangers.
On Rick's most recent assignment in the Dominican Republic, Bill Kaschak , manager of an AID program in that country, remarked of Rick:
Over the past four years , Rick has helped us here in the DR develop a training program for Park Rangers. Rick's course was built around the theme of "The Modern Park Ranger" -- a steward for his environment who is service oriented, people friendly and proud of his responsibility. Rick took into account the bio-physical variables of the Dominican Republic, and the essential technical skills required, but also the unique characteristics of Dominican Park Rangers -- most are illiterate, with little organized training in park management.
The impact of the course Rick designed and taught with Dominican and International consultant colleagues are very evident. The Dominican National Park Service is moving ahead and Rick Smith has been an integral part of that process."
Well now, neighbors, now that you know a little about Rick's background, let's put him on the griddle and ask him some blunt questions:
|
VILLAIN SPOTTING
As things play out, one of the many deficiencies of Gale Norton as Secretary of the Interior is defective villain spotting.
Now it is true that the average villain does not look much like a villain or indeed act like a villain, at least initially.
Most of the great villains of recent history did not look the part.
Adolph Hitler bore a striking physical resemblance to the silent film comedian Charlie Chaplin, right down to the ridiculous moustache and the funny walk Even when throwing a temper tantrum on old newsreel footage, you sort of half expected Hitler to break into a song and dance routine. Dangerous? You've got to be kidding!
Avuncular, pipe smoking Joseph Stalin, with his friendly smile and Walter Bremelow moustache, looked like a kindly train conductor, the type that would overlook the fact that a single mother didn't have a train ticket.
Smiling Mao Tse Dong ("Mo" to his friends at the Rotary Club) looked like the hard working, successful owner of a chain of Chinese carry out joints in Northern New Jersey. Still wore the same old blue work suit he started out in. His kids all have scholarships to Radcliffe or Harvard. Great example of immigrant drive and perseverance.
Wispy, paper-thin Ho Chi Mihn, with his straggling beard would be Central Castings version of a Confucian scholar; the type that had not ventured beyond his study and garden for a half century or more. Warrior chieftain? Surely you jest!
There are exceptions to the rule of course. Some villains DO look the part!
If you needed to portray a crazed, bigoted religious fanatic, complete with mysterious, exotic costume, purple lips, and beady eyes then Osama Bin Ladin is your man. No one can play a Middle Eastern villain more convincingly than Osama!
If you need someone to portray a sneering, avaricious, grasping, cutthroat businessman turned politician, then few can play the part better than Vice President Dick Cheney.
Then there was Jack Abramoff. His black hat and ankle length black coat should have tipped off our gal Gale. How should Secretary Norton have known about the black hat and coat? Pretty simple, buckaroos! The Department of the Interior is the only Department that deals in Cowboys and Indians. Every kid of a certain age knows that the bad guys wear black hats Gale Norton is a kid of a certain age and should know this!
Carrying myself back to the happy days of yesteryear in the Dakota theatre back in South Dakota at the Saturday matinee, I recall my friends and I, togged out in our cowboy outfits and cap pistols (This was long before there were any doubts concerning the Second Amendment), watching the latest Lone Ranger & Tonto episode. (This was also long, long before "Brokeback Mountain" and thus there were no questions about the relationship between the Lone Ranger and Tonto.)
The movie scene was the Colonel's office at a fort in "Indian Country" The Colonel, the Lone Ranger, and Tonto are in a meeting to discuss the possibility of Indian wars (bad) and the "civilizing" of the Indians (good). The door opens, and a Jack Abramoff look-alike, sporting a black hat and floor length black linen duster, slithers into the office.
Even without the ominous music, we kids realize that the villain has arrived. We shout warnings to the screen and blaze away with our cap pistols.
The Abramoff character smiles slyly and says that he has a "plan" for the Indians that will satisfy everyone and make everyone happy. He proceeds to outline this plan.
The normally impassive Tonto listens with growing concern. He turns to the Lone Ranger and whispers "Kimosabe! White man speak with forked tongue! Him no friend of Indian!"
"I REALIZE THAT!" The Lone Ranger stage whispers back, angrily. (He had looked up "Kimosabe" in an English-Apache dictionary and found it to mean "Slow on the uptake") "The question is 'How do we convince the Colonel?'
Now the Colonel is pretty much already convinced -- by the Abramoff character. The Colonel says ecstatically "This man knows all the powerful people in Washington and he has lots of money! Therefore, I trust him implicitly!" (The Colonel graduated last in his class at West Point, and, since this is the corrupt Grant Administration, he is awaiting a second career as a political appointee in the Department of Interior)
The Colonel is beyond deconvincing, and all us kids know what is going to happen when the Colonel takes his entire command down through Skull Canyon. There is nothing we can do about it.
So why didn't Gale Norton smell a rat when Jack Abramoff oozed onto the scene, wearing full Bad Guy costume?
Well, I don't know. It is true that Our Gal Gale is a girl kid. Girl kids didn't go to cowboys movies (unless Dale Evans co-starred) Therefore, they missed out on Villain Spotting 101, which was as valuable as Pre School is today. So it is entirely possible that Secretary Norton is dumb as a fence post when it comes to villain spotting.
On the other hand, (and this is where it gets complicated and we start to lose people) there may be another, more sinister answer.
The Secretary may be poor at spotting environmental villains because, well, she is one.
Yup! It happens!
In fact, every so often the writers who churned out those D minus horse operas would throw us kids a curve with a little moral ambiguity; they would come up with a villain that didn't look the part... The crypto-villain wore a white hat just like the good guys. He didn't have a suspicious black mustache; he was friendly and helpful, even pulling Silver or Tonto out of quicksand on occasion. They were often pillars of the community; the mayor or the doctor, or more usually, the town banker (Most of these Hollywood scriptwriters were closet Marxists who were still ticked off at Senator Joe McCarthy, so the banker was a natural villain)
These complicated cowboy movies were never very popular. You kind of had to think... Kids don't like moral ambiguities; they like things simple. Black & White.
Unlike Jack Abramoff, Gale Norton does not look like a villain. She looks like a corporate lawyer, but I repeat myself.
CULTURE WARS AND TIN EARS
My Liberal Democrat friends occasionally ask me how come they always win cocktail party arguments but never win real elections.
The short answer is that the electorate perceives liberal Democrats to be traitors.
Now Democrats with short fuses should note that I did not say that Democrats ARE traitors, I said that they were PERCEIVED as traitors.
Liberal Democrats are not traitors, but perception is everything in politics.
At this stage of the game Greedhead Republicans are perceived as much better at flag waving than Liberal Democrats, which in wartime is rather important skill.
Despite the fact that the president and vice president are skilled and accomplished draft dodgers, the average voter would rather serve on a SWIFT boat commanded by Dick Cheney rather than one skippered by John Kerry; so successful has been the Perception campaign waged by Karl Rove and other Princes of Darkness.
Is this good for the country or even good for the Republican Party.? Probably not. The Republican TV commentator Tucker Carlson (He's the smiling young guy with the bow tie) remarked "it's like shooting fish in a barrel! We Republicans win even when we shouldn't: This is not good for democracy."
So, if Greedhead Republicans are frequently wrong, then why do Democrats keep on losing?
Mainly because Democrats keep on doing what they are very good at doing; which is shooting themselves in the foot.
This is not surprising. What is surprising is the alacrity at which they reload and keep on shooting! Like the Bourbon kings, Liberals never forget anything and never learn anything...
One fact liberal Democrats never seem to learn is that the U.S. is a fairly socially conservative nation with a strong patriotic streak and a first name relationship with the Deity (Thank you, Jesus!)
Is this fact important? Only if you are trying to win elections.
One certainly should propose environmental protection, adequate health care for all, complete energy independence for North America, and so on. But it is counterproductive to pick a fight on gun control, abortion, same sex marriage, the death penalty, or whether God was on Jerusalem daylight Savings Time when He created the Universe, or the rest of the hot button items that Liberal Democrats perversely persist in pushing.
One example that left me totally dumbstartled and gob smacked was the debate over the Homosexual Easter Egg Roll at the White House.
Say again? No, you heard right! It seems that some gay gentlepeople are trying to badger the National Park Service into providing more visible homosexual participation at the annual Easter Egg Hunt on the White House lawn!
Now neighbors, since it's a political as well as a cultural event, the annual Children's Easter Egg hunt has been heavily integrated and quotafied for decades.
Indeed, if you are an Aleut, Chamorro, or Apache family touring Washington during Easter Season, the Park Service will probably dragoon your children into the Easter Egg Hunt to make sure every demographic base is covered.
However, sexual orientation (aside from the usual one of boys & girls) seems to be one niche not filled, according to the gay spokesperson being interviewed by the admittedly biased Tucker Carlson.
Carlson incredulously pointed out that the Egg hunt was an event for prepubescent children.
The Gay spokesperson allowed as how this was the case, but while the children may not be homosexual, some of their parents definitely were and wanted to wear tee shirts proclaiming that fact.
Carlson correctly pointed out that that would be a political statement; something out of line with a children's event and he for one would object to National Rifle Association members outfitting their egg hunting tykes with tee shirts that read GOD, GUNS & GUTS ARE WHAT MADE AMERICA GREAT!
The Gay spokesperson would have none of this argument of course, and insisted that the NPS would have to showcase the homosexual parents at the Easter Egg hunt or the First Amendment would come undone.
Naturally, a conservative provocateur like Carlson cherry picks these characters for their off the wall outrageousness (The next person to be interviewed by Carlson was a gent whose book "Rogue Nation" had been favorably reviewed by that famous literary critic Osama Bin Laden.)
Unfortunately, there seems to be an unending supply of such people able and willing to supply bucket and brush to enable Carlson to paint all populists as anti-American perverts
This is aided and abetted by the condescending and contemptuous attitude of liberal media and intelligentsia toward what is patronizingly called the "working class" or "The Lower Middle Class". These are folks that tend to favor beer, country-western music, football, God, huntin, ' 'n fishin', stock car racin' and of course, guns In addition to being the "Working Class", these folks are also the "Warrior Class" due to the absence of the Draft.
This sub group of the electorate are savagely stereotyped, parodied, and patronized by Hollywood movies and television dramas. This is unfortunate if you are a liberal and would like them to vote for you. Folks generally won't vote for those who sneer and laugh at them.
Recently, an academic con man by the name of George Lakoff proposed a solution. It seemed that the Liberals were not "framing" the debate correctly. Professor Lakoff would (for a price) set up a series of logical and semantic hoops for the red neck sheep to jump through, leading them inexoribly to vote Democrat in the next election.
Aside from arrogance on the part of Lakoff, this precludes a certain level of stupidity and naiveté on the part of the electorate that does not exist. The alleged "working class" (also referred to by the contemptuous nickname of "Joe Sixpak") is actually quite bright. Many of them would score quite high on what might be called the "West Virginia S.A.T., which consists of putting together a serviceable automobile from junk yard parts, dressing out a deer, and staying alive and productive in a 28 inch coal seam; tests that many an Ivy League professor would fail miserably. It is simply a different kind of experience and intelligence; different, but also valuable.
So what accounts for the tin ear of Liberal Democrats toward people of different experience and capabilities?
Well, we must not rule out bigotry and stupidity. Recently, The President of Harvard was forced out of his position, due to his stubborn insistence that women were "wired differently than men" and thus no good at math and science; a point of view that would not be tolerated in the military (and finally was no longer tolerated at Harvard)
Most of all, however, it is a sort of lazy shyness. Most of us (myself included) do not want to mosey out of our Comfort Zones to associate with someone other than our own pack for fear of "being uncomfortable" or "misunderstood". We thus tend to rely on stereotypes, which is the main problem Liberal Democrats have in approaching the electorate.
But don't Greedhead Republicans also have a tin ear for the sensibilities of the electorate?
No. Not until very recently. The Administration possessed an uncanny semantic WD-40 that would lubricate George Bush & CO through any disaster. They knew exactly what to say, what buttons to press, what flags to wave, and how to stroke and stoke the patriotism of the average American
However, recently they developed a sudden, inexplicable tin ear on the subject of selling our seaports to a pack of Arab Sheiks! This was further compounded by the President's threat of a veto if his desires were thwarted. This led this registered Republican to wonder not only if Bush had developed a tin ear, but whether he had lost most of his marbles as well!
Would it be possible for Liberal Democrats to lose their tin ear? There seems to be some indications. They have discovered the Military and Patriotism! Out of 12 veterans running for Congress, 11 of them will be running on the Democratic ticket! This is interesting.
One of the most colorful candidates is the heroic Major Tammy Duckworth who lost both legs and partial use of an arm when an RPG exploded in her lap while she was flying a helicopter in Iraq with the Illinois National Guard.
She will be standing for the Congressional seat of retiring Illinois Republican Congressman Henry Hyde in a decidedly conservative district. Can she pull it off? Well, there will be the patriotic, sympathy vote, as well as those concerned with minority issues (Duckworth is racially half Thai), so, with a strong populist flourish on jobs and medical care, plus a dollop of environmentalism, the Major might be able to pull it off.
The National Park Connection? Well, neighbors, Major Duckworth's day job is that of supervisor for Rotary International, the lodestone of every NPS superintendent! We'll see if we can get her opinions on the environment and national parks in the next issue of THUNDERBEAR.
THE SAFETY MESSAGE
At last you have found it! The Safety Message! The sole reason you have accessed THUNDERBEAR on a government computer! You accessed this web site ONLY to obtain information for the Park Safety Meeting and for no other purpose! Remember that! It may be a career saver should the NPS computer police question you. If you downloaded THUNDERBEAR and printed it out, explain that you were unable to set the printer to print out just the Safety Message, but, Mercy, No! you didn't read the other trash and immediately stuffed the non-safety pages into the office shredder!
That disclaimer out of the way, we can now get to this issue's safety topic, the Annual Safety Report from the Chief Safety Officer of the United States, The Honorable George W. Bush (In addition to Commander in Chief, the President is also the Chief Safety Officer of the Nation.)
In this role, the Constitution mandates that the President provide Congress with an annual report on the safety of the nation.
Until the advent of that grandstanding busy body, Woodrow Wilson, the Annual Safety Report, or State of the Union, was simply written up and sent over to Congress by messenger. Wilson, a professor type who loved the sound of his own sonorities, insisted on reading the message to Congress, possibly in the belief they were illiterate.
Since Wilson, every President has read his State of the Union Address to Congress. Some Presidents were better at it than others. Bush is at a disadvantage, as an encounter between George Bush and the English language always resembles those "grudge fights" on TV wrestling; with English winning, but just barely.
With the advent of television, there is the temptation to add a little razzmatazz in the form of cameo guest stars and it is a temptation that has not been resisted. This year, we had Rex the Wonder Dog.
But what of Safety? We are getting to that or rather the President is getting to that.
According to Bush, we are reasonably safe except for one thing. We have an addiction to Petroleum.
Is that bad? I mean, we Americans have an addiction to Pizza but it doesn't show up in the State of the Union Address.
Let's put it this way, if all the Pizza joints in the country were owned by the Mafia and the Mafia determined price and surprised other fast foods, then yup, our Pizza addiction might be source for concern and mention in the State of the Union Address.
Now neighbors, I spent the last years of my NPS career dealing with Oil People and their impacts on the National Parks and the rest of the Environment. Suffice to say, there was never a dull moment! I was never able to determine whether the Oil Business attracted crazy people or the Oil Business made them crazy; sort of a chicken or egg thing.
Most of the people who control the world's petroleum reserves are raving lunatics, religious fanatics, two fisted kleptomaniacs, angry nationalists, political zealots, or a combination of all of the above. The President is right to be concerned.
The Chef Lunatic of Iran, President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, has asserted that Israel must be erased and that God has shined His Ever Lovin' light on Mahmoud by causing a halo to appear over his head when he was addressing the UN (I am not making this up!) The world's largest oil reserves in Saudi Arabia are controlled by the small but obnoxious Wahabi sect who insists (heretically) that the sixth Pillar of Islam is unending holy war against the infidels... Iraq's oil wealth remains temporarily unstolen until a successor to its Chief Klepto, Saddam, can be found. Nigeria remains Africa's leading oil producer and source of ill-gotten boodle for its teeming, corrupt bureaucracy.
Vladimir Putin, owner of the largest non Muslin chunk of petroleum has been in a sulk since the Cold War turned out rather differently than Marx predicted. Another angry nationalist may be Cuantamoc Cardinas of Mexico, whose father, President Lazaro Cardinas nationalized the American oil companies Mexican holdings in the 1930's. C‡rdenas, the younger's, left wing PRD party has a good chance of winning the Mexican Presidency in 2006. Then there is the political zealotry of Hugo Chavez of Venezuela, our fourth largest supplier of oil, who likes Cuba and Fidel Castro very much and the US and George Bush not at all. In like manner, Bolivia, which contains some of the Western Hemisphere's largest reserves of natural gas, is now commanded by Evo Morales, an admirer of Che Guevara (who was killed in Bolivia by the CIA). President Morales wouldn't mind avenging Che.
Now neighbors, with that cast of characters, it is no wonder that Bush would like to get us the hell out of Dodge as quickly as possible, oil-wise.
But how?
Well, that's where in my humble opinion is where The Chief Safety Officer makes his mistakes.
He puts most of his eggs in the renewable biofuels basket.
That is, Bush would like to make most of our gasoline out of Switch Grass, corn cobs, banana peels, corn shucks, pencil sharpener shavings, or belly button lint -- the kind of organic stuff we're not exactly using right now
Is that wrong? Well now, that depends.
If you take a sharp stick labeled BIOFUELS and poke Scott Silver with it, Silver will snarl and lunge at you. Silver is presently head of one of those do gooder environmental groups, WILD WILDERNESS (www.wildwilderness.org) However, in another life, he was a biochemist who spent some time on biofuels and decided that the game was quite literally not worth the candle. That is, the energy you extracted from, say, kumquats, was not equal to the amount of energy required to extract it.
Now, Professor Silver grudgingly admitted that there might be some forlorn hope in biofuels derived from algae as described in issue #261 of THUNDERBEAR, but that is not the direction Bush seems to be heading. which is down a pork lined blind alley.
So what does THUNDERBEAR think Bush might have done to insure energy safety?
Well, for starters, George should have introduced Bill Ford, President of Ford Motor Company. (Bush is actually quite good at this sort of thing and really seems to enjoy it!)
"AH'D LIKE Y'ALL TA MEET A GOOD FRIEND A' MINE AN' AMERICA'S, BILL FORD, PRESIDENT OF FORD MOTORS. NOW BILL HERE, HAS COME UP WITH AN AUTOMOBILE THAT 'S AS REVOLTIONARY AS HIS GREAT GRAND DADDY'S MODEL T!
(Editors note: Is it just my imagination, or has the Presidents Texas twang gotten thicker since he came to Washington?)
Anyway, Bush goes on to describe the new Ford Reflex, which indeed could be as revolutionary as the Model T.
The Ford Reflex (odd name!) is a diesel/electric hybrid prototype that will allegedly get 65 miles to the gallon.
Now neighbors, the Ford Reflex, unlike most "economy" buckets, which usually advertise the fact the owner doesn't have a pot or a window to throw it out of, is actually a good looking, sporty car. It has a rakish body, reverse butterfly doors, neat seats and some cute gimmicks like solar panels that will power fans to cool the car while it is parked in the sun and to recharge the batteries.
It is unlikely the Reflex will actually get the theoretical 65 miles per gallon, as Toyota was forced to eat crow when Reality hit the fuel claims of its gasoline/electric Prius. But the Reflex will certainly get better mileage than say, the Ford Explorer.
Moreover, the operative word is "diesel". This is important. The Reflex is a diesel. This allows for some flexibility in fuel combinations that you don't have with an Otto (gasoline) engine. If you have a diesel engine and are eccentric, you can make your own fuel in your own backyard (probably better not tell the neighbors or the tax people). If you are more normal, you will be able to buy various combinations of petroleum diesel and biodiesel at the pump.
Your friendly National Park Service has achieved a modest but encouraging reduction in the use of fossil petroleum in its vehicle and vessel fleet but ONLY if the power source was diesel. This is true also of the U.S. military, which with the addition of the Kawasaki diesel motorcycle has ended its 85 year dependency on gasoline powered equipment.
Well yes, you say, that 65 mpg looks mighty good, even if theoretical, but we are still going to have to come up with that gallon! Will the President's biofuel ideas provide that gallon?
Eventually, maybe, but not anytime soon. More like when the Bush grandchildren are getting their drivers' licenses.
So, even if we are getting 65 mpg, do we still have to buy that gallon from Prince Abdul?
No we don't, neighbors, this is where the next cameo guest at THUNDERBEAR'S new, improved, State of the Union & Safety Address comes in!
The President gets that sly, frat rat smile that he always gets when he is about to say something mischievous, and continues:
"AH'D LAK TA INTRADUCE THE GOV'NER OF THE GREAT STATE OF MONTANA, BRIAN SCHWEITZER! (Puzzled applause) "HIT'S TRUE, BRIAN IS A DEMICRAT, BUT HE'S GOT SOME GOOD IDEAS FER OIL INDEPENDENCE RAT NOW! SEEMS THAT MONTANA IS SITTIN ON THE BIGGEST COAL DEPOSIT IN THE US! BRIAN TELLS ME THAT THIS COAL CAN BE LIQUIFIED INTO MORE PETROLEUM THAN THE OIL RESERVES OF SAUDI ARABIA AND IRAQ PUT TOGETHER! THIS WOULD KEEP US GOIN' FOR THE NEXT TWO CENTURIES (pause) MEBBE THREE CENTURIES IF WE ALL DRIVE FORD REFLEXES! (chuckle) AH'M GONNA PUT THE RESOURCES OF THE FEDERAL GOV'MINT BEHIND THIS PROJECT AS THIS THING IS SO IMPORTANT AH DON'T MIND SEEIN' A DEMICRAT REELECTED (laughter, applause)
President Bush and Governor Schweitzer would be correct. Coal liquefaction into petroleum products including diesel is a feasible process. The Fischer-Tropsch Process was discovered in 1923 and was used by rogue regimes such as Nazi Germany and Apartheid South Africa to become independent of imported petroleum.
There is nothing magic or mysterious about the Process. All that is required is coal and the guarantee that imported petroleum will never fall below $40 a barrel. (The Fischer-Tropsch Process is relatively expensive, costing $35 per barrel of finished product. In the old days, if anyone thought seriously about using the Fischer Tropsch process to achieve energy independence in the free market, Prince Abdul would open the oil valve until that "anyone" was bankrupted by $15 a barrel crude. Allah's Will, neighbors.
That was then, this is now. Even Saudi Arabia is pumping at near capacity. There is no way to play God with petroleum prices.
Petroleum is now hovering at $60 a barrel. Will it remain at that level or increase?
Is the Pope Catholic?
With a comfortable guaranteed profit margin, Montana and other coal producing states should be sitting in the catbird seat. Even West Virginia should be able to ease itself out of historic poverty.
What of the environment? Coal is a notoriously nasty energy source, but if you are going to mess with it, Fischer-Tropsch is one of the better ways to go. Unlike burning coal to make steam powered electricity, the chemical process does "harvest" the bad stuff like mercury and sulphur. You can even make a modest profit as you can put it in boxes and flasks and sell it to "Al's Nasty Chemical Company" or whoever needs the stuff.
In addition to oil and chemicals, the Process produces a lot of steam and resulting hot water. This is what the Sierra Club joyfully refers to as co-generation; yup, you get to generate electricity as a by-product. Then there is the value addition of surfing in Montana.
Surfing? Well yes. You may have noticed that there is very little surfing available in Eastern Montana in Janurary. We will be able to remedy that defect. There will be lots of warm water to be recalculated. This can be done through a vast water park, including a wave making pond under a geodesic dome. Citizens of Billings and Roundup will no longer have to journey to Hawaii to go surfing.
Are there any snakes in the Fischer-Tropsch Garden of Eden? Well, yes, (though governor Schwietzer understandably dances around them) the first is Carbon Dioxide, the number one Green House gas. The FT process produces LOTS of CO 2, a humongous, whomping amount of Carbon Dioxide. According to Governor Schweitzer, the CO2 can be "sequestered" by liquefying it and pumping it into abandoned oil wells.
Umm, will it really stay there, or will all of Montana's ground water look and act like sparkling mineral water? Another possibility would be a truly massive tree planting campaign to sequester the CO2 in lumber and furniture grade trees.
Then there is the lunar landscape effect of open pit mining. The Governor, a soils scientist, in previous life, points out that it doesn't have to be that way. The cost of re-doing Eastern Montana would have to be factored into the cost of fuel extraction.
Indeed, it would be theoretically possible to restore the Eastern Montana high plains to their pre-contact state as the entire infrastructure such as roads, ranches, fences, and even some towns would have been removed. Infrastructure that might have made sense in 1910 might not be necessary today.
Does Fischer-Tropsch really work outside the laboratory? Sure does, neighbors!
To this day, South Africa produces all its motor fuel from its own coal mines rather than importing it. Under the old Apartheid regime, it was designed to insure energy independence at any cost against a possible UN blockade. This never happened, but it turned out that economics caught up with the oil industry and energy independence makes economic sense in today's democratic South Africa.
Would energy independence for the US be safer (and morally better) than depending on a pack of unstable fanatics, psychotics and thieves?
Well, I don't know. That's your judgment call as a safety officer. If you believe that energy independence might be a safety factor, then you might like to share this with your elected representative.
HAWAII
In the Mid Atlantic US, you can sort of tell what are the prettiest months by the fact that they are favorite names for girl children (April, May, and June) Mid Atlantic girl children are never named July or August, as these months are hot and sultry, an image that you do not want to evoke in your teen aged daughters.
September, October, and at least the first half of November, are bracing, good to be alive months, with most of the bugs dead , the crowds gone, and the summer heated waters still warm enough to swim in. The only drawback being the shortness of the days. I have often wondered why people don't name girl children after these months; perhaps it is because of the ineffable sadness of autumn, despite the beauty.
Mid Atlantic December, January, February and March are definitely months to avoid if you possibly can. Very few people name children after these months. Unlike New England and Canada which has evolved a lifestyle of sports and activities to cope with winter, as there is generous snow and frozen ponds, the deadly half life of the Mid Atlantic winter provides only cold drizzling rain falling from sunless pewter gray skies for weeks on end, with intervals of black ice, sleet and the occasional quick melting blizzard which lasts only long enough to tie up traffic.
In short, it is not a winter that you can use.
My wife, who does not do leaden skies well, suggested that we seek a more useful climate in Hawaii.
She had been a Senior Fellow at the East-West Center at the University of Hawaii before I had met her and had many fond memories of the Islands. She suggested that we spend a winter in Hawaii to see how we liked it.
As opposed to a winter in DC? Sort of an easy call, neighbors. I agreed to the task.
Joan had snagged a "Visiting Colleague" position in the Second Language Studies Department of the University at its main campus in Honolulu on Oahu.
I had visited Hawaii several times years ago, and was wondering how much it had changed.
We had planned ahead and used frequent flier miles to score some inexpensive (relatively) tickets on a hopefully solvent airline.
Before going on to Honolulu, we would stop for a couple of weeks on the Big Island of Hawaii to visit some old friends. This provided a somewhat unlikely flight between Baltimore International Airport and Kona International Airport on the Big Island.
Because of the security checks required in the aftermath of 9/11, everyone flying has to arrive a couple of hours early. However, I have to arrive a bit earlier than you do, neighbors. as it seems that I am one of the security threats.
Yup, apparently due to the publication of THUNDERBEAR "Oldest Alternative Newsletter in the Federal Government," your kindly editor incurred the wrath of said federal government. (Your FBI has a limited sense of humor) and I have been on a "watch list." for a number of years.
So far, this has been only a mild inconvenience over the years.
The drill goes somewhat like this. I approach the airline counter with my honest Midwestern face, beam at the clerk and proffer my airline ticket. She beamingly accepts it and starts to process me. Beaming smile is replaced by a look of concern as she consults her computer screen. "Mr Ryan, it says you are on a watch list. I am sure there is some mistake!" I am always tempted to tell her that "No, there is no mistake; I really am the Beast of the Apocalypse!" Instead, I always smile graciously and say "I'm sure it will be straightened out!"
And it always is, usually through some sort of computer conference. I have never been turned back, nor have I been subjected to unusual search. Apparently, the drill which usually takes about 10 to 15 extra minutes is simply to watch me or at least take note of me. I always feel a bit sheepish or guilty because I feel I should do something to entertain my watchers; perhaps a few card tricks, or cartwheels, or maybe a juggling routine?
The minutes pass, a phone call is received. The clerk beams again and hands me my boarding pass. It is stamped 'WATCH LIST" in red ink. I wonder if I can trade it in for a free drink, or better yet, an upgrade to First Class, befitting someone who Should Be Watched.
Joan is always vastly amused by the drill. She had remarked on more than one occasion that in marrying me she realized she would never be rich, but she would never be bored. She was certainly correct about the former.
The flight to Kona is long, dull and uneventful. Which, considering the post 9/11 alternatives, is exactly how you want it.
We arrived at Kona International Airport at 4 in the afternoon. Kona looks like the gateway to West Hell, or more prosaically, that part of central Idaho around Craters of the Moon National Park. It is always amusing to watch the dubious expressions on the faces of first time visitors to Kona. They were clearly expecting palm trees and verdant tropical rain forest, but this is desert Hawaii; acre after black acre of grim lava fields, tufted with dried golden brown grass.
Kona is a clear case of "When given lemons, make lemonade" or rather, when given lava, make money. While rainfall is necessary to agriculture, it is the kiss of death to tourism except in places like Scotland and Ireland where they have conned the visitor into regarding rain as part of the cultural experience. When visitors come to Hawaii, they want "8 (or whatever) glorious days of sunshine." Kona is able to guarantee this. The resorts themselves are irrigated and soil has been trucked in to provide the requisite verdant tropical background.
Actually, this is really not bad land use; putting the big resorts on the lunar side of the Big Island and raising tourists for fun and profit; quite literally the only crop that will grow there as even grazing requires gymnastic ability on the part of the cows.
There are relatively few resorts where we are going; Hilo on the "wet' side of the island.
"Wet" is of course a relative term. Seattle, America's famously damp city averages around 30 inches a year. In Hilo, if the rainfall dips below 70 inches a year. A drought is declared and the citizens ordered to conserve water. Normal rainfall is around 120 inches a year. The saving grace of Hilo is that rain arrives in fairly large chunks at predictable times of day and year, with a generous ration of blue sky, rather than the steady gray drizzle that drives Seattlans so famously bonkers.
We pick up our bags and try to pick up our rental car. It is not immediately forthcoming. Joan is upset. She responds in Eastern American fashion; indignant outrage.
The Hawaiian rental car lady will have none of that.
She presses the Aloha Spirit button.
Now I must admit that before I first visited Hawaii, I had cynically regarded the "Aloha Spirit" as a concoction of the Hawaii Tourist Bureau. I was wrong.
Hawaiians generally ARE friendlier than other Americans. This does not mean you cannot be robbed, cheated, or if you manage the right connections, murdered in Hawaii. It simply means that Hawaiians come at life from a different angle, using cooperative leverage rather than direct force to solve a problem.
The friendliness is certainly not subservient. The Rental Car lady basically tells Joan to shut up and calm down, but in the nicest way possible, with the twinkling, lilting Hawaiian accent thrown in for lagniappe. She points out to Joan that her situation has vastly improved in the last few minutes. No longer is she imprisoned in an aluminum sausage, breathing in the exudations of 300 other cramped cranky passengers, but rather she has arrived in the flower scented air of Hawaii (Cue in the perfumed breeze and damned if one doesn't appear!) and the cares and woes of mainland life will gradually slip away. Two minutes of this Aloha Judo and the rental lady had Joan purring about old times in Hawaii. Five minutes later, our car arrived.
Hawaii is one of only four entity or nation states in the United States. That is, states that are perceived by the rest of the US (and indeed, the rest of the world, as being somehow "different" from the rest of the US. The Entity States are Hawaii, Alaska, California, and Texas (shudder!) plus of course, the City State of New York City (Upstate New York has nothing in common with NYC, being basically Pennsylvania without the Amish and cheese steaks).
It is no coincidence that three of the four Entity States were independent republics before they joined the United States. (Alaska is an "entity" state because of its unequalled mass of sheer, raw Nature.)
In addition to having been a Republic, Hawaii is the only state to have been a kingdom, making it even more exotic!
Indeed, everything about Hawaii is exotic: even the graffiti is exotic,
Exotic graffiti? Yup! The graffiti of the Kona Coast is unique. -- and actually quite charming! Now in most parts of the US that has flat rocks, such as Joshua Tree National Park , graffiti is applied with a spray can by some terminally brain dead gang member.
However, Hawaii, or at least rural Hawaii, is one of the most environmentally aware states in the union, so even the graffiti has to be environmentally correct.
How is this done? Well, say that John loves Mary and would like to demonstrate that concept with a little graffiti. John drives out on highway 19, which skirts the beach through an impressive flow of coal black lava. He stops along the beach and gathers a sufficient pile of snow white coral chunks and pebbles. John then walks out into the lava flow and selects a large flat slab of lava lying at just the right angle for easy viewing from the highway. He then arranges the white coral pebbles to spell out JOHN then the traditional heart with arrow, followed by MARY.
Does it work? I suspect that it does, neighbors, as there are hundreds of these statements and entreaties scattered mile after mile. When you think about it, is cheaper than a dozen roses and probably less harmful to the environment.
The road is two lane and the traffic is heavy, certainly comparable to suburban Maryland at rush hour; the price of paradise. The 17th century philosopher Blaise Pascal said that Man's unhappiness was due to an inability to sit still in a room. Pascal had no idea of what would happen when Man was able to make the room mobile. It is a two hour drive from Kona International airport to Hilo. The highway was a steel river through paradise. We agreed to take a coffee break at the half way point, the former cow town of Waimea, headquarters of the Parker Ranch.
Improbably, the Parker Ranch was for a time at least, not only the largest cattle ranch in the United States, but also the oldest, dating back to the early 19th century and anteceding the famed King ranch in Texas. Today, I suspect one of Ted Turner's ranches may have surpassed the Parker Ranch in acreage (139,000). However, I doubt if Ted's ranch's carries the number of cattle (35,000 head) which, when you think about it, is what cattle ranching is all about. If the question of who has the biggest ranch really bothers you, and you are not on first name basis with Ted Turner, then I suggest you ask Mike Finley, former superintendent of Yellowstone who now works for Mr. Turner.
At the Parker Ranch Store there are photos of the early day "paniolos" or Hawaiian cowboys. They are quite good at what they do, even if they have names like Edison Fong or Nelson Yamaguchi. The cowboys in the photos, both ancient and modern all wear the trademark paniolo cowboy hat, which is made of thick bladed straw and properly frayed, crushed, and soil and sweat stained. At the Parker Ranch Store you can buy an exact replica of a paniolo hat, artificially crushed, frayed and "dirt and sweat" stained. It is of course, like everything else, made in China.
The main reason for the Waimea stop was to top me off on enough coffee to keep me from falling inconveniently asleep on the road after our ten hour flight.
This part of the Big Island is the epicenter for the famed Kona coffee reputedly the finest coffee in the world (Along with, some say, the Blue Mountain Coffee of Jamaica) the reason for the perfection of Kona coffee is a curious accident of microclimate. It seems that the best type of coffee is Arabica (the original stuff that the Arabs probably brought from the highlands of Ethiopia) It is tasty, but sun sensitive and requires just the right amount of shade. It is hard to get the exact amount of shade available and production is restricted.
However, due to a freak of microclimate, a certain section of the Kona coast gets bright sunshine in the morning and a convenient, shady cloud in the afternoon, regular as clockwork. This means that Arabica can be grown in the open without shade from trees and competition for nutrients, producing a heavy and tasty crop of premium beans.
Just exactly how heavy is a matter of some speculation. The coffee growing area is very limited, but it seems that annual production approaches the gross tonnage of the battleship Missouri, and you can buy "100% Kona Coffee" anywhere. This leads to a certain amount of cynicism in the same vein as whether that $100 bottle of wine is really full of $100 wine -- and whether you can really tell the difference.
After Waimea, the traffic slacked off and we were in rural Hawaii -- dark rural Hawaii,
Dusk comes quickly in the tropics. Also the days are not too much longer in January Hawaii than in January Washington, DC, something that often disappoints mainland visitors to Hawaii, who associate warm, sunny days with the long days of the mainland summer. Doesn't work that way, neighbors. Hawaii is much closer to the equator, where days and nights are of equal duration.
After another hour, we crossed the "Singing Bridge" into Hilo (Due to the periodic heavy rainfall, the floor of the bridge is made of steel mesh to avoid flooding; this makes for a peculiar "singing" sound as you cross the bridge) We found our friend's home, a magnificent old sugar plantation manager's home that is on the National Register of Historic Places. They are retired Foreign Service folks, so their home is full of the folk art of the places they served, very much like the homes of retired National Park People is often full of regional American folk art.
We were greeted warmly, given a good stiff drink and put to bed like the travel shocked veterans we were.,
Just before dosing off, I recalled hearing a melodious trilling sound, very loud, very persistent, but also, rather pleasant.
The next morning at breakfast, I asked our host about the rising, falling songs I had heard.
"That was the famous Coqui frog mating song!" She laughed "How do you like it?
"Very pleasant! Much like birdsong" I averred.
"That's what I think!" She said. "But the neighbors don't agree. They want to poison them all! They can't stand the sound!
Coqui frogs are Hawaii's latest invasive species. They hail from Puerto Rico. They entered accidentally, probably in egg form on shipments of live plants from Puerto Rico in the 1980's.
Prior to the arrival of the Coquis, Hawaii had no frogs. This is not the case today; there are literally millions of the tiny (about 1.5 inch) tree frogs on the Big Island of Hawaii. They are almost impossible to spot in the thick vegetation, but VERY easy to hear. In fact, you would have to be deaf as a coral head not to hear Coqui frogs at night on the Big Island. Indeed, the more hysterical Coqui critics claim that high concentrations of the frogs can reach 70 decibels!
To be sure, that level of sound might "Lower Property Values". (To the uninformed, LOWERING PROPERTY VALUES in middle class America has replaced eight of the Ten Commandments and all of the Seven Deadly Sins as something to be avoided!
Is it really that bad? Well now I suspect like most things in life, it's sort of what you're used to. Back in Puerto Rico, the Coqui is something of a Commonwealth symbol. Most rural Puerto Ricans grew up with the Coqui sound, and indeed, some Puerto Ricans have cassette recordings of the Coqui mating call to help them sleep in New York City or Chicago. Sadly, due to deforestation in Puerto Rico, the Coqui is getting rare on his native turf (They're tree frogs, remember?)
On the other hand, if you are not Puerto Rican and have psyched yourself into the idea that the continuous KO-kee call is really bad, well, then it really is, at least to you.
The problem is that the cure is often worse than the environmental problem. Folks buy sprays containing a weak acid said to skin the poor frogs alive. Another rather cruel trick is a caffeine based spray 100 times more concentrated than your cup of Starbuck's that is supposed to speed up their little hearts until they have a fatal heart attack. Various private exterminators promise a Coqiui free neighborhood if only everyone will sign up for their rather expensive program. State and Federal agencies have chimed in that the Coqui, being an exotic, was, well, bad. So much so, that Puerto Rico's Delegate to Congress decided to lodge a protest against the somewhat hysterical war against the Puerto Rican symbol.
Since there are no native frogs for the Coquis to displace, is there any other environmental damage that the tree frogs do, aside from driving silence freaks up the wall?
Well, officially they endanger the fragile Hawaiian bird life by devouring the mosquitoes and termites that the birds feed upon. One problem with that argument is that mosquitoes and termites are not indigenous to the Hawaiian Islands, but were introduced by the White Man. According to anecdotal evidence, the Coqui have made considerable inroads into Hawaii's mosquito population. The linguist, C.J. Bailey tells me that he is now able to have a drink on his porch at night, something that was impossible before the Coquis arrived.
I would have to ask the folks over at Hawaii Volcanoes National Park as to their response to the Coqui Frog Menace.
The Coqui frogs had politely stopped their chorus slightly before breakfast, leaving us with an uninterrupted day in Paradise. So we thanked our hosts for a sumptuous island breakfast and prepared to do the day.
What to do? There were many opportunities for Adventure! The best opportunity was a chance to visit Hawaii's highest waterfall and break the law at the same time! You can't beat that combination, neighbors.
Break the law? Yup! Sometimes you have to violate a regulation just to test a legal point or to make a moral statement. It's called Civil Disobedience and was practiced by Henry David Thoreau, Mohandas Gandhi, and, of course, Martin Luther King. Is Civil Disobedience dangerous? It can be. Neighbors; two of the above practitioners got themselves shot for their trouble.
You mean to say there's a law against looking at the Hawaii's highest waterfall?
Of course not! Once you're there, you can look all you want, even take pictures. stand on your head if you like. After all, 1450 foot Hi'ilawe Waterfall is on State Forest Reserve land, and is the property of all Hawaiians, and thus all Americans, a gift from God, yours to enjoy. The neat thing about Hawaii is that its state parks and forest reserves are open to the public free of charge, whether you have money or not! Now scumbags like Karl Rove and quite a few environmental Quislings in the U.S, National Park Service and the U.S. Forest Service would say that it's only "commonsense" that you should have to pay to look at Nature! Hawaii disagrees. Hurrah for Hawaii!
The problem is getting to the State Forest Reserve. It is true that most of the hike to the waterfall is in the State Forest Reserve, but to get to the State Forest Reserve trail to the falls, you have to hike half a mile down a private road to the State Forest Until fairly recently, there were no objections to hikers using the private road. Now we were told, the gate had been locked and "NO TRESPASSING" signs put up.
The legal issue was whether private land owners could keep the public from accessing public land. This is not an arcane matter, neighbors. In the state of Colorado, for example, many folks enjoy the sport of "Bagging the 14's". This is simply the hobby of climbing every Colorado Mountain over 14,000 feet. Now most of these peaks are located on public land, usually Forest Service; HOWEVER, occasionally the peak access trail crosses private land. In the past, this was not a problem. The land owner did not object as long as there was no trash, vandalism and gates were opened and closed. That was then. Now there is cause for alarm that private property owners might such off access to the peaks.
Today, thanks to population pressures and a Greedhead philosophy that increasingly divides Americans into landless serfs with ever diminishing rights and a landed aristocracy with ever increasing rights, people's right to access to public land is being contested.
Can Liberal Democrats be Greedheads? With bells on, neighbors! You may recall the Battle of Malibu in which a group of leftish Hollywood moguls sought to deny public access to Malibu Beach because it would compromise their privacy, and, well, they wanted the beach for themselves. They eventually lost, thank God.
Trespass is a peculiarly American problem. Most European countries believe in the right of Usufruct. Basically, this is the right of innocent passage through privately owned forests and farms. Usually, this "right of passage" involves centuries old paths, tracks or right of way. Usufruct also includes the right to harvest wild crops such as berries or mushrooms. You may not, of course, harvest the landowner's crops, timber, or livestock. Usually, (but not always) the landowner sells the right to hunt and fish on his property. As Europe has comparatively little public land, the Usufruct Concept is a very rough substitute for our public lands in the US.
In the US, the Usufruct concept involving private lands is often regional. In the South for example, it is considered "neighborly" to let folks, particularly local folks, hunt on your land. To forbid them to do so would be considered "unneighborly", with certain repercussions, ranging from snubbing at the local hardware store to significantly more wear and tear on your possessions than random chance would seem to allow, particularly if you are a damnyankee.
This is not the case in Texas. In Texas, Trespass can be deadly.
Most land in Texas is private: with a vengeance! Usufruct is unknown and if it was, it would be declared un-Texan.
The last person to hike across Texas without seeking permission was Cabaza De Vaca, and that was in the 16th century and he had a world of trouble!
More recently, THUNDERBEAR offered $300 to anyone who could hike a compass line across Texas without using public roads and live to tell about it.
I was gently admonished to withdraw my offer as some damnfool might take me up on it and NOT live to tell about it. (Rumor has it that members of the SAS, the super secret, super competent British Special Forces unit, may have attempted a trans-Texas trek, as they do difficult geographical challenges as part of their training.)
I recall swapping Texas Trespass stories with Texas native son, Art Allen, who had recently retired from the Blue Ridge Parkway.
Art told the story of an NPS historian out in West Texas who was researching the route of the Old Butterfield Stage line. He had been warned about trespassing, but saw an interesting mound that might have been one of the stations. He drove around looking for the ranch house, but was unable to find any human (West Texas is BIG!) The historian needed a photo of the mound and climbed over the fence. A cowboy sprang up like mushroom and cold cocked him with the butt of his .44. FBI investigated that one. Nothing came of it. Clear case of trespass. Lucky he didn't get shot.
Others have not been so lucky. A Texas power company needed to find out if there were any endangered species on a right of way they were purchasing across a Texas ranch. They dutifully hired a contract botanist to check it out. The Power line company asked the rancher if it would be alright for the botanist to come on the property. The rancher said yes, and the botanist started botanizing. Oops! The rancher hadn't passed the info along to his foreman. The ranch foreman saw the botanist picking wildflowers, so he shot him. (I mean, wouldn't you?) That case wasn't so clear, and I think there were some damages to pay.
Now why are we talking about Texas trespass while we are planning on walking a forbidden trail in Hawaii? Well, Texas is at the crazy end of the Trespass spectrum. You can definitely get hurt.
Hawaii I wasn't real sure about. Would we be arrested or just cited? Would we threatened? It would be interesting to find out.
The road to the trail that leads to the waterfall near the end of the legendary Waipio Valley was interrupted by a formidable wooden gate six feet high, secured with chains festooned by the padlocks of the various landowners. There was considerable legal doubt over the right of property owners to prevent access to the hiking trail on public land. Other hikers thought so, as their cars lined the road before the gate.
Our resolve was strengthened by a group of hikers who politely read the fierce NO TRESPASSING signs complete with regs and penalties -- and proceeded to scamper over the fence.
Now neighbors, I hesitated. I'm from the Midwest. We never break the law -- unless it's a moral necessity, I took a deep breath and clambered over the gate. It could be a long half mile.
TO BE CONTINUED