DO YOU HAVE A FRIEND IN WASO?
Neighbors, I think we can all agree that the Ken Burns Series on the National Parks was the finest documentary ever made on the subject of our National Parks.
Now there might be a few quibbles. Historians might not all agree that the national parks were "The Best Idea we ever had." (Some would say that would be the Bill of Rights; Michelle Obama might argue for the 13th and 14th Amendments. The WEEKLY STANDARD, the gospel according to the Republican Party, states that the National Parks Idea does not even make the top ten best ideas. "Is it better than drive-thru liquor stores?" an October issue of the STANDARD inquired.)
Other critics of the Burns documentary might say that the historical and cultural units of the park system were slighted in favor of the charismatic mega scenery of the great natural parks, and so on.
However, all in all, it was a magnificent documentary tour de force.
On the other hand, as Ken Burns has suggested, there may be a problem.
No, the problem might not be the increased visitation that Burns envisioned.
Rather, due to a combination of the beauty and educational value of the National Parks AND the kindly, helpful, encouraging, national park rangers, the taxpayer might be tempted to visit the Washington Office of the National Park Service (WASO) to learn more about this remarkable system that Dr. Robin Winks of Yale described as "The world's greatest University Without Walls, with over 380 campuses."
In short, George and Martha Visitor might be encouraged to pay WASO a visit if they were in Washington DC.
That would be a mistake.
You see, the Washington Office of the National Park Service (WASO for short) is not taxpayer friendly.
So what? You ask. No Federal agency's Washington headquarters is taxpayer friendly.
That is true.
If you were to attempt to visit the "George Bush Center for Intelligence" (Now THERE'S an oxymoron!), the headquarters of the CIA, you will be met by an armed response.
If you attempt to acquaint yourself with the folks at the J.Edgar Hoover FBI Building you will be turned away. (Sorry! No more guided tours after 9/11.)
Visiting the Pentagon to ask the fate of your tax dollars would be politely but firmly thwarted.
Even agencies that are not directly involved in Homeland Security are not taxpayer friendly.
It is the rare federal agency in DC where you can walk in the front door and ask "I'm curious. What, exactly, does your agency do?"
Usually, the private security guard will ask if you have an appointment; and generally speaking, most people do have an appointment with a specific individual as, generally speaking, people do not visit a federal agency for the fun of it.
Except for units of the National Park Service: The NPS is one of the rare fun federal agencies and that fact is one of the many reasons that Ken Burns made his documentary about the national parks and not about the Internal Revenue Service.
The environmental gadfly, Edward Abbey once remarked, "The National Park System is one of the very few decent things which the US GovernmentÑthat remote and faceless institution Ðhas ever provided for ordinary citizens. Maintaining the Park System is almost the only nice, friendly thing, which the federal government does for ordinary people. Nearly all of its other activities, carried out at our expense, are for the benefit of the rich and powerful, or for the sake of secret, furtive, imperial causes that can inspire in us feelings only of sickness, shame and dread." (These iconic and prophetic words were written in 1970, three decades before the Bush & Cheney disasters; not much has changed.)
Abbey is correct. Americans do love their national parks and their park service.
George and Martha Visitor can thus be forgiven for thinking that "Since we were treated so kindly and learned so much in Yellowstone and Great Smoky, we will surely have a similar pleasant experience if we visit WASO during our trip to DC."
Don't bet the ranch on it, George!
Martha Visitor believes they might even meet the Director of the National Park Service and thank him for what he has done.
Not bloody likely, Martha!
Ah! But can your cynical, pessimistic editor REALLY prove this? Is it REALLY true that WASO is unfriendly?
Moreover, there has been a change of Administration: Perhaps there has been a thorough shakeup! Perhaps there has been a transfusion of the plasma of human kindness from the NPS field to WASO?
Well neighbors, there was only one-way to settle the question. I would have to play tourist and visit WASO and the Department of The Interior.
To pass as an out of town visitor, I dressed in full reactionary regalia; that is, broad brimmed cowboy hat, silver and turquoise bolo tie, western cut Pendleton suit jacket with suede shoulder and elbow patches, pants held up by tooled leather belt secured by a belt buckle half the size but twice as ornate as a Cadillac hub cap, and, of course, shit kicker cowboy boots.
This is the kind of outfit that welfare ranchers or predatory oilmen wear to visit their Neanderthal Congressional representatives before going down to the Department of The Interior to try to intimidate some hapless Bureau of Land Management bureaucrat into giving them far more than they deserve at the public land through.
Wearing this Redneck ensemble, there is no danger that your editor will be mistaken for a local. However, there is a downside to the disguise; walking down to Interior from the Metro station, I am importuned by various sturdy beggars who believe they have spotted an out of town mark. ("Please Sir! I haven't eaten in three days!" etc etc) I resist the impulse to lecture them against substance abuse and state the shining example of a number of fellow addicts who overcame chemical dependency and became Presidents of the United States.
A brisk walk down to 18th and C streets brings me to the Mussolini Modern fortress of the Department of the Interior.
I tell the rent-a-guard at the desk that I would like to learn all I can about the National Park Service.
"Then you will want to visit the National Park Information, room 1013!" he responds and provides me with a red VISITORS badge.
Now neighbors in all my years at WASO, I must confess that I have never visited room 1013, so this will be a new adventure for me. I really will be able to play the novice WASO visitor without fibbing.
I strode purposefully down the sacred halls of Interior to room 1013.
It was a narrow, "L"-shaped room, rather Spartan in décor and furnishing. There were no inspirational Ken Burns or Ansel Adams type photomurals on the walls. There was a wall map of the United States showing the locations of the units of the national parks.
In addition, there was a rack containing the brochures of all the 380 units of the National Park System. Now this was indeed a find! There must be another place open to the public where you can treat yourself to all the park brochures, starting with Adams National Historical Site and ending with Zion National Park, but I don't know where it is.
I have always considered these park brochures to be little gems of historical and natural history writing and illustrating, getting everything worth knowing into a standard format that could be slipped into a legal size government envelope and mailed off to an inquiring taxpayer. They are totally amazing!
Taken together these little jewels make up a real treasure trove of beauty and information. Their creators, The Harpers Ferry Center should take one step forward and bow! Indeed, the park brochures easily surpass the NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC'S overpriced "Complete National Parks of the United States" in all aspects except portability.
In case you never thought of WASO as a unit of the NPS, there is proof positive in the WASO park passport stand. Yes, Room 1013 has a passport stand! This is a very clever PR idea that appeals to the collecting mania of the average American. Some sharp NPS individual that liked foreign travel noted that his/her passport was filling up with exotic stamps from those faraway places with the strange sounding names. He/She suggested that the parks sell a "park passport" and that each park have its own unique ink stamp, so that the Park "collector" could check off each park visited. It seems that visiting all 380 + units of the NPS is not as easy as it sounds. Some, like American Samoa National Park are remote; some like Aniakchak are remote and dangerous. I suspect that more people have completed the Appalachian Trail than have visited all the units of the NPS.
Room 1013 also boasts a small but eclectic collection of books on various units of the NPS, apparently for sale. (But not really; they are samples and you must buy them on line from the Eastern Parks Cooperating Association.)
There was a desk at the joint of the "L" where a lady in civilian dress. apparently a volunteer, was seated, eating her lunch. There was an office at the short end of the "L" where a uniformed ranger sat at her desk doing whatever she was doing.
The volunteer lady greeted me politely and asked if I had any questions. I replied that I could wait until she had finished lunch; she replied that she could handle my questions while she ate. So I began.
Now neighbors, I think God put us on this earth to ask questions but I don't think the main question should be "Where is the toilet?"
That, unfortunately, is the cosmic question put to the NPS employee or volunteers in all units of the NPS.
Needless to say, this is very demoralizing to the staff member. He/she did not spend four years in college to pinpoint the location of toilets.
Therefore it is your duty as an NPS "visitor" to come up with a question or series of questions that will inform you AND stimulate the park staff member. God wants it that way.
I told the volunteer that I would like to go fishing in the Tidal Basin in front of the Jefferson Memorial. Would that be a problem?
The volunteer lady took a bite of her sandwich, chewed a bit, knitted her brow and asked "Can you do that?"
"Well now, that's for us to find out, isn't it? I said, hopefully activating Team WASO.
She offered me a phone and a Mall park unit number to call. I called.
The NPS staff member on the Mall said that I would need a Washington, DC fishing license. Would a Maryland license do? (Unlike most river boundaries between states, Maryland owns the Potomac bank to bank, not just half across, and, as the tidal Basin is an inlet of the river, albeit largely man made, I was not out of line for thinking that my Maryland Fishing license would apply.)
I was wrong. The ranger said only a DC license would suffice.
Very good. I assumed that I would be able to buy the required license at the Jefferson Memorial gift shop. My assumption was incorrect. According to the Mall ranger neither the Park Service nor its cooperating association sold DC fishing licenses. (Why not? The various NPS cooperating associations sell all manner of tacky trash in addition to inspirational books; why not sell something useful like a fishing license? Indeed, a DC fishing license, suitable for framing, would make a great souvenir of one's visit to the capital.)
OK, so I would need a DC fishing license. Would I need a permit for my kayak?
"You can't use a boat on the Tidal Basin" the ranger responded.
"Why not?"
"There are no access roads to the Basin". The ranger said patiently.
"Don't need any" I said, "It's an inflatable kayak, it comes with straps like a back pack. You carry it on your back walk to where you need to launch."
"Oh" said the ranger, that avenue of denial blocked, "Well, anyway, private boats are not allowed on the Tidal Basin."
Well now, neighbors, you might say bully for the aesthetically sensitive National Park Service! The Tidal Basin should be a Pool of Reflection, both literally and figuratively in which the visitor could contemplate the beauty of Jefferson Memorial and the significance of Jefferson's actions and lofty words, an experience unmarred by the sight of some yahoo fishing in an inflatable boat.
That would be true except that a park concession maintains an armada of around 50 pedal boats for rent on the Tidal Basin. Now pedal boats are about as Coney Island and Disneyesque as you can get without actually welding Mickey Mouse ears on them, so aesthetics be damned!
However, I suspect that the Concessionaire has enough clout on Capitol Hill, that if Director Jarvis were to suggest pedal boats were not the sum total of Jefferson's ideas, and that they should leave the Tidal Basin, Mr. Jarvis would be looking for another retirement job.
On the other hand, it would seem fair that the very small number of people, who could carry a portable boat to the Basin's edge, be allowed to do so without paying a fee to a concessionaire.
Ah well! So I could not use my kayak. With a DC fishing license, I would still be able to fish from the bank. Half a loaf is better than none!
"I must contact the DC government for a fishing license. How do I do that?" I asked the uniformed WASO ranger.
"THE DC GOVERNMENT! OH GOD!" She wailed from her office echoing the frustrations of the citizens of DC in dealing with their Byzantine city government.
"Try '311' and good luck." The WASO ranger added.
"311" got you to the "Mayor's office" (actually, a pretty good telephone tree that eventually gets you to the department you needed; which in my case was the DC Department of Wildlife and Fisheries.)
I was advised to apply for my fishing license "on line" and it would be mailed to me.
That would not do.
If I were a rapacious despoiler of the environment, in town for the purpose of bribing a Congressman with a campaign "donation", but in need of a fishing fix (One cannot be Evil all the time, neighbors, it wears you down!) I would need to get a DC fishing license PDQ.
I was told that Park's Hardware Store on "H" street as well as Frager's Hardware on Pennsylvania Avenue sold DC fishing licenses. The license was $13 for non-residents, and when you consider the cost of stuff in DC, it is a real bargain. (Now most Americans don't know this, but Europeans and Asians who don't have the American prejudice against that fish consider the Tidal Basin a world-class fishery for carp.)
Very good! First question satisfactorily answered. Now on to the next.
"What is the Wupatki Lottery Hike?" I inquired.
The Volunteer Lady, now on her second half sandwich, paused in mid-bite, cocked an eyebrow and asked: "The What?"
I couldn't blame her puzzlement. I too was puzzled, which is why I was at the Information Center.
My wife and I had been hiking on the "Billy Goat B" trail in the nearby C & O Canal National Park. As the name implies, the trail requires a modicum of scrambling over rocks, but in no sense is it a "difficult" or "strenuous" trail as guidebooks are wont to warn. Imagine my surprise when we encountered a hiker carrying an expedition pack, complete with camel type hydration system. It is important to be prepared but this looked like overkill.
I commented on his preparedness and he replied that he had won The Wupatki Lottery and was in training for the Hike. He said that he had not expected to win the lottery, but he had and it was necessary that he check out his new gear before he flew out to Arizona to do the Hike.
I was about to question him further but his hiking companion called him ahead, so we were left with the mystery of the Wupatki Lottery hanging tantalizingly in mid air.
Later, I googled up Wupatki-Sunset Crater. Located near Flagstaff, Arizona, it was a National Park Service administered series of archeological sites that were made possible by the eruption of a cinder cone type volcano, (Sunset Crater) but there was nothing about a hike and a lottery to obtain it.
While the WASO Volunteer lady had no idea of what I was talking about (Nor did I.), she suggested the obvious; call Wupatki National Monument, and provided a telephone to do so.
I called Wupatki on the WASO info office telephone and got enthusiastic Ranger Holly on the line.
"I believe you are referring to the "Crack-In-The Rock Hike" she laughed. "Yes, the hikers are selected by lottery because it's only done 8 times a years and only 15 people are allowed on each hike, and two of the 15 are Park Service staff.
"You must be in reasonably good shape and be an experienced backpacker. There is no trail; you will be hiking across volcanic sand and rocks. It is a 16 mile round trip that takes two days. There is no water, so you must carry a minimum of two gallons for the hike. This means 16 pounds in addition to the rest of your gear, which will include food, tent and sleeping bag, as you will be camping overnight.
Although the hikes are scheduled during the 8 weekends of April and October, it can be warm at mid-day and there is no shade."
As the hike was beginning to sound like the Stations of the Cross without the Resurrection, I asked Ranger Holly what was the point?
"I don't know your background" she enthused, "but most of our hikers consider The Crack in the Rock Hike to be one of the most memorable experiences of their lives. If you are at all able, I strongly encourage you to apply for this hike. During your two day walk, you will visit one of the finest collections of Petroglyphs in the Southwest as well as spectacular unexcavated ruins, including the name sake ruin, which you access by climbing up a crack in the rock You will see artifacts lying on the ground, which is why the Wupaki backcountry is off limits except for these guided hikes. An NPS Ranger archeologist will accompany you at all times and answer your questions."
Well now! Wupatki and its hike certainly was beginning to sound like one of Dr. Robin Wink's "380 campuses of a Great University."
Ranger Holly provided me with the nitty gritty on how to apply for the "Crack in the Rock" Trail. (Among other things, you are going to have to come up with $50.) She also added a human touch to the contact. "You said you were calling from the Washington, DC area. Where in the DC area would that be?" I admitted I was from Wheaton. "Oh, good! " She bubbled, "I'm from Rockville! (Next town) We hope to see you next year!"
Well done, Ranger Holly! It is these small touches that humanize the proverbial "faceless bureaucrat" and make the NPS an exception to the prejudice against the Federales. I thanked her profusely.
Now then! Things were perking along! I had two of my questions answered, I would be prepared to go fishing in the Tidal Basin and we had solved the mystery of the "Wupatki Lottery and the Crack in the Rock Hike.
Only one more question to go! Would Team WASO be up to it?
"How do you get a job with the National Park Service?" I asked.
Admittedly, this was a biggie: Perhaps the Mount Everest of questions that could be tendered; a philosophical as well as an economic question that had to be approached gingerly. It was first officially asked by Jim Ridenour, a Republican political appointee to the Directorship of the National Park Service during the administration of President George Bush The Elder.
The question had been casual; some acquaintance had asked him about how you got a job as a park ranger as they had college age kids that were interested. Ridenour, being a newly minted political appointee, did not know, but said he would ask the NPS career professionals that were doing the actual running of the NPS. Turned out, according to Ridenour, that nobody really knew how you got into the Park Service, or at least could easily be explained to a taxpayer in real time. Ridenour, a nice chap, vowed to clarify hiring.
As that had been several Administrations ago, I suspected that the problem had been corrected. Moreover, I wasn't asking the question to be mischievous, but rather because a young acquaintance had asked me and I had to tell her that sadly my information was undoubtedly dated, but that I would try to discover the latest path into the NPS, hence my question to Team WASO.
So, how do you get a job in the National Park Service? Team WASO mulled that one over.
The uniformed WASO ranger fell back on the Computer God. "You have to go on line for that. Just go to www.nps.gov and they'll give you the forms to download."
Oh. Forms to download and fill out. Hmmm! My friend would like to learn more about an NPS career. I have told her a number of things about the agency, but times change and after all, I am a living fossil. I have the idea she would like to talk to a real, live, up-to-date person about a career in the modern NPS.
The WASO ranger mulled that over. No, they had no one present capable of counseling a young acolyte.
Do you have a brochure or booklet on the subject of employment? Umm, not at this time or place.
Now George and Martha Visitor might believe that the National Park Service hangs out in Main Interior at 18th and C. That is only partly true. The Director and his Associates hold forth in Main Interior (along with National Park Information), but the bulk of the WASO worker bees are nested in an office building at "eye" st.
"Perhaps someone over there might have some information? Perhaps at the Personnel or Human Resources, or whatever they call the office." I asked.
Team WASO agreed that while that was a possibility, it would be difficult.
"You have to know someone to get in the building" the WASO ranger said dubiously.
Hmm, sort of like Uncle Sam's Speakeasy!
It clearly would not have been a good day for George and Martha Visitor.
"I know someone in Personnel" The Volunteer Lady said, riding to the rescue. "You can ask her!" She jotted down a name and told me that if I hurried, I could catch the 1:15 free shuttle over to "Eye " Street.
I thanked Team WASO and headed off to catch the shuttle.
The "Eye" Street working headquarters of the National Park Service is a chrome, glass and marble update of Castle Dracula. Although there were no bats flying out of the towers, the foreboding effect was about the same. (The NPS shares the building with one of the more paranoid of Homeland Security agencies and therefore security is tight as a tick).
There are at least two levels of Security and that is just to get into the reception area of the building. The first level of Security directs you through a glass door into NPS security. There you are asked who you want to see. That person will be responsible for your every move within the NPS Inner Sanctum and is obliged to keep an eye on you at all times. (At Main Interior, you are trusted a bit more and, with your visitor's badge, can wonder around a bit, visiting the Library, the Museum, the Indian craft shop, and so on.)
While my escort was enroute, I was passed through the electronic devices, which alerted to my Swiss Army knife, which was politely confiscated for the duration of my visit.
I apologized to my escort for making an appointment at extremely short notice and she was graciously helpful. (The same scenario would apply for George and Martha Tourist who might impulsively decide to check on NPS career opportunities for young Jennifer or Bradley.)
We went up by elevator to one of the NPS floors (nice view!) and hiked around the personnel section. Sadly, most of the personalists were out recruiting for the NPS and, well nobody was available. We did go on a treasure hunt for an elusive brochure on NPS employment and careers, but no copies were found.
My escort escorted me down and reunited me with my knife and I continued back to the Metro Station and home. The experiment was over.
So is WASO visitor friendly?
Well, I'd say they give it the old Federal Try!
I eventually got answers to two of my three questions and it really wasn't WASO's fault that the Personnel section was out on a recruiting mission when I made my spur of the moment visit.
Still, I had the feeling that George and Martha, fired up by Ken Burns, might be a tad disappointed. Rather than a state of the art visitor center, with touch screens, dozens of computers loaded with answers to every conceivable question, oodles of other AV gadgets as well as a book store that sells the offerings of all 380 park units, WASO has this dingy little room with a map on the wall, a computer, some brochures and a telephone and a couple of staff.
Dollywood has a better information center than WASO. Even the Drug Enforcement Agency, with its crackerjack interactive museum, has a better information center!
So what is to be done?
Well, first of all, the NPS needs its own building. It not only needs it, but it deserves it being easily the most popular agency in the Federal Government.
The first floor lobby of such building would be devoted to this magical Learning Center whose enthusiastic "Ranger Holly" type staff could lead the taxpayer on a virtual exploration of the 380+ units of the Park System.
"But is there a demand for such a Learning Center"? You ask, Bushily.
Well, no. Not presently. I spent about an hour in the NPS Information Center. During that time, a grand total of two people, other than myself visited Room 1013. Of the two, one was a park ranger visiting from Alaska. Neither visitor stayed long (Unless you have specific questions, as I did, it doesn't take long to absorb a wall map, a rack of brochures and a desk.)
"So, why should we turn WASO into a tourist attraction?" You inquire Reaganly.
"Well, why not? The taxpayers might learn something; a dangerous, but ultimately worthwhile endeavor."
Aside from educating the visiting public, there are practical reasons for the NPS having its own building. Much of the important business of governance is done "after hours" at the famous Washington "Receptions" or "events" where the guests are oiled with free liquor and greased with free food, prior to being glad handed by the Director on behalf of some worthy environmental or historical preservation project. That is one of the many advantages of having your own building; you can stay open as late as needed and do what you need to do, including having an event/reception.
Speaking of historical preservation, it goes without saying that the first choice for a National Park Service Headquarters building would be a renovated historical structure.
One obvious choice would be the quietly magnificent (and historic) South Interior Building, located at 19th and Constitution Avenue, not far from Main Interior, and fronting on the Mall, a very fashionable address, neighbors!
Jerry Rogers, former Chief of Cultural Resources, tells me that South Interior WAS indeed considered as a possible homeland for WASO at various times, but bureaucratic inertia and moving costs intervened. Bad luck, neighbors!
What about now?
Currently, South Interior is the lair of the Office of Surface Mining; one of the more sinister agencies in the Department of Interior It's job is to supervise (pardon me, mitigate) the destruction of the southern Appalachian Mountain ecosystem through mountain top removal in order to get at the coal underneath.
Understandably, most of the environmental community has a strong dislike for the Office of Surface Mining. Ken Burns will probably not do a documentary about The Office of Surface Mining, but Michael Moore might.
While the Office of Surface Mining has few friends other than its grim clientele of coal conglomerates, this doesn't mean that it's going away anytime soon. Money does talk in DC.
HOWEVER, there is no reason that the NPS could not swap its fortress office on "Eye" Street for Surface Mining's historic digs at South Interior. For its part, Surface Mining would undoubtedly be pleased to transfer to a building where Security is Job One.
Now can we guarantee that visitors will flock to the new WASO digs at South Interior?
No guarantees, but death and taxes, friends, but if we provide a service that is interesting, educational, and helpful AND remove barriers, both physical and psychological, well then, I suspect the taxpayers will flock to WASO; not in the numbers that visit the Air & Space Museum, mind you, but still a respectable number, say the average daily summer visitation of a visitor center in a "Crown Jewel" National Park.
"But wouldn't the taxpayers be an annoying bother? Asking embarrassing, impertinent questions; meddling in WASO business and so on? Ô You ask, Nortonly.
No, the state of the art NPS Learning Center would occupy the lobby of South Interior and as in the visitor center in your park, the taxpayers would be politely segregated from Operations by doors marked "Staff Only."
True, the majority of questions will be "Where's the toilet?" (Yes, we would allow the taxpayers to pee in WASO.) That is, after all, a rather primal service. However, having its own building would allow WASO to have its own campfire program.
Why not? You have to think outside the box sometimes! Former Director of the Interior Bruce Babbitt once threatened to activate the old fireplace in his office and set aside an evening once a week where Interiorites with a good idea could sit around the fire with Bruce and talk it over. Babbitt thought that campfires had a magical effect on thought processes. He was right. Unfortunately, the idea got sidetracked.
Fortunately, South Interior has enough of a backyard to hold a small amphitheater and a fire circle. Thus, during the more clement months of the Washington, DC evenings, we could extend the magic of the NPS campfire talk not just to Interiorites but to all taxpayers who might want a free evening's entertainment and education on the subject of the environment and the National Parks. (The programs could be held in an auditorium at noon during the winter months.
Naturally, there is the pregnant question of just who is going to present these programs?
Touchy subject, neighbors!
Now most WASO dwellers hold a high GS rating and are very good at what they do, but not all of them are taxpayers friendly.
Indeed, one can imagine a WASO Division Chief growling "I only do briefings for VERY IMPORTANT people, MY time is much too valuable to waste on (fume!) ...TOURISTS!
Now while it could be argued that the tourist/taxpayers are, after all, the ultimate clients of the NPS, our Division Chief does have a point.
So, who would tell the NPS and WASO story at the campfire and noon programs?
Well now, as is the case in many national parks, WASO could draw on the services of devoted and well-trained park volunteers; in this case, retired NPS living in the Washington, DC area.
Then there would be the park proud NPS from the Field, who would like to present a program on their park to the public while in DC on other business.
Last, but certainly not least, would be the folks from WASO who really DO like taxpayers and would enjoy the opportunity of presenting the mission of the NPS and/or their Division to the visiting public.
"But what about Security?" You ask, Cheneyily.
Glad you asked that one, neighbor!
This is yet another advantage in the NPS having its own building.
The agency could dump the DC rent-a-cops and replace them with armed US Park Rangers.
The rangers are familiar to the visiting public and are light years better trained than the private security services employed by the Department of Interior. With the NPS rangers in charge, Paranoia could be ratcheted down to a reasonable level and the visiting public allowed learning about the mission of the NPS in the Learning Center.
"Who's going to pay for all this liberal environmental nonsense?" You demand, Rushily. "Do YOU know how much it would cost to move TWO federal agencies?
Interesting question, neighbors. No I don't know. Moving does not come cheap in the DC area. I suspect that the total cost, including renovation, would be in the tens of millions of dollars.
However, I do know the cost of America's latest aircraft carrier, the USS GEORGE H.W. BUSH The price tag for the "BUSH" is 6.2 billion dollars.
Now, friends, have you ever noticed that the cost of NPS line items, such as the cost of a composting privy, is greeted with incredulous outrage by Right wing commentators, whereas the 6.2 billion for the "BUSH" trips easily off the tongue.
It is as if Department of Defense monies were delivered by the Military Fairy (a cousin of the Tooth Fairy), at no cost to the taxpayer.
The 6.2 Billion price tag does not include its complement of aircraft. They are FA-18F Super Hornet fighter-bombers. They cost $54.7 million.
Each.
There are 90 of them on board our new carrier. You do the math. If one of the Super Hornet pilots is, God forbid, forced to eject, he/she would have blown away about one and a quarter times the annual budget of Yellowstone National Park in one second.
We are not suggesting that we do not need a new carrier. We are suggesting that the above figures sort of puts the cost of an NPS outhouse or a move to the South Interior Building into prospective. Baring fire or disaster, The South Interior Building can be expected to last indefinitely. The USS GEORGE H.W. BUSH on the other hand, has a life span of around 20 years (about that of a Yellowstone Grizzly).
A permanent home for WASO in an historic building like South Interior could be considered a wise investment in the future for the NPS, allowing WASO to become a learning center for the American taxpayer. It's worth considering.
So, perhaps the question should be rephrased from "Do you have a friend in WASO" to "Should the NPS have a friend in WASO?"
By making WASO a destination and visitor magnet to the millions of Americans who visit their nation's capitol each year, we would be providing a "bully pulpit" to preach the Gospel of Parks to taxpayers who are less than a mile from their elected representatives.
THE MARIN HEADLANDS
There are not many of them.
We are talking about the Sea Mountain Cities.
That is, where mountains, ocean, and a major metropolitan area converge in a spectacular natural and cultural setting.
They are scattered about the globe: Cape Town, Hong Kong, Vancouver, Rio de Janeiro, Wellington, perhaps Honolulu and Seattle, maybe Sydney.
And of course, San Francisco.
Even the most rabid anti urban environmentalist will make an exception for San Francisco as "The City that got it right - sort of."
Portland has actually done more to protect the environment, but it hard to beat the Sea Mountain setting of San Francisco and hard not to fall in love with it.
Part of the allure of The San Francisco Bay Area is the sheer amount of public Green space. Unlike Hong Kong the homes of the rich (or in the case of Rio, the homes of the poor) do not clamber up every hillside.
Visitors are always pleasantly surprised - and curious that the spectacular north end of the Golden Gate is wild; that there are no houses; these are the Marin Headlands.
The Marin Headlands is one of the most spectacular urban landscapes on earth; where views of sea, sky, mountains and San Francisco come together.
Human nature being what it is, one would think that the Marin Headlands would be a discreet gated community for the Masters of the Universe who could appreciate such wealth of natural beauty far more than you or I and could afford to pay for it. Such gated communities are not unknown in California, the most famous being the celebrated "17 mile drive" a section of the California Coast near Carmel where the wealthy allow you to view their homes and their nature for a reasonably stiff admission price (A practice that does not always endear the wealthy to their customers.)
But here we have the magical Marin Headlands, completely free and open to the public; there is not even an "entrance station" with a Smokey Bear demanding money or Golden Eagles of some sort. All you have to do is show up and you can drive, bike or walk right in. That, in the face of an increasingly greedy National Park Service, is kind of magical. ( The late Phil Burton, the local Congressman, had the Socialist idea that parks, libraries and museums should be free to the public)
So how were the Marin Headlands preserved for the public as part of Golden Gate National Recreation Area? Well now, like most National Park Preservation stories, it is one of high drama and narrow escapes, and one worth telling.
But first we should make at least a cursory visit to the Headlands to see what we are talking about.
A kid really should escort you, as the Marin Headlands is a kid's sort of place and it helps to see it with their enthusiasm.
So, borrow a niece, nephew, or grandchild or two and tell them you are going to show them a secret beach, some ghost forts, a pirate's cove, a wizard's lighthouse at the end of the world and a sea lion hospital, and maybe drive over a cliff. That should get their attention.
Take highway 101 North out of San Francisco across the Golden Gate Bridge, take the first exit and follow the GGNRA signs. You will get to a decision point that offers you a choice between "The Coastal Road" and the "Tunnel Road".
Take the Coastal Road. You will not regret it.
The road is steep and somewhat narrow. Try to keep your eyes on the road and on oncoming traffic as you gain altitude. This will not be easy as you are on the most visually spectacular urban drive in North America.
Fortunately, a little less than half way up, there is a turn out for a "scenic view" (which is a monumental understatement). Park your car and lock it (Not everyone in the Bay Area is a Marcher to Zion.) you will recognize the view. It is that awesome NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC shot looking down on the Golden Gate Bridge, San Francisco Bay, the Pacific Ocean and the shining white city of San Francisco.
Now look a little to the right of the parking area. You will see an unmarked gravel road with a chain across it. The road descends rapidly to the sea. Walk around the chain and start the half-mile descent.
Tell your young companion that this is your Secret Beach that you are going to share with him/her, and not to tell anyone or it will not be a Secret anymore.
Actually, it is Kirby Beach, and while it is in most hiking guidebooks, it is remarkably little visited. You walk down through a gulch full of conifers and Eucalypts to the picnic and camping area. In front of you is a ( probably) empty gray sand beach - and the other familiar NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC classic shot of the Golden Gate Bridge and San Francisco, this time at sea level.
Yup, you can camp here with the city lights of San Francisco sparkling behind your campfire. The NPS gives preference to groups, but I imagine a family could book a night or two if they wanted to have the most remarkable urban camping experience available in the National Parks or anywhere else for that matter.
Tell the children to race each other back up the hill to the car (It will tire them out), the better to listen to your lectures on conservation as the Art of the possible and the importance of Luck, Good Timing, and above all perseverance, as well shall see.
Back at the parking lot, take a last look at the classic image of San Francisco and continue on up Hawk Hill, disregard the broad road that leads off to your right and down to Fort Barry.
Your mission is to get to the top of Hawk Hill.
The reason it is called Hawk Hill is because it is here that migratory hawks rest before attempting to fly across the Golden Gate and continue down the Coast Range. The reason that it is a bit unnerving to a hawk is that there are few thermals over the cold water of the Golden Gate and thermals are a hawk's bread and butter. The top of the hill is prime raptor watching in season. (You may tell the children that the main reason we built the Golden Gate Bridge was so hawks with acrophobia could walk across)
Shortly, you come to the top of the hill and the apparent dead end at some kind of abandoned concrete fortification.
The children are a bit disappointed.
"Aren't we going to see the "Wizard's Lighthouse at the End of the World?" One asks petulantly.
"SURE WE WILL! BUT FIRST LET'S DRIVE OFF THE EDGE OF THIS CLIFF!
HOW ABOUT IT, KIDS! SHOULD WE DRIVE OVER THE EDGE?
The children (and your suddenly nervous sister- in- law) can see the Pacific Ocean foaming hundreds of feet below.
What they don't see is that geography has created a very interesting optical illusion.
What looks like a sheer drop into the briny deep is actually the entrance to a very steep, but perfectly safe one-way road.
Before they can answer, you shout "WE'RE BOUND FOR GLORY!" and accelerate toward the apparent cliff.
At this point, your sister in law, who has never regarded you as too tightly wrapped, will start to scream, envisioning that last scene from the movie "Thelma and Louise."
In a second, you are over the crest and descending.
"WOW! COOL! exclaims your Nephew "Can we do it again?"
Your sister-in-law says nothing, but does mutter something under her breath.
Shortly, you are at the trailhead for the half-mile hike to the Point Bonita Light House.
The trailhead is a nice place for a picnic lunch. Your friendly National Park Service agrees, and has provided a couple of picnic tables.
Now if J.R.R. Tolkien had designed lighthouse locations rather than written "Lord of the Rings," Point Bonita would have been his choice.
The hike starts out in a dark and foreboding grove of Tolkien type conifers, which can be gray and dripping if you visit in fog, which is often the case. You hike onto a peninsula narrow as a dragon's back and cross over a bridge with the primordial Pacific hissing on pocket beaches far below you. You continue to a rock wall that apparently blocks your further progress.
But wait! There is an iron door in the face of the cliff. Indeed, your progress may be blocked by this iron door, which is locked most of the time. You must check with Golden Gate NRA as to when the lighthouse is staffed and the door is open. (Generally weekends and Monday, from around 9-3, but don't take my word for it.)
Enter the tunnel. (Children love tunnels; feel free to tell them Chinese ghost stories at this point.) It was hand hewn by some of the very same Chinese laborers who did the tunnels for the transcontinental railroad in the 1860's. The tunnel is 119 feet long and straight as a string, so the children will see the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel.
When you exit the tunnel, you will find a most unexpected sight; a model Golden Gate suspension bridge.
It looks old and worn, the grandfather of all suspension bridges. On the contrary, it is only 45 years old, having been built back in 1954 to span a vanished section of the peninsula that crashed into the sea in the 1950's . (It must have been disconcerting to the lighthouse keeper to find one morning that Point Bonita Lighthouse was now Bonita Island.)
Metal and sea spray do not mix. Hence the rapid aging of the bridge. You will find an NPS volunteer stationed at each end of the bridge. They are there to answer questions, but more importantly to see that only two people are crossing the bridge at any given time.
Now it has not been calculated just how much corrosion plus just how much pedestrian weight would send the bridge and its human cargo into the raging Pacific below, but clearly, two is far better than say, a school bus load.
To be extra helpful (and to encourage the drama) tell the children to take a deep breath and hold it as they crossed the bridge so as to make themselves lighter and less likely to bring the bridge crashing down into the sea. (Your job as an adult is to make life interesting for children.)
Your goal, The Light House at the End of the World, Point Bonita Light, is at the far end of the bridge.
It is a squat little building. (Doesn't have to be tall, as it is already on cliff more than a hundred feet above the sea.) Nestled up against the lighthouse right at the edge of the cliff is a neat little red tiled roofed building, which I assumed was the Keeper's home and which would have been one of the most spectacularly romantic addresses on earth. This was not the case. According to one of the volunteers (Do not fail to make use of their expertise; they are very well trained and quite knowledgeable, and do not fail to thank them for volunteering.) the building was never used for human habitation but rather to house the boilers for the steam driven fog horn, which made the classic "BEE-OH!" sound, which always triggers in People of a Certain Age, memories of the Life Buoy Soap radio commercial.
The small rooms on the first floor of the lighthouse have been fitted out as a very informative museum on the history of Point Bonita Light and some of the wrecks that occurred at or near the point. (Your editor recalls heroically participating in the rescue -- some would call it looting -- of a barge load of beer that came ashore on the Point Bonita rocks after a tow cable had parted.)
The second floor, where the light is kept, is off limits unless a ranger or volunteer is present.
The "Light" can be seen 22 miles out to sea and is produced by a surprisingly small electric light bulb that would not be too out of place in your home or garden patio. Back in the 19th century, the light would have come from a kerosene flame.
The "secret" of the 22-mile range is the Fresnell Lens, a gem of ground glass that magnifies and projects the light.
This Fresnel lens was installed in 1855 and is still doing its job night after night for more than a century and a half and still going strong; a model bureaucrat..
Back at the trailhead, we get back in the car and before we have driven very far we look into a little valley and see distinctive architecture that any US military veteran can instantly identify--army barracks.
You are looking at Fort Barry, once the home of the U.S. Coastal Artillery, now the home of the NPS and various other non-profit do-gooder organizations. One of them is the Marine Mammal Rehabilitation Center, which is located in an imposing structure here. The Center does just what it says, caring for various sea lions, seals, and sea elephants that have gotten into trouble, often due to unfortunate interaction to human presence.
(The Bay Area Humans make a darn good try at Commensalism; that is coexistence with other species and there have been some success stories; Elephant seals have began to repopulate their range, recovering from local extinction, sea lions with a sense of humor have taken over part of a marina in San Francisco, but the Pennepeds are still injured by boat propellers or blinded by chemical or oil spills. Your kid guides and yourselves with be fascinated.)
To determine the hours of Marine Mammal Center and the location of the "ghost forts", you should go the former Fort Barry Post Chapel, which is now the NPS visitor Center for the Marin Headlands. (You won't miss it, it's the off white wooden building with the steeple.)
The visitor center has a knowledgeable staff and a magnificent bookstore with far more than you need to know about the history and natural history of the San Francisco Bay Area. (A staff member can tell your boy leader how to get to "Pirate's Cove", not far away on the Coastal Trail. It is an Adventure scramble, but you can do it if properly lead by a 12 year old.)
The visitor center has guidebooks to the "ghost forts" that is, the remains of the immense concrete and steel gun emplacements and Nike guided missile sites that saved the Marin Headlands from the Japanese and the Russians and American developers.
The army, who had purchased the Marin Headlands in 1851, liked to keep the nature and exact locations of its installation "secret", so that meant the acquisition and de facto preservation of a great deal of "wild" land in the metropolitan area of San Francisco. (Indeed, should Peace ever break out, the US military owns a great deal of relatively undisturbed real estate throughout the United States that would make excellent parks or Wildlife refuges -- Eglin Air force base in Florida, one of the last primeval areas in the Florida panhandle and Fort Hunter-Leggett, a good example of Coast Range ecology in California, come to mind.)
The army, as de facto conservationists, kept the Marin Headlands "wild" and free of "developers" for more than a century.
However, thanks to the perfection of the Intercontinental Ballistic Missile, The Coastal Artillery forts and even the Nike anti-aircraft sites that succeeded them, were now totally obsolete.
This meant that the Army had some surplus land on its hands.
Now this was not some God awful surplus army camp on the freezing, windswept plains of Oklahoma.
Nope! If the Marin Headlands was not God's Country, then it was in the same zip code.
Now, as the Headlands had been government property since 1851, when the War Department had purchased the land, and had remained so for a hundred years, there were those who thought the land should remain in public but accessible ownership as state, local or even federal parkland.
Ah, but what do those silly environmental dreamers know!
Now neighbors, one of the glorious features of this Great Land of Ours, is that if you are a Very Important Person, you will, by definition, know other Very Important Persons, and collectively, you will Be Able to Get Things Done.
Enter from stage right, the "Developer" Thomas Frouge of Pittsburg, Pennsylvania.
Mr. Frouge had seen the Marin Headlands and he had a dream.
That dream was Marincello.
Marincello was going to be a planned community of 30,000 people, housed in 50 apartment towers and hundreds of individual homes. There would be green space, equestrian trails, and other amenities, as well as a shopping mall and a luxury hotel on the highest point of the Marin Headlands The spiritual needs of the community were also planned; churches, synagogues, temples, and, presumably, a mosque, were all to be housed on one square, called (rather optimistically) Brotherhood Square.
As villains go, Mr. Frouge was not a bad man. He wished to avoid the mistakes of the "ticky tacky" mass "development " that had occurred in other parts of the U.S. He was a genuinely sensitive soul who appreciated the beauty of the Marin Headlands. Moreover, he was not a bigot. Marincello would be integrated; the only color Mr. Frouge was interested in was the color of his customers' money. (At that time, the only fully integrated community in Marin County was that other gated community, San Quentin.)
Mr. Frouge, being a Very Important Person, formed an alliance with Gulf Oil (If you can't trust an American oil company, whom can you trust?) They purchased 2,000 acres of the Marin Headlands from a complacent and respectful owner. (Exit stage left, the gallant but ineffective proponents of a state park for the Headlands.)
Mr. Frouge and Gulf Oil ran a nearly flawless public relations campaign. They had come to the Marin Headlands not to rape its beauty, but to provide a Living Demonstration how sensitive "development" could actually "enhance" a natural area. Marincello would be a model for sensitive "development" throughout the West if not the entire United States.
The local newspapers ate this stuff up; one editorialist writing that "Marincello will be a showcase that will point the way to preservation of the clear and open areas essential and unique in Marin County."
In 1965, the County officially approved the Marincello Project. Bulldozers gouged out a series of dirt roads and stucco Spanish hacienda style gate was erected in Tennessee Valley, announcing that one was entering Marincello.
There was every possibility that Marincello would grow into a metropolis that would rival San Francisco.
So what happened? How come the public won and the bad guys lost?
As this doesn't happen very often in Environmental history, it is worth checking out.
As is usually the case, it was a combination of luck and courageous perseverance on the part of the Good Guys.
First the luck part: Americans are a litigious bunch. There was a small group of property owners (about ten houses) on a quiet street just outside the Marincello boundary. It had the advantage of feeding into Highway 101 and San Francisco. That quiet street was going to be the main outlet for the commuters of Marincello. The property owners realized they would be on the banks of a steel river flowing pretty much 24/7.
Needless to say, they sued. An injunction was issued in favor of the homeowners.
Class action lawsuits make big corporations nervous.
In addition, the budget, optimistic as they always are, began to spiral far, far pass the original 250 million dollars, causing some of the Gulf Oil people to wonder out loud that maybe God wanted them to sell gasoline rather than houses.
Mr. Frouge realized that speed was of the essence. The longer all that beautiful land sat around "undeveloped", the more likely the environmentalists would be able to mass their forces. Frouge needed a fait accompli. Roads, street signs, houses, Little League ballparks, housewives chattering in the mall, and so on.
Perhaps if things could be speeded up! Permits obtained more "efficiently", all in a good cause! If we could just get the Project rolling!
Fortunately for the Environment, three very bright lawyers, Marty Rosen, Doug Ferguson, and Bob Praetzel were observing the Marincello Project with raptor eyes. Bob Praetzel was spearheading the attack and Praetzel's work would lead to several landmark decisions in environmental law.
Finally, they pounced. They discovered that the Marincello people had shortened the required time for public comment on the project. This discovery lead to other discoveries, none of a criminal nature, but rather of an effort to deliberately short cut the vetting process.
In 1970, the court ruled that the entire Marincello Project was improperly zoned and they would have to start the permitting process over from scratch! (One can imagine the panic among the Gulf Oil accountants!)
The final blow came shortly after the court ruling, when Marin County Board of Supervisors stated that they could no longer support the Marincello Project.
Gulf Oil was now stuck with 2,000 acres of beautiful land that it couldn't eat, drink, or drill.
So what to do?
In the late 1960'sThe National Park Service had a very scattered stake in the San Francisco Bay area in the form of Muir Woods NHS and Point Reyes National Seashore. There were those who suggested that the NPS might make several other modest acquisitions by accepting the transfer of Alcatraz from the Federal Bureau of Prisons and the Presidio from the US Army into a relatively small park that would be called Golden Gate National Recreation Area.
There were others that were far more visionary, who agreed with the premise "Make no small plans, for small plans do not stir the hearts of men"
Here was potential to make the incipient Golden Gate NRA one of the greatest urban parks on the planet.
Huey Johnson, Western Director of the Nature Conservancy, a non-profit organization that acquires environmentally sensitive land, was a maker of Big Plans.
Johnson agreed that the Marin Headlands would be a star property of an expanded Golden Gate NRA. He approached Gulf Oil and they were glad to sell the property for 6.5 million dollars. The Nature Conservancy then transferred the property to Golden Gate National Recreation Area.
Exit Gulf Oil and Thomas Frouge, stage right.
So what is the significance of the Marin Headlands in Environmental History?
Nearly as important as Yellowstone itself, neighbors.
Not only are the Headlands the crown jewel in the GOGA diadem, they proved that relatively "wild" parks could be formed in an urban setting, and that powerful "developers" could be defeated.
In addition, the Headlands Preservation unleashed an entirely new force.
The Three Musketeers of Headlands Preservation, Martin Rosen, Huey Johnson, and Doug Ferguson found that they had learned so much, (And had so much fun!) that it would be a pity not to use their expertise to save other pieces of the environment.
So they founded the Trust for Public Land (TPL) a non-profit organization that acquires land for public use.
So how does TPL differ from the Nature Conservancy?
According to Martin Rosen;
"We complement the work of the Nature Conservancy in that unlike the Conservancy, we will buy desperately needed land for parks in the Inner City or critical access to beaches or recreation areas as well as the more traditional wild land."
So far, the Trust for Public Land has purchased more than 2 million acres of land for the people from New York City to the mountains of Hawaii.
The plucky Mr. Rosen even went up against the Southeast Regional Office of the NPS who saw no need for land to be acquired for a national historic site commemorating Dr. Martin Luther King in downtown Atlanta, Georgia. Fortunately, Rosen prevailed and property was acquired for Martin Luther King National Historic Site.
So, while Marin Headlands may not erupt or thunder with waterfalls, it has provided America with an inspiring chapter in preservation history.
DON UTTERBACK AND THE YOSEMITE DIRTBAG
Now neighbors, one of the hardest things about professional law enforcement is making judgment calls.
That is, when to enforce the law to its limit and when to cut some slack. The successful lawman or woman must walk a very thin line between ruthless enforcement and neglect of duty.
This is particularly true of the NPS Protection Ranger.
Although the National Parks do attract career criminals, notably gangs of car clouters , marijuana farmers, and dope peddlers, the bulk of the violators are not professional crooks who regard run ins with the law as a reasonable occupational hazard. Rather they are normally law abiding, middle class citizens who, for a variety of reasons, are undergoing an often-monumental lapse in good judgment.
This can be a dispute over a campsite, or the theft of petrified wood, the length of a fish or the philosophical question of "How drunk is really drunk."
This does not mean that it is not serious; that our middle class, normally law abiding perp cannot harm himself, his neighbor, the park resource, or the park ranger.
This is where the Protection Ranger's judgment comes into play; when to come down hard and when to use other approaches.
Recently, your editor was contacted by a New England maple syrup farmer, a type of person you don't meet every day. The farmer, a Mr. Tom McCrumm wanted my help in finding retired park ranger Don Utterback.
Mr. McCrumm wanted to commend Ranger Utterback for his professionalism in dealing with Mr. McCrumm in the Yosemite Valley of the 1970's.
You see, before Mr. McCrumm became a maple syrup farmer and a staid 65-year-old conservative pillar of his community, Tom McCrumm had been a Yosemite Dirt Bag.
According to Mr. McCrumm's note to THUNDERBEAR:
"I've tried a number of times over the years to find Don, but never with any luck.Well now, neighbors! The good that you do as a park ranger can live on 40 years and more! (The prescient Ranger Utterback probably spotted McCrumm as a future maple syrup farmer!)Although our paths crossed only briefly, he was very kind to me. At the time, I was just another hippie dirt bag rock climber living Yosemite Valley, spring, 1970 (before the "riot") and no doubt only a few years younger than Don. Camp 4 was closed that spring, and we were camped in another campground, and someone raided our campsite and stole a bunch of stuff. Don was the person who took my report. He went out of his way for me a couple of times and I never forgot it.
At one time during a boisterous May, 1970 weekend party fueled by too many recreational intoxicants, the rangers came to bust it up. It wasn't a particularly pretty scene as you can imagine. Don saw me there and said "Tom, you'd best just leave now".
I did, then it got messy. He just as well could have busted me along with everyone else, but he didn't. He earned a lot of respect from me at that point , and I never forgot it. A number of years later, I looked him up one fall at the Ozark Scenic River, when I was on my way back east from Yosemite. He took the afternoon off and gave me a tour of the river in his boat. For years since then I've always wondered what happened to him. He was a very kind soul, and obviously treated people fairly as a law enforcement ranger...I hope I can find Don again, if just to say hello and thank him for being nice to me almost 40 years ago."
As luck would have it, Utterback and your kindly editor had attended the same Albright Academy Class and I was able to successfully point Mr. McCrumm toward a happy reunion with the now retired Ranger Utterback.
This reminded me of my favorite Utterback story. During the chaotic summer of 1970 in Yosemite, I was working with Utterback in the Valley. We had just contacted a "countercultural female" who was making trouble. When asked for ID, she complied, but went into a tirade about "When the Revolution comes, young people like herself would take charge and we dinosaurs would be no more" (or profane words to that effect).
Don looked at her drivers license and said in his Tennesee drawl "Well ma'am, you had better start revolvin' pretty soon, as accordin' to this license, you're 41 years old!"
As I recall, this was too much for the aging hippie and we eventually had to book her for assaulting a federal officer.
FAN MAIL
| Dear Mr. Ryan,
What the hell? I've been a dutiful employee of the NPS for a year and a half now and I was never once told of the existence of THUNDERBEAR. My mailbox at home is sometimes graced with THE ARROWHEAD my mailbox at work is more commonly stuffed with the likes of COMMON GROUND and my inbox is deluged with a myriad of stimulating Intermountain Region feel-good propaganda blogs. ButÉI have to go home and type in "Where is Edward Abbey Buried" into Google before I find your newsletter, which (If the ones I've read are any indication) give me a much better idea of what's going on in the system than I get from any other source. Is not telling new people about Thunderbear and letting them find it on their own another classic example of NPS hazing , or is it kept secret due to that NPS bureaucratic self-preservation thing that's going on? Just wondering. Regards, Devoted Reader |
Dear Devoted,
Well now! You've raised a number of interesting questions that I am afraid you kindly editor cannot answer. I long ago gave up on trying to figure out why the NPS does or does not do something. It is better that way. If the officers and men of the Light Brigade had started wondering "Why?" just before their famous charge, they would not have made it into Tennyson's poem.
I am curious about locating THUNDERBEAR by googling up "Where is Edward Abbey Buried?" Now that is interesting!
Since you are a junior member of Steve Mather's large, happy family, you have probably been given a number of "developmental" tasks that no one else prefers to do. One would be heading up the employee savings bond drive, (Can't help you with that one) or more likely, you have been asked to become the district or park Safety Officer.
Here we can help you! Each issue of THUNDERBEAR has a SAFETY MESSAGE placed somewhere in the issue. (As there is no table of contents, the Park Employee must wade through the entire issue, including the unavoidable anti-administration comments and articles in order to reach the platinum and gold of the SAFETY MESSAGE.)
Safety, as you know, is the Holy Grail of the NPS. No one can or will punish you for searching for safety information as long as you so say. It is sort of like holding up a crucifix before a vampire.
That said, we will now segue into this issue's safety message.
THE SAFETY MESSAGE
One of the most "white knuckle" events in highway driving is the "liquid white out".
"Liquid white out" occurs when rainfall is so intense that it overcomes the windshield wipers ability to remove it, even at the most rapid setting.
The driver's vision is limited to the glow of the tail lights ahead of him. He cannot see the shoulders of the road, and depth perception begins to fail, he has no horizon other than the tail light glow. The driver dares not pull over and stop on the shoulder as he cannot see the shoulder and he knows that the driver behind him will follow and will rear end him when he stops.
So our driver puts his lights on "flasher" mode, watches the taillights ahead of him and hopes for the best.
Normally, these deluges are over in a few minutes. On the other hand, you might have my bad luck and be caught in a line squall that was moving in exactly the same direction and at exactly the same speed as I was going. That one lasted the better part of a white-knuckle hour.
Retired park ranger Bob Marriot has come up with a trick that just might defeat the liquid whiteout.
GOOD VISION IN A DOWNPOUR
How to achieve good vision while driving during a heavy downpour? We are not sure why it is so effective; just try this method when it rains heavily. A police friend who had experienced and confirmed it told the method to me. It is usefulÉeven driving at night.
Most of the motorists would turn on HIGH or FASTEST speed of the wipers during heavy downpour, yet the visibility in front to the windscreen is still bad.
In the event you face such a situation, just try your SUN GLASSES (Any model will do.) and, miracle! All of a sudden, your visibility in front of your windscreen is perfectly clear, as if there is no rain. Amazing! You can still see the drops on the windshield, but not the sheet of rain falling. You can see where the rain bounces off the road. It works to eliminate the "blindness" from passing semi's spraying you or the "kick up" if you are following a semi or a car in the rain.
Make sure you always have a pair of sun glasses in your car as you are not only helping yourself to drive safely with good vision, but also might save your friends life by giving him this idea.
MY APOLOGIES
Bill Laitner, former superintendent of Olympic, and others have reminded me that it has been a long drink between issues #281 and the present issue # 282.I regret that there has been what we bureaucrats called "Intervening variables" that delayed publication of issue #282.
As my New Years Resolution, I promise to bring out the Bear on a timely, bi-monthly basis.
Sincerely
The Christian Bureaucrat