THUNDERBEAR® #289
THE OLDEST ALTERNATIVE NEWSLETTER IN THE FEDERAL GOVERNMENT

September-October, 2011


MAINE WOODS NATIONAL PARK

Thunderbear.Bismarck famously observed, "People with weak stomachs should not be involved in the making of sausages or politics."

The same might be said of the making of national parks. It is seldom pleasant or easy. One would think that all would rejoice at the establishment of a national park that would preserve nature and give joy to millions down through the years. Who but a total curmudgeon could object to the creation of a park?

Well neighbors, you will be amazed at how many curmudgeons call the USA home.

Even when the land in question is already federally owned and the innocent civilian taxpayer might be excused for thinking a park would be a slam-dunk; some friendly bureaucrats get together, shuffle some papers and shake hands. This is not the case. Federal agencies are as territorial as wolves on steroids and, unlike wolves, each agency has it own special clientele. Neither the US Forest Service, the Bureau of Land Management, nor the Fish & Wildlife Service wishes to grow smaller.

The National Park Service has been able to maintain a hammerlock on the term "National Park." Not so with the designation "National Monument," where the copyright seems to have expired for the NPS and recent big "national monuments" established on US Forest Service and BLM land have generally remained firmly in the control of those agencies.

However, when the land for a proposed national park is private, all bets are off and it's Katie bar the door! Now private property, particularly real estate, is sacrosanct in these United States and the modern NPS would not dream of seizing private land through condemnation proceedings.

The mere whiff of a rumor that a national park is to be carved out of private land sends the Tea Party Types and the Ayn Rand fanatics into raging hysteria. The image of "jack booted federal thugs" is immediately conjured up. (What, exactly is a "jack boot" and does modern NPS ever wear them? Just asking!)

Take for example, the proposed "Maine Woods National Park" Who proposed it? Certainly not the National Park Service; too controversial! Why would it be controversial? Because it would involve the "taking" of private land.

But what if the private land was not taken, what if it was purchased from willing sellers by a public-spirited philanthropist who would like to donate a national park to the American people?

Now why would anybody do a damnfool thing like that? Must be a communist, or a hippie or one of them Trust Fund queers usin' other people's money to fund socialism; can't be too careful, 'ticularly when yer ignorant.

As it turns out, one Roxanne Quimby, a long time Maine resident, was a successful environmental capitalist. She built her very own log cabin in the Maine Woods, complete with outhouse and met a bee keeper named Bert Shavitz of "Bert's Bees" fame. They decided to join forces in the bee business.

Now in addition to pollination and honey, bees are good at making beeswax. What to do with the beeswax?

Why, make it into scented candles and cosmetics and sell them! Ms Quimby, an optimistic soul, was an excellent saleslady. In no time she accumulated piles of dollars, almost to the extent of being a tripping hazard, sold her candle and cosmetic business for $350 million and retired (We may have to introduce Roxanne to Michelle Bachmann; if Michelle sells candles and cosmetics door to door she'll have enough money for her bridge in no time!)

So what to do? Ms Quimby is a comparatively young woman with time and money on her hands. Now if Roxanne Quimby were one of the Koch Family, she might instinctively know what to do: Fund vicious right wing causes and candidates and make poor people even more miserable.

Fortunately, Ms Quimby is not that kind of rich person. Indeed, she seems to eschew even the more harmless hobbies of the super rich. She does not seem to want a yacht parked in the Mediterranean, a mansion in the Hamptons of Long island, a horse farm in Virginia, a private island in the Caribbean or even a Ted Turner style ranch in Montana (My choice, neighbors.).

Instead, all she wants to do is hike and canoe in her beloved Maine.

Now, while the Republican philosopher, Karl Rove might characterize hiking and canoeing as "elitist," the truth is they don't cost much money. Indeed if Ms Quimby were to splurge on handmade Swiss hiking boots and a state of the art Kevlar or graphite canoe and paddles, plus tent and backpack, it would make only the tiniest dent in her fortune. Indeed, with a little planning and maybe a one time loan with their credit union, the average Maine wood products worker could purchase and use the same "elitist" outdoor equipment that Roxanne Quimby uses. (Sadly, like Roxanne, our salt of the earth wood product worker would have to forego the purchase of the latest model snowmobile to be able to afford the "elitist" outdoor gear, ah well! Into every life a little rain must fall!)

Now the interesting thing is that Ms Quimby would like to take the rest of us hiking, canoeing and snowshoeing in Maine. To facilitate the fun, Roxanne would like to buy us a National Park. Indeed, she has already done so, she has purchased some 70,000 acres of Maine North woods Timber land and stands ready to donate the land to the American people in perpetuity as Maine Woods National Park (The modest Ms Quimby decided to forego the naming example of Governor Percival Baxter who donated the land for the adjacent 200,000 Baxter State Park.)

In addition, Roxanne plans an endowment for the new national park that would make it mostly self supporting (something of a "first" for a national park!). The park would be nearly 2 times the size of Maine's only national park, Acadia.

Glory Hallelujah! An easy slam dunk, win-win, everybody happy, bipartisan victory for the environment and the American people! Barack Obama and Secretary of the Interior Salazar joins the Republican governor of Maine and the Republican Maine Congressional delegation in thanking Ms Quimby (and her bees) for the donation of an outstanding national park that will fill a missing ecological niche in the fabric of the National Park System.

The modest Ms Quimby then delivers an "Aw shucks! Twarn"t nothin'!" speech stating that she was only fulfilling the dream of America's great philosopher and environmentalist, Henry David Thoreau, who first proposed a Maine Woods National Park twenty years before Yellowstone NP, stating "Why should we not have our national preserves where the bear and the panther still exist and not be civilized off the face of the earth?"

Why not indeed! And thank you, Ms Quimby!

Unfortunately, the above scene does not appear likely in the immediate future. Sorry 'bout that!

"Why the hell not?" You ask with mixed incredulity and indignation. "It's the deal of a lifetime; the gift of a national park at no cost to the taxpayer AND an endowment to support the park AND an additional 30,000 acres to be used for non- park appropriate recreation. Who could POSSIBLY object?

Thunderbear.Well neighbors, for the short answer we have to refer to Ambrose Bierce and his Devil's Dictionary:

"IDIOT n. A member of a large and powerful tribe whose influence in human affairs has always been dominant and controlling. The idiot's activity is not confined to any special field, thought or action, but pervades and regulates the whole. He has the last word on everything: His decision is unappeasable..."

While the above may describe a large portion of the Tea Party electorate and a sizable portion of the Republican Presidential candidates, it is an unfair characterization of the flinty working people of Northern Maine.

We will have to go for the long answer, which is more complex and more nuanced, but also more fair.

Briefly, it's this way.

Unlike the West, there are no national forests in Maine. There are, however, huge tracts of forestland, all privately owned, with the exception of Baxter State Park. Many of these private forests dwarf the fabled ranches of Texas or Montana in acreage. The owners, usually corporations, but some family owned, keep a low profile. Hollywood and TV do not make movies or serials about them. The forest owners, almost to a man, are conservative Republicans, but, interestingly enough, so are the workers.

The result is a semi-feudal lifestyle that is virtually unique to Northern Maine. The owners, lumber barons, if you will, provide well paying, but dangerous seasonal work in harvesting "forest products" and processing them in associated mills (mainly pulp).

In addition, the lumber barons wisely allow their workers unfettered access to their forests to hunt, fish, and trap. Hunting is as much subsistence as sport and a family's winter protein intake is significantly dependent on family members filling their deer or moose permits.

The Maine Forest Worker would characterize himself as a "practical outdoorsman" and sees the snowmobile as a rather obvious alternative to cross country skis or snowshoes, which are used, only by "outsiders," environmentalists and other fools. The snowmobiles travel on the logging roads which are groomed and maintained by various snowmobiling clubs; an activity that the lumber barons encourage to build community support.

In return for all this largess, the timber barons ask only that the workers be careful with fire, not damage merchantable trees, and continue to vote right and think right, which is to maintain the status quo.

This the Maine workers do with enthusiasm; electing a century and more of conservative politicians who did not always have their interests at heart. America in general and Maine in particular has about the only English-speaking work force that votes this way. Australians, New Zealanders and Brits are often dismayed at these electoral demographics.

Why this is the case is explained by Joe Bageant in his book DEER HUNTING WITH JESUS: DISPATCHES FROM AMERICA'S CLASS WAR, in which Bageant explains how liberals and environmentalists have lost the support of poor rural Whites. Although set in Appalachian Virginia, Bageant's book is applicable to Northern Maine.

The results are impressive: for more than a hundred years, the feudal coalition of forest owners and forest workers have managed to keep the famously permissive, multiple abuse prone U.S. Forest Service out of Maine: Even Texas and Mississippi have National Forests, but not Maine.

If the all-things-to-all-people Forest Service could not gain a foothold in the Maine North Woods what chance would the far more restrictive National Park Service have with a national park? The answer would be slim to none. (The beautiful but small Acadia National Park is located on two islands off the coast of Maine and is not in the Maine North Woods. Moreover, Acadia park land was purchased from or was donated by wealthy summer residents such as John D. Rockefeller Jr. who used the land as summer home recreation and thus were more amenable to the idea of a park.)

The opposition to a Maine Woods National Park is well organized and deep. It is economic, philosophical and aesthetic. Some reasons are valid, some are not. Here are a few:

  1. "We don't much like the federal government around these parts."

    Maine is a very conservative Republican state. Some "Outsider" supporters of a Maine Woods National Park have innocently suggested that Baxter State Park (200,000 acres) could be combined with Roxanne Quimby's 70,000 acres to make a truly great National Park. They didn't reckon on the quirky Governor Percival J. Baxter. Governor Baxter hated two things: the Ku Klux Klan and the Federal Government. He was able to crush the KKK in Maine and insert a clause in the enabling legislation of Baxter State Park forbidding Baxter State Park from ever becoming a national park or becoming part of a national park.

  2. "What we do has worked for us, so why change?"

    There is nothing like the devil you know vs. the unknown, to promote resistance to change. People got used to the boom and bust cycle of the timber and pulp industry. The timber industry provided not only jobs but also land to hunt and recreate on, and besides, private property is the American Way. The problem is that is that unforeseen circumstances may force changes that neither the forest owners nor the forest workers can control.

  3. "Hunting would not be allowed in the national park: Hunting is a religion in Maine."

    That is correct. Hunting would not be allowed in the National Park proper, but hunting would be allowed in the 30,000 acre preserve that Ms Quimby plans to adjoin the National Park as the "Preserve" part of Maine Woods National Park & Preserve.

  4. "Snowmobiling and ATV travel will be forbidden in the park. Snowmobiling and ATV use are the second religion of Maine."

    If the NPS has any intestinal fortitude, snowmobiling and ATV travel will be banned in the park, based on decades of negative experience in Yellowstone and Big Cypress. Ms Quimby may put steel in the NPS spine by insisting on no snowmobiles or ATV's as part of the enabling legislation. Snow machines and ATV's will be allowed in the Preserve, with quotas and other restrictions.

  5. " There will be no logging or other forest products jobs permitted in the park. Without jobs how will we support our families?'

    Based on over a hundred years experience in scores of national and state parks, the park will generate new jobs and income in the area. The National Park "brand" is something you can literally take to the bank. Texas, a state not known for radical ideas or politics, used public donations and state money to purchase private ranch land and then proudly donated the resulting Big Bend National Park to the American people. Now some Texans wanted to preserve the beauty of the Chihuahuan desert ecosystem, but other Texans saw a lucrative tourist attraction: Both were correct.

    Some of these jobs will require re-training, but Ms Quimby is amenable to creative solutions in this matter. It is true that the park-associated jobs will pay somewhat less per hour than unionized wood product labor, but the work will be more steady (Besides, unions are sinful and socialistic, just ask WALMART.)

  6. "But the Maine logging lifestyle is our heritage! It's a way of life passed from father to son down through the generations for 200 years! My father was on the last log drive down the Kennebec River in 1976 before you damn environmentalists put an end to the river drives. Why can't you meddling outsiders just leave us alone?"

    Of all the objections to a Maine Woods National Park, loss of life style is the most poignant (and effective). Consider if you will, your own situation if Congress decided that the NPS and the park ranger life style were redundant to the needs of the American taxpayer and that you would be terminated after your next pay period. You would feel sad. (This is not an entirely hypothetical possibility, neighbors!)

HOWEVER, environmentalists are not the problem. The Maine Wood Products industry has not run smack dab into Henry David Thoreau, or John Muir or even Roxanne Quimby. Rather the logging industry has collided with the classical economist, Adam Smith.

You see, unlike Roxanne Quimby's candles and cosmetics, no one wants to buy Maine's wood products. This is Adam Smith's Law of Supply and Demand. Why is this the case? Well, they are too expensive. Yes, but why are they too expensive? A variety of reasons, neighbors, and reasonably cheap Canadian timber in the form of beetle killed trees that need to be logged and then there are the subsidized US Forest Service and BLM timber sales that are below cost. (Adam Smith warns us against "The King's Friends" that is government monopolies or subsidies that mask the true costs of inefficient industries.)

Then there is the problem that paper is not as popular as it once was. Major newspapers and magazines are failing all over the country, lessening the demand for newsprint. Computers have not made us a "Paperless society" quite as soon as Bill Gates predicted, but we are well on the way. This bodes ill for the Maine Wood Products industry.

While the causes are multiple, the results are the same. The vast private timberlands of Maine are not as valuable to corporations as they once were and long-term future prospects are not bright.

Corporations are not sentimental. Having done something for 125 years doesn't mean you should continue doing it if you are only breaking even or worse. Better sell the land and invest in something more profitable.

This has set vast blocs of real estate in motion; a situation not seen since the collapse of the Hawaiian sugar industry in the 1970's: Indeed, 10 million acres of Maine timberland are potentially involved, a transfer of land that has not happened since the railroad land grants of the 19th century.

This is both good and bad.

Good in the sense that for the first time since Henry David Thoreau first proposed it before the Civil War, a substantial Maine Woods National Park is actually a possibility.

One group "RESTORE" has proposed a 3.2 million acre National Park and Preserve which would be larger than Yellowstone and Yosemite combined, the largest park in the lower 48; it would surround Ms Quimby's donation as well as Baxter State Park (which would remain independent as per the wishes of Governor Baxter.

How much would it cost? One estimate is a billion dollars (About two weeks of the costs of the Iraqi and Afghan experiments.) Admittedly, that is quite a bit of money, but fortunately the Park Service through the magic of Congressional boondoggles has plenty of money. All that is necessary is that "Green Scissors" be applied to the more egregious boondoggles and we will soon have our purchase price.

What boondoggle? Well, let's try the filling in of the channel between West Ship Island and East Ship Island in Gulf Islands National Seashore at a cost of $300 million for example:

You will recall that God decided that He would like two islands instead of one and did one of his familiar "Acts of God"; in this case, a hurricane. The hurricane duly divided Ship Island in half. However, the NPS noted that God had not filed an EIS and decided to spend $300 million to fill in the channel and make Ship Island whole again (The Park Service has to frequently second guess God, who may be getting senile.)

Now it has been some time since I last visited Ship Island, but as I recall, there was no pressing need to visit the east end of Ship Island. All the action; the historic fort, the swimming beach, and the beer, were located on the Western end of the island. The eastern end of the island was a quasi-wilderness experience of sand, sea, and sky. It strikes us that rather than fill in God's channel, the NPS could make the visit to East Ship Island a memorable event by providing a concessioner operated ferry between the two islands.

The $300 million dollars could be used to purchase land for a Maine Woods National Park and Preserve, particularly, the Preserve part. This has the advantage of being a permanent one-time deal as opposed to the distinct possibility that God might prove stubborn about His channel and send another hurricane.

We had mentioned the bad as well as the good in the possible transfer of ownership in the big timberlands.

The "bad" is that your new landlord might not be as benign as you had hoped. Many countries have restrictions and even prohibitions on foreigners owning land. The United States is not one of them; Foreign Devils, bless their hearts, can own as much of America as they can purchase.

You will recall that here in the 21st century, just about the only folks with ready spending money are the Red Chinese. As good capitalists they will be looking for a safe place to invest their money. Now we are not suggesting that the Mainers will be looking at "Welcome to Mao Tse Dong Land and Timber Company. Please extinguish your campfire and Mao's friends don't play with matches!" No, I believe the Chinese will be sensitive enough to call it "The Henry David Thoreau Land and Timber Company. Hopefully, the Chinese would be wise enough not to antagonize the Maine locals by charging for recreational access.

Hopefully.

For example Ted Turner is willing enough to allow you to take a trail ride for a week on one of his Western ranches. It will, however, cost you upwards of $3,500 per person, but you have the chance of meeting Ted on the trail and talking with him (No elitist, he!) Sadly enough, you will not meet Jane; she has gone the way of all movie stars.

Actually, one of the biggest threats to the Maine Woods lifestyle would be the fragmentation of the great timber holdings. The timber tracts could be purchased by "developers" and broken up into those 5 acre "ranchettes" that are the bane of the environment with myriad roads and the inevitable leaking septic tank into the lake. People who buy this sort of "recreational property" don't want uncouth locals trespassing with snowmobiles or ATV, or shooting off rifles.

Although, Quimby has exhibited the diplomacy of a Gandhi and the patience of a Mandela in her quest for a Maine Woods National Park, that cannot be said for the locals who oppose her plan.

A member of the town council of Millinocket, a mill town with 22% unemployment BEFORE Roxanne arrived on the scene, snarls, "We have the American Way and Democracy and yet one person with deep pockets and tunnel vision is forcing her will on the masses. That is not democracy, that is dictatorship."

Not quite, Mr. Councilman! Ms Quimby's 70,000 acres is her private property and in our system of governance, if she chooses, no one could visit her property unless they slathered themselves with her cosmetics and carried one of her beeswax candles. But she does not so choose. She invites all non-destructive people to visit. What she does with property is her own damn business (unless of course, you have some Communist leanings we don't know about, such as that Commie jargon about "forcing her will on the Masses").

Now do the locals have any solution for the economic problems of Maine? Something that would substitute for a national park? Well yes, and one solution IS both sad and bizarre. According to Quimby, one school district is so close to losing its high school, that they proposed bringing in Chinese high school students to attend the local high school at a tuition fee of $35,000 per student. (Maine rural high schools are not known for being hot beds of intellectual achievement, but Chinese parents are interested in English proficiency.) The school board had hoped to obtain 35 Chinese students, but only 9 have signed up.

I reckon that the Maine Woods National Park would be the better economic bet.

Indeed, Adam Smith, Roxanne Quimby, and Henry David Thoreau, make a great team!


THE MOST MYSTERIOUS NATIONAL PARK, PART III

In which we conclude our sea-kayaking visit to the Santa Cruz unit of America's most mysterious national park, Channel Islands.

We carried our kayaks down to the Scorpion Bay beach of Santa Cruz Island on a bright April day. Everything glistened, gleamed and glittered in the newness of the spring season.

According to our guide, Rob, April was a better month to paddle than June, as one avoided the Terror of the tourist, the June Gloom of the California coast. The June Gloom is a fairly simple weather phenomenon based on the fact that if you have a hot landmass in contact with a cold sea, you are going to get a fog belt stretching to eternity unless you turn inland. Indeed, Mark Twain once observed "The coldest winter I ever experienced was a summer in San Francisco!"

We reviewed safety procedures and paddle strokes and pushed off, experiencing that delicious momentary feeling of weightlessness that Joan calls "The poor man's space flight," that is one of the delights of kayaking.

There had been a storm the previous day and the sea was still breathing deeply with majestic swells, this would make sea caving somewhat problematical; water does not compress, but you do if you are confined in a sea cave when a big wave or giant swell sweeps in to fill the cave with rock devouring force. You do not want this to happen, it will spoil your day.

Like most park concessionaires, Rob was quite conscientious about safety, balancing conditions with the skill level of the participants. Being of a certain age and hoping to live to an uncertain age, I liked that.

We paddled along the coast, while Rob sprinted ahead to inspect various caves. He came back with the news that while several caves were inaccessible, the tide and swell were exactly right for Dogleg Cave. The name describes the cave; it has two entrances, a straight shot in and then an abrupt 90-degree turn and out the second entrance (or exit).

We positioned ourselves outside the entrance, waited for the correct size wave and followed Rob into the cave, rushed through a dripping black walled tunnel, avoiding some rocks, not avoiding others, carving out a sharp turn for the dog leg, grounding for a moment, till the next wave sent us out the exit. It was exhilarating.

Among the most famous sea caves in the world is Fingal's Cave on the uninhabited isle of Staffa in the Inner Hebrides Islands of Scotland. By Santa Cruz Island standards, Fingal's Cave is only middling in size, being only 279 feet long and 75 high. It had the good luck to inspire the composer, Felix Mendelssohn to write a symphony, Opus 26, after a visit to the cave in 1826. The cave itself is not a bad musician, producing acoustic echoes with tumbling rocks and water, to the extent that the Celtic name for Fingal's Cave is Uahm-Binn which translates as "Cave of Melody."

Another famous sea cave is the Blue Grotto on the Isle of Capri off the Italian coast, which has been packing in tourists since before the days of the Roman emperors. The attraction is not its size (196 feet by 66) but the refracted blue light coming from an under sea level opening (the sea water absorbs the red spectrum, producing the famous blue light.)

We continue along the cliffs, watching the sea win its slow motion battle with geology,

Rob stopped to introduce us to "The Redwoods of the sea," the giant California Sea Kelp. They appeared as a brown-green mat on the surface of the sea, with little bulb like growths protruding out of the water. These were the gas filled floats that kept the plant upright in the water. Giant Kelp is among the largest sea plants in the world (It is unfair to continue to call them seaweeds, as they are quite desirable plants. They are the cold-water analog to the tropical reef, providing shelter and food to many other marine organisms.

The Redwood analogy is apparent to a SCUBA diver. The kelp lifespan s only a small fraction of that of a Redwood, but like the Coast Redwood, it forms cathedral like groves with trunk- like "stipes: rising from root-like "holdfasts." The stipes have branch like fronds that, along with the stipe, handle the photosynthesis. A diver may wonder at will in the three dimensional green light of this forest. It has to be a remarkable experience; one of many in CHIS.

Naturally, it wouldn't be a modern forest if it weren't menaced by some threat.

Rob reeled in a floating Kelp stipe. When he got the "holdfast" out of the water, we could see that the bulbous holdfast was covered with predator purple sea urchins (Naturally, the sea urchin doesn't consider itself a predator any more than a Wall Street banker considers himself a predator; both the Purple sea urchin and the banker feel they are simply doing business.)

Normal numbers of Purple Sea Urchins are part of the ecology, but an explosion of them could menace the Kelp forest and attendant ecology, including the urchins.

Rob cited one experiment. Sea otters love urchins, so a bunch of them were otter napped, fitted with radio collars and released in the presumed otter and urchin paradise of the Santa Cruz Island kelp forest. The results were about the same as if somebody dumped you in Fargo, North Dakota. You would not be inclined to settle. Within a week or two, the researchers were getting radio signals from the otter homeland.

Turns out that the urchin problem was much more subtle and complex than just a lack of sea otters. After all, the sea otter had been virtually exterminated by fur hunters in the 18th and 19th centuries, but the kelp forests did just fine without them, thank you. Until now. Possibly it was something entirely different, over fishing or pollution that caused the urchins to thrive and the kelp to decline.

It i puzzles like this that makes CHIS such an interesting, mysterious place.

We paddled alongside Scorpion Rock, a gooseneck barnacle covered sea stack. Scorpion Rock's main claim to fame was a horizontal blowhole of considerable Force. One could play a sort of watery Russian roulette by paddling into the little alcove of the blowhole, betting on whether you would get a refreshing shower or a police water cannon blast. It was a great favorite among college students, according to Rob Fortunately; it has been a long time since we'd been to college so we could forego that experience.

Rob offered a "short cut" back to the beach by going around Scorpion Rock. By this time, our backs were beginning to kill us. We had only ourselves (and the outfitter) to blame. Never accept a kayak that does not have good back support. There is always a choice; you can simply go home. If you throw out your back, that might not be so easy.

So we accepted the "short cut." In my experience, there is always a reason why the "short cut" was not the accepted way to go: usually because it was straight up and down or involved a raging stream crossing, the possibility of rattlesnakes, or some other deterrent that kept the sensible on the straight and wide.

This "short cut" was made more interesting in that it was a sea path between the main island cliffs and the cliffs of Scorpion Rock, and a narrow path at that.

As mentioned, water does not compress, it just piles higher. In this case, the swell produced an enormous (to us) wave between Scorpion Rock and Santa Cruz.

"You don't have to do this," said Rob helpfully, "You can take the long way around."

My back was torturing me to the extent this was not a viable option.

Rob pointed out how it should go. "If you do it right, you can become airborne on the way through!" He enthused with the confidence and immortality of a twenty something Southern Californian.

"PJ, I'm not sure I can do this" Joan said in the level, measured tones of the Yale Ph.D. she is.

She didn't say she couldn't, she just said she wasn't sure. Not a bad observation.

To a 12-year-old Hawaiian surfer, it would have been a yawn, but to a couple of aging non-surfers, it was, as the Hawaiians say "an okole squeezer."

Rob went first, then the other member of our party.

"I think we can do it," I said.

"I believe we can." She replied.

I believe I saw a way through.

"Sprint when I tell you. Stop paddling when I tell you." I said. It was important not to let the wave get behind us and pitch pole the kayak.

We came through slightly airborne, at least Joan's bow portion, and came down with a satisfying BANG! Which brought an enthusiastic WOW! from Joan.

After doing The Elephant's Gut Cave (which was as interesting as it sounds) we headed for the beach and the end of the day. (Myself suffering a back spasm from lack of lumbar support and requiring a tow from the always enthusiastic Rob.)

It had been an interesting introduction to the cliffs and sea caves of Santa Cruz. The largest cave, Painted Cave, was in The Nature Conservancy portion of the Island and was a separate expedition, very dependent on weather and sea conditions.

The Nature Conservancy, sometimes referred to as "Big Green," is by far, the largest and most powerful of the private land conservation groups. Founded in 1951, it has come a long way.

It has programs and/or land holdings in all 50 states and in 30 countries, holding 17 million acres in the US and 117 million acres world wide with assets in the billions of dollars. It is closely related to the Environmental wing of the Republican Party (Yes, there is one!) sometimes referred to as "The Green Elephants." As a result it gets quite a bit of corporate and "Old Money" foundation money. As a private entity, TNC has a number of tactical and strategic advantages that the NPS does not possess.

For one thing, being private, TNC does not have to please taxpayers. You may not visit the TNC portion of Santa Cruz without the supervision of a TNC approved guide, and even then you are restricted to the Pelican Trail and must not deviate. (You may wander at will in the NPS section of the island, subject only to seasonal closures for nesting birds etc.) If you wish to land on the TNC portion, you must have a landing permit from TNC and you must arrive on your private yacht. ("Yacht" being any boat capable of crossing 25 miles of open ocean.) Public boats such as those of ISLAND PACKER are not permitted to land on the TNC property.

For another thing, TNC does not have to bother with politics. (At least external politics.) That is, TNC's scientists and administrators do not have to worry about being sound guessed by some ignorant greedhead like Congressman Rob Bishop (R-Utah) head of the House sub-committee on National Parks.

Finally TNC simply has more money than the NPS (at least the CHIS part of the NPS). Finances are much more flexible and spending is much more efficient. This is not the fault of CHIS or the rest of the NPS, simply the way the Government works. (All this private sector speed and flexibility has its shortcomings however; TNC was one of non profits burned by the Ponzi con man, Bernie Madoff.) This allows them to hire a first-rate staff and concentrate on science. They do not have to worry about visitor services, law enforcement, search & rescue etc.

What TNC does is Science and they do it well "We don't do 'pretty' we do science!" as one of their scientists explained a scenically challenged, but biologically important TNC holding.

Now the 800-pound gorilla in the Visitor Center is what does TNC plan to do with its holdings on Santa Cruz Island?

Santa Cruz Island is officially within the boundaries of Channel Island National Park, but 76% of the island is owned by TNC. Now many park units have private inholdings, but this has got to be one of the few park units where the private inholding is larger than the NPS holding.

Thunderbear.What does TNC plan to do?

Well, one can always ask. So we did. Now all three concerned entities, the NPS, TNC, and The Santa Cruz Island Foundation play their cards pretty close to the vest, so we really did not expect to get an answer.

And we did not get one.

(In all fairness, it is sort of like a reporter asking General Eisenhower on the eve of D-Day, "Well, Ike! Are you going to shoot straight across the Channel to Calais or are you going to try an end run in Normandy; which is it going to be?")

While the principals were not talking, and even Rob, our guide was agnostic on the subject, I did get an opinion from a loquacious deckhand on board the ISLAND PACKER. (Not a top rank source, true, but journalists and spies get most of their information from the unappreciated worker bees.)

According to the deckhand, TNC felt sorry for the impoverished NPS, sort of like a rich uncle wondering how he could help an indigent, but proud nephew, so TNC dribbled some land to the NPS, but not too much, only what they could manage with limited NPS funds and resources. Later, if the NPS proves worthy of TNC's trust, more land will be forthcoming, in digestible chunks, until all the land is in NPS hands. However, if the NPS proves negligent, then TNC will retain its holding indefinitely.

So that's one story. Is it true? Well neighbors, I don't know. That's why Channel Islands is the most mysterious of our National Parks. Wait till we get to Santa Rosa Island! That's a whole 'nother story!


MISTAKEN IDENTITY

Thunderbear.Many a Hollywood or television comedy has hinged on mistaken identity; that is, our hero or heroine is assumed to be someone with skills or assets he/she does not possess.

You know the plot: An effete Easterner gets off the train in a Western town and is mistaken for the expert gun fighter that the desperate townspeople have hired to rid themselves of an evil gang of outlaws, merely because he is wearing a hat with a rattlesnake hat band that he found on the train.

Or the pretty schoolteacher who innocently completes a stanza of poetry spoken to her on a transatlantic flight by a mysterious stranger who thus believes her to be a fellow secret agent and proceeds to involve her in all sorts of dangerous and romantic adventures.

Such plot contrivances do not happen in real life...or do they?

Indeed, except for a case of mistaken identity, we would not have had the pleasure of meeting Ed Olson.

It all began quite innocently.

Since my wife and I have not been blessed with children, we have decided to leave some of our rather modest earthly estate to the Trust for Public Land; one of those goody two shoes environmental outfits that preserve open space, sort of like The Nature Conservancy only a bit more democratic.

The Trust for Public Lands, in addition to purchasing critical wildlife habitat in remote places, has no qualms about purchasing derelict property in the "Inner Core" of our largest cities and turning them into parks and playgrounds.

Therefore, we alerted the folks at Trust For Public Land that they were going to be the prime heirs to our estate when the Great Bear calls us to the Big Visitor Center up yonder.

In return, we received a handsome form letter from TPL thanking us for our generosity.

And that, we thought, was that.

Some months later, it came time for our seasonal move to Hawaii.

Like all Northeastern states, Maryland has five months it doesn't need; November, December, January, February and March. It is not that it snows all that much; sometimes it does, but what is really soul destroying is the month long periods of unrelenting pewter gray skies, black ice wherever you step, and the bone piercing cold.

So, when the last "Knock Out" rose has bloomed in our garden and the last school bus yellow Oak or Tulip Poplar leaf has drifted down out of an impossibly blue October sky, we know its time to winter in Hawaii.

"Winter in Hawaii! How can a guvmint retiree afford to do that?" I can just imagine Senator Tom Coburn (R-OK) growling suspiciously.

Pretty easily, Senator Tom!

You just have to choose your home retirement city carefully. It has to be a city that attracts a constantly changing cast of nomadic, reasonably well off professionals that need a temporary place to stay while on an assignment or training program. The leafy suburbs of Washington DC, Boston, Chicago, Philadelphia, San Francisco, Seattle, or Atlanta come to mind. Avoid places like Bismarck, North Dakota, Detroit, or (Sorry, Senator Tom!) Tulsa or Oklahoma City, as retirement venues.

Why? Because you may want to rent your home for part of the year and go somewhere else. In our case, to Hawaii.

The rental of your home base dwelling will neatly cover the cost of renting an apartment, condo, or even a whole house. It's not rocket surgery, as former President Bush might say.

You see, due to overly optimistic developers and corrupt Wall Street financiers, Hawaii has been overbuilt. On top of the overbuilding, the normally reliable Japanese tourist influx was washed away by one of the great tragedies of our time, The Earthquake and Tsunami of 2011.

So, you will find a renter's market in Hawaii. They will be interested in you.

About your only unusual expense will be your airfare and (for most people) the necessity of buying a used car and reselling it when you return home, taking a small to medium loss on the transaction (unless you are a better used car salesman than I am). On the other hand, if you feel you can bicycle to the beach and grocery store, you are home free.

"But isn't Hawaii terribly expensive?" You ask.

Compared to Oklahoma? Well, yes, I suspect it is.

The average American tourists spend $146.00 a day in Hawaii; the average Japanese tourist spends $176 a day in Hawaii.

But you will not be a tourist. After the initial sticker shock at the supermarket and the $4.25 gasoline, you will learn what you really need and where to buy it. You will also know where to live.

The island of Kauai is the most beautiful. It is also the most expensive; being where many left wing movie stars have second homes. (Senator Coburn will REALLY become suspicious if he finds a government retiree is hanging out with the likes of Brad Pitt.)

The island of Oahu is the most crowded, including California caliber traffic during rush hour. It is also the only island that has full medical services. It is true that the other islands have hospitals, but for anything very complicated, you will be stabilized and airmailed to Honolulu. (As a retiree, you have now reached a stage in life where most medical adventures are going to be complicated, requiring procedures that in previous years were attempted only by Jesus Christ (i.e. raising you from the dead). Airlifting you from one of the other islands to Honolulu will not come cheap and your health insurance, including Medicare may not pay for it.

The least expensive (comparatively) island is the Big Island of Hawaii. That is, the non-touristy Hilo side of the Big Island is relatively cheap; the resort or Kona side of the Big Island is famously expensive.

The reason Hilo is reasonable is rainfall, which in Hilo is measured in feet rather than inches. There is nothing that discourages the average tourist than the prospect of endless, drizzling rain. This is why the Big Island resorts are located on the dry Kona side. The Kona side is basically a desert where the miracle of irrigation brings voluptuous tropical greenery to posh resorts located on the former clinkers of lava flows. (God needs an assist every now and then)

Fortunately, for you and I, the rain in Hilo falls often at night and usually in the form of short, sharp squalls. It is rare for it to rain all day and you can go for several days without rain and the skies are not cloudy all day.

Another reason for competitive rentals is that Hilo had bad luck with Tsunamis in 1946 and 1964. However, due to careful zoning and city planning and a crackerjack evacuation plan, the risk is (relatively speaking) minimal. Ironically, the Kona Coast suffered more from the 2011 Tsunami than did Hilo.

Then there are the Coqui frogs. These amazing and delightful little amphibians are God's main defense against developers on the Big Island.

Why? Because although they are tiny (about the size of a quarter) these Puerto Rican immigrants have a big voice, about 80 decibels in some locales.

As soon as the sun goes down, the Coquis, thousands of them, began to say the word "KO-KEE!" over and over again until sun up. It drives developers and realtors crazy. Most property that has a severe Coqui "infestation" declines in value. (How come we never hear about a developer infestation?)

One property owner stated that the Coqui noise was so loud that it drowned out the television and he was forced "To turn off the TV and read a book!" (The horror! The horror!)

As you may have guessed by now, I rather enjoy the sound of Coquis, whose massed choruses I find as soothing as the calls of spring peepers back East. The only disconcerting thing about the Coqui chorus is that roughly one out of a hundred Coquis is an individualist and does not say "KO---KEE!" but instead says "BO---PEEP!' I find myself listening for the "BO---PEEP!" rather like waiting for the other shoe to drop.

At any rate, when given lemons make lemonade; the little frogs keep the rent down.

We were in the habit of renting a small apartment in a condo on the edge of Hilo that fronts on the Pacific Ocean and is flanked on the right side by almost impenetrable tropical wilderness.

Now the reason for all this background is to point out that, as Sarah Palin would say "We're just plain folks" but unlike Sarah, we are not millionaires.

Despite being ordinary folk, we were about to enter the twilight zone of mistaken identity.

It began quite innocently. As we were taking a cheap flight to Hawaii, there would be a layover in Honolulu, leaving us nearly half a day on Oahu.

It is not nice to waste God's time and I had just read that TPL had purchased a vital tract of land for much needed trail outside Honolulu, so I e-mailed the TPL office stating that we were members and would like directions to the trail.

TPL promptly e-mailed me the requested trail description and directions-----and requested our flight number. Strange, I thought, but complied with the request.

Shortly after getting off the plane in Honolulu, we were greeted by one of those airport pager loudspeakers requesting "PJ RYAN TO MEET HIS PARTY AT THE VIP LOUNGE." Such requests are irresistible, even when one does not know what the hell is going on.

"Do we know anyone in Honolulu"? I inquired of Joan.

"No, but it looks like we're going to!" she replied.

So we obediently moseyed over to the VIP lounge and were greeted by what we were to learn was most of the TPL staff on Oahu. "WELCOME TO HAWAII!" they said in unison, draping that irresistible Hawaiian greeting, flower leis, around our astounded necks.

They announced that after collecting our bags, they were taking us to lunch and then one of the staff would guide us on the newly acquired trail, pointing out the plant and bird life that would now be available to the average citizenry, thanks to our generosity.

Over lunch, we were given an outline of TPL projects in Hawaii, with emphasis on those on the Big Island, sponsored or assisted by Ed Olson.

We hiked a portion of the newly acquired trail, guided by an enthusiastic staff member who praised us effusively for helping to preserve Hawaii. We were told how much we were going to like meeting Ed Olson, a fellow benefactor of the people and environment of Hawaii.

Meet this Olson fellow? How would that happen? Who was Ed Olson?

No problem! TPL had already contacted Olson's people and a car and driver would pick us up at the Hilo Airport on the Big Island!

Oh, OK!

On the flight over from Hilo, Joan and I mulled over what was going on, and what caused this scenario.

As much as I could figure out, this strange scenario was a produce of the Wonders of the Computer Age. It is now ridiculously easy to process data. It is in the interpreting the data that gives you problems.

I had told the TPL people in Washington that we were TPS members when I requested trail information. A computer has probably routinely checked to see if this was so. The computer had also discovered that we were Legacy members that is, planned to leave a significant portion of our estates to TPL. In addition, I had innocently stated that we were enroute to our "Winter Home" on the Big Island. The implication was that in addition to a "Winter Home" somewhere between Blenheim Palace and Monticello in size, we also had a "summer" as well as possibly a spring and fall estate.

An alert TPL staffer could be forgiven for jumping to the conclusion that we were rich as Warren Buffett and just as public-spirited. Teaming us up with a local millionaire to help save the Hawaiian environment would be just the ticket!

What to do? Well, we could confess to being poor, but that would be humiliating. Joan pointed out that no one had asked us how rich we were, and besides, Joan had never met a mega millionaire and the prospect intrigued her.

I agreed we could go with the flow, until the time came to start writing checks, and then the jig would be up.

We were met at the Hilo Airport, not by a car and driver, but by a Jeep driven by Ed Olson himself, who whisked us off to see his OK farm and store.

Olson was a great bear of a man with a cotton eye browed face seamed and cratered by decades of sun exposure on 10,000 construction sites in Southern California. He was approaching his 8th decade and had the boundless enthusiasm and sense of the possible of a twenty something.

There are some people, such as Steve Jobs or Bill Gates, upon whom a traditional college education is a total waste of time and money. Ed Olson was one of these. Which was fortunate as his parents were of very modest means. Right after high school, Ed was accepted into that tuition free Harvard of the Working Class, The US Marine Corps.

The Marines provided him with discipline and confidence, which was all he would need. He had the imagination.

After matriculating from The Marines, Ed went into Construction, specializing in "The Mud Trades" that is, concrete in all its applications. Ed was very observant, the hallmark of his success. He did not invent "gunite" (pressure sprayed concrete) but he could visualize its potential. He also realized that having a boss would just get in the way, so he struck out on his own, with a loan and an idea:

Ed could spot a trend. Southern California was on the cusp of a swimming pool boom. It seems that everyone needed a swimming pool in his or her back yard. With "gunite" Ed could mass-produce swimming pools, digging and spraying one in a day. He would build more than 18,000 swimming pools before selling the business.

He remained observant. One day, sitting in a diner, he noticed a strange set of buildings across the street. They looked like a row of automobile garages. "What were they?" Ed inquired at the manager's office.

"Storage Units, People store their stuff in them." The manager replied.

"How many of these things do you have? Ed asked.

"500" said the manager.

"How many were rented?"

"494."

"How many employees are there?

"Just me."

"Who puts the stuff in?"

"The space renters"

"Who takes it out"?

"Same deal"

"They do all the work?"

"Yup"

Now Ed did not invent the storage business, but he could spot a trend. Americans are pack rats and cannot bear to throw anything away. Ed tweaked and improved the storage industry until he was elected to The Storage Industry Hall of Fame (Yes, there is one!) and was soon making $120 million a year.

Ever restless, he was beginning to find the storage business a bore, so he turned management of the business over to his son and elected to work on a sustainable Hawaiian environment and agriculture. Which is where The Trust for Public Land and Yours Truly, The Christian Bureaucrat enters the picture.

In the 1970's and '80's the Hawaiian sugar industry began to collapse due to cheap foreign competition and the great sugar plantations began to be sold off.

Ed bought some 18,000 acres of the Big Island of Hawaii and is still buying it. According to Ed, some of the land is park worthy and he duly donated it to the public. Other land, he discovered is particularly sacred to the Hawaiian people due to legends or burials and he saw to it that the land was conveyed to the proper Hawaiian group.

Other lands he felt should be in sustainable agriculture. He felt the Hawaiian Islands should be self-sustaining in food and energy. This has been the dream of various eco-cranks ever since the first Earth Day in 1970. The problem with dreamers is that they are poor. (Roxanne Quimby noticed this "I was a flower child hippie, but I learned that in order to make something happen, you had to have money, so I got some!")

Ed was an action dreamer, but like Ms Quimby, he also had money, a potent combination. He could make things happen.

Ed drove us about his OK Farm. (The "O" stands for Olson, the "K" for a hard working Hawaiian subsistence farmer that Ed decided to make his partner.)

Thunderbear.Ed experimented with just about every fruit and nut tree that would grow in Hawaii, which is a lot. No niche market was neglected. He was growing an odd turban shaped lemon that, according to Ed "Tasted like any other lemon, but was absolutely necessary to grace the swizzle sticks of expensive drinks in expensive bars in Waikiki." A more practical, if less lucrative fruit was breadfruit, which tastes a bit more like potatoes than bread, only better. "Captain Bligh was right about breadfruit, he was just a bit ahead of the demand curve," said Ed.

Ed is famous for his Macadamia nuts and even more famous for delivering his crop on tTime. "Buyers know they can count on us." Macadamia nut processing is critically dependent on machinery, which frequently breaks down, as the Macadamia "nut" is one of the hardest seeds in the world. Presiding over the operation, was a beautiful, profane young island girl, who, wrench in hand, was swearing at the machinery, her assistants, and, when we got in range, Ed himself.

"She has a very low frustration point" Said Ed, amiably ignoring the tirade, "She is also a mechanical genius. When something won't work, she gets mad and fixes it. She basically redesigned our nut processing machine so it would work, something the factory failed to do."

Ed is also famous for picking good staff members and treating them well. If you work for Ed Olson for four years, your kids get their college paid for at the University of Hawaii. The resulting loyalty and resourcefulness of his staff is legendary. One group of workers discovered an abandoned 100-year-old irrigation tunnel that was full of mud. Without telling Ed they dug it out in their spare time, realizing the potential for hydroelectric power, one of the underutilized energy sources on the island.

Ed believes that the chimera of a self-sufficient Hawaii is possible and is willing to lease land and even bankroll young islanders who want to try the experiment.

He also believes that Hawaii could even be self sufficient in fuel. That is, biodiesel, that could power electricity generating plants, trucks, and people smart enough to have a diesel automobile. Ed believes it can be made from sweet sorghum as a feedstock, so is planning to farm that crop. The process also works on other organic material such as trees, particularly exotic species of weed trees that Hawaii unfortunately has in abundance. Ed thinks it just may work. At any rate, Hawaii Electric has offered to buy all the biodiesel they could produce.

So what happened when Ed discovered we were not fellow millionaires?

Well, nothing much. I doubt if it took too much to discover we were just ordinary folk, and Ed is too much of a Marine to be a snob about money or the lack of it. So we just kept on being friends and keep abreast of his environmental projects.

And happily, the Trust for Public Land has not asked us to pungle up a spare million for the Environment.


THE SAFETY MESSAGE

What is a park safety officer to do when Congress becomes unsafe (or unhinged)?

That is not an entirely hypothetical question should Congress pass The Recreational Land Self Defense Act.

According to one of its co-sponsors, Senator Jim Webb (D-VA) "Gun owners need to know they can exercise their Second Amendment rights when they are legally camping, hiking or fishing in our nation's parks and recreation areas." (I realize I am taking Senator Webb too literally, but I can't get the image of Second Amendment "exercisers" with a fly fishing rod in one hand and a blazing Beretta in the other, out of my head!)

Anyways, even without the passage of The Recreational Land Self Defense Act, pro-concealed carry legislation in 2009 allows you to carry a loaded gun in a national park.

Like it or not, the National Park System is now part of the Great American Gun Culture. It is the job of the NPS to see that guns and people safely co-exist in the National Parks.

Actually, it is not too difficult in most national parks like Yellowstone. According to Al Nash, YELL spokesperson, you may carry a loaded .44 magnum pistol in YELL until you get a herniated disc from the extra weight, but you must never, ever discharge it.

The National Rifle Association considers the no discharge provision to be a real bummer, as in what's the point if you can't go BOOM! on occasion?

Indeed, the NRA's main argument for guns in the parks was to allow the Armed Citizen (Sacred words, partners!) to confront "dangerous animals" and "dangerous people" in the national parks. (It is worth noting that not too long ago, the NRA regarded federal officers, including park rangers, as potentially "dangerous people" and helpfully advising members to shoot them in the face to avoid the inconvenient flak vest. That "safety tip" resulted in President George Bush Senior canceling his life membership in the NRA.)

The NRA's "Dangerous Animal" argument is based on the undeniable fact that most national parks contain large wild animals. That is, after all, one of reasons that national parks were established. The second part of the argument is that the "Armed Citizen" (yea! hooray! Is present on the scene, and somehow knows more about large animal behavior than the rangers who have studied the animals for years.) Rather than having armed dentists from Dallas making wildlife management decisions, Yellowstone and other national parks, sensibly insist on a "No discharge" policy.

"But what about that mountain goat in Olympic that killed that hiker? " You demand.

The case of the belligerent billy goat is an interesting and complex one; the unlikely scenario that actually happened. Some Mountain Goats, destructive exotics imported from the Rocky Mountains have become habituated to humans due to the tendency of male Americans to wander off the trail and take a leak in the woods. The goats crave the salt in the urine and have learned to follow the hiker for a treat.

The NPS had posted signs describing the problem and warning visitors not to pee near the trail.

Now it is true that if there had been a party of NRA members hiking by at the exact moment the goat decided on the fatal charge, they could have delivered a broadside into the animal that would have saved the day. Again, this is an unlikely scenario In this case; the solution seems not to be armed visitors, but the removal of the exotic mountain goats from Olympic.

On the other coast, in Everglades National Park the exotic Burmese Python, which can grow over 25 feet in length and can conceivably envelop one of your children or your yappy Yorkshire that is off leash, and thus require the services of the Armed Citizen.

The problem is in hitting the animal and not hitting the victim. Things did not work out well on the Idaho-Montana border when a hunter who was attacked by a bear he had wounded, was fatally shot through the bear by his hunting companion. As in the case of Olympic, the solution seems to be in the removal of the exotics, but not by Armed Citizens. The thought of the nervous Armed Citizen shooting at every movement in the Everglades saw grass is appalling and depressing.

Now we move on to the safety aspects of what the NRA REALLY likes, the possibility of the Armed Citizen shooting a "dangerous person" in the parks, thus fulfilling everyone's Walter Mitty fantasies.

To be fair, the NRA has a point: Contrary to the opinions of Liberals and THE NEW YORK TIMES, most criminals and other bad guys (wife beaters etc) are NOT killed by the police, but by the "Armed Citizen."

Why this is the case is rather obvious; the cops are not there at the time of the incident, but the perpetrator and the victim are. These shootings are typically very fast and at very close range; he burglar coming in your bedroom window, the store owner, the beaten spouse not taking any more, etc. The key, however is that the "Armed Citizen" is usually in familiar surroundings and circumstances, that is, home turf

The NPS has wisely instituted a "No guns in any federal buildings." in the National Parks.

The NRA has not yet objected to this regulation, but probably will, as people are found in buildings making them the best source of potentially "dangerous people" for NRA members to shoot.

Your kindly editor asked Scott Gediman, spokesperson for Yosemite how the park was dealing with the issues.

Selfishly, it would seem.

Yosemite has placed signs on the visitor center and other buildings saying no firearms permitted, and for those who are illiterate, a picture of a gun with a line drawn threw it,

This meant that the rangers have a socialistic monopoly on shooting bad guys in the Visitor Center. Does Glenn Beck know about this?

I asked Scott if I could impress the ladies at the Afternoon Tea in the Ahwahnee Hotel by accidentally allowing my tweed jacket to open enough to show the butt of my concealed carry revolver?

Scott said "No, the Ahwahnee Hotel is a federal building and thus off limit to firearms."

Yosemite is no fun at all!

Actually, that is not the case. The NPS has "posted" federally owned buildings in National Parks not to frustrate the Walter Mittys of the NRA, but for the very real reason is that Things Are Often Not What They Seem in a crowd situation.

NPS rangers spend scores of hours in simulated "shoot/don't shoot" drills with crowds, multiple shooters, innocent bystanders, etc. The average "Armed Citizen" does not have that training and may make potentially tragic mistakes in an unfamiliar crowded situation.

This is a safety issue that can be politely and tactfully pointed out to the Second Amendment Exerciser, who, if possessing a full mental magazine, should understand and agree.

We now move on to the safety issues of guns and alcohol in National Recreation Areas

Park purists have often raised an eyebrow and pursed a mouth at the idea of National Recreation Areas and their very close siblings, The National Seashores and The National Lakeshores.

Why?

Well, National Parks and National Monuments are Spiritual and Contemplative; where one explores one's relationship with God and Nature and the Universe.

National recreational areas explore one's relationship with beer, speed, noise, water and girls wearing very little clothing.

The recreation area visitor is much more likely to ask directions to the nearest nude beach rather than to the naturalist talk,

Now seeing the recreation area and other visitors through beer goggles can lead to spectacular accidents (particularly if Jet skis were involved) and nearly as spectacular fistfights, there was a limit to the amount of mayhem that could occur. Would the legalization of guns in the recreation area, coupled with alcohol, change that equation?

If in doubt, ask a ranger.

So I put the question to Gary Warshifski, Chief Ranger of Lake Mead National Recreation Area (LAME).

Gary got the ball rolling with one of the great understatements in NPS management:

"For many reasons, LAME is not typical of units of the National Park System." (I think most would find agreement with that statement!)

Gary continues, "One of the reasons is that LAME's enabling legislation allows, hunting, fishing and trapping."

However, according to Gary, the casual use of firearms is not permitted in LAME. That is, no target practice or plinking is allowed. (plinking is the shooting of beer cans off a rock, not as elevating as reading the Hundred Great Books, but more fun) That is, if you have a gun, you must be going, coming, or doing hunting, being in effect, "on duty" as a hunter and complying with the hunting regulations of Nevada or Arizona. Thus, except for hunting, LAME maintains a "No Discharge" policy. With that "No casual discharge" policy firmly in place, Gary envisions no particular problems with the Enhanced Second Amendment Exercisers.

Perhaps.

I asked Gary if alcohol was ever a problem at LAME?

Is the Pope Catholic?

According to Gary, while LAME does not have "family beaches" (Euphemism for alcohol free beaches.), LAME does prohibit alcohol in specific areas where there have been large numbers of alcohol related incidents, or as Gary puts it "Where visitors have been recreating, shall we say creatively, such as cliff diving."

As for the new rules on concealed carry and the presence of alcohol, Gary, an optimistic sort, does not anticipate any increase in guns and alcohol related incidents.

Over at Indiana Dunes National Lakeshore (INDU) which services the recreational needs of the Chicago Metropolitan Area, Ranger Mike Bremer tells us that an Indiana State Concealed Permit is required, which unlike other states, is not an easy acquire.

Mike tells us that INDU has no family beaches per se, but several stretches of beach are closed to alcohol, for example, West Beach was closed to alcohol "due to a long history of alcohol related crimes such as disorderly conduct and assault. The result (of the alcohol prohibition) was that West Beach was named by PARENTS MAGAZINE as the "Best Family Beach in the National Parks."

Portage Lake Front and Porter Beach are also closed to alcohol due to their proximity to state and local beaches that are also closed to alcohol.

According to Mike "Five years ago we instituted a "No alcohol in the campground" due to feedback from families, church groups, scouts, etc. that they did not feel safe in the campground due to multiple fights. We then noted a change in the type of visitor use of the campground with many more families and far fewer use of campsites as bases for "parties."

Well, now, there you have it, neighbors, and several safety messages are here.

For one, your kindly editor rather likes the concept of the "family Beach" where it is understood that there is no alcohol, but does not demonize beer drinkers. Who could object to families and other folk recreated in a fight and profanity free environment?

The NPS tends to shy away from the term "Family Beach," preferring the blunt "No alcohol" for the slow learners. There are those who say all your beaches better be family beaches, or you will end up with the alternative "The Gomorrah Beach" where as the bible tells us "The inhabitants thereof put an enemy in their mouths that stole away their brains."

The second safety lesson is that if you are going to choose between fighting two powerful lobbies, in this case, The Alcohol Lobby and The Gun Lobby, go for the weaker one, the Alcohol lobby, as a sober "Second Amendment Exerciser" is easier to deal with than an intoxicated one.


READERS' COMMENTS

Yup, neighbors, it's the end of the trail for issue #289 and time for reader's comments on the previous issue, #288.

As is the THUNDERBEAR custom, we have provided our correspondents with "handles," but otherwise have not changed their comments.

As might be expected, the review of Paul Berkowitz's THE CASE OF THE INDIAN TRADER, catalyzed some comments:

One retired ranger wrote:

Dear THUNDERBEAR,

Glad to contribute. I have known Paul Berkowitz since he was 21 years of age as a green and liberal ranger at LAME with a degree in history and such skills as a concert violinist. He started out as a visionary innocent and handsome as any Ranger profile magazine would like him to appear. The NPS made him prickly.

To my knowledge over the years he has never hurt an innocent person and always held himself and others (including managers) to the highest standards of honesty and integrity when it came to charging someone who was accused of a crime in the NPS. He has worked just as hard proving and investigating criminal conduct with a bent on getting the facts straight. If there was doubt as to guilt he immediately made note of it during any investigation before a reputation was ruined. This case (The Indian trader, Billy Malone) is a classic example of a failure on management's part to supervise and to review a lower ranking employees' work. A comment in the book indicating in an interview that fear of being called on the carpet by a support group would force a high level manager to go after what appears to be a helpless old man aka Indian Trader, stinks, but is typical of going along to get along NPS style.

You can refer to me and the others in my group as the Grey Wolves. And we can and will still bite. I would suggest an interview with the current investigative services manager re prospective.

Note: You may want to look for an expose from resources re similar matters such as management incompetence. This is what I hear.

Gone but not silent

Ranger GreyWolf.


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Image credits:
Jackboots - en.wikipedia.org
Maine Woods National Park - forestecologynetwork.org
Mistaken Identity - filmschoolrejects.com
SafetyBear - WebHarmony LLC composite
The Nature Conservancy - nature.org
The Trust for Public Land - tpl.org
© Copyright 2011 by P. J. Ryan, all rights reserved.

PJ Ryan can be reached at:
thunderbear123@gmail.com.