Thunderbear 291

It seems that in the 1950's, a local chapter of the Knights of Columbus had placed a statue of Christ on the ski slope (A reasonable precaution as skiing is a bi-partisan safety issue; two politicians, Democrat Michael Kennedy and Republican Sonny Bono were eventually killed skiing into trees.) Neither was wearing a helmet: The statue of Christ DOES wears a helmet.

However, one of those pesky First Amendment groups had complained that the Forest Service was in violation of the US Constitution; Separation of Church and Safety and all that.

The US Forest Service, which normally puts no god before Mammon, said it would have to think about it. In bureaucratese, "Thinking About It" means about ten years or never, depending on the political temperature at the time. The First Amendment Group said they would sue

"Ranger Jack," a THUNDERBEAR READER from the Northeast Region of the National Park Service was intrigued by the story and asked me if Jesus wore ski clothes or the more familiar bible clothes when he went skiing.

Your editor did not know the answer to that question, but promised to ask The Great Bear the next time I saw him.

That opportunity came sooner than expected. The next morning, I opened the backdoor to our patio and there he was: Ten feet tall, impressive even when seated, his 28 foot wings were folded neatly behind the two chairs needed to support his more that 2,000 pound weight. The full liter cans of his beer bandoliers clinked as he raised a paw in greeting.

I was glad that there was a tall wooden fence surrounding the patio. The presence of a beer drinking flying bear would be difficult to explain to my neighbors even in laid back, "Whatever" Southern California.

Thunderbear is Facility Manager for Planet Earth. As a Celestial Civil Servant his job was to monitor the state of the planet and its life support systems with the collateral duty of reporting on the progress of God's favorite hobby, Evolution.

One problem was that Earth was one of the Vorgon Series of Water Planets. Like many government projects, the Vorgon Series seemed like a good idea at the time. The Vorgon class planets were to be randomly distributed in "Life Possible" orbits around likely stars scattered throughout the universe, where waterborne evolution could be observed.

The Vorgon design proved to be remarkably leaky, with unpredictably moving plates with attendant earthquakes, volcanoes, giant waves, and ferocious weather. The prototype planet, Vorgon itself, became famously unglued, with more than 6 billion Vorgonians and other species on board. It was one of the great scandals of The Celestial Civil Service.

"Look, I have to work with the resources and budget they give me! It's not my fault," The Great Bear said in a tone reminiscent of facility managers throughout The Universe.

As Earth, despite the name, was a water planet with more than 3/5th of its surface covered with that substance in either the liquid or solid state, it was logical to assume that sentient life would evolve in the sea.

"At least that's the way we were betting!" Thunderbear said, ruefully. "We forgot about those hairless monkeys. Once they lost their fear of fire, it was sort of downhill for all the other species."

"It's hard to get fire to burn underwater" I said soothingly, "You shouldn't beat up on yourself."

"Well, that's Evolution for you!" I said heartily. "Nothing like betting on high cranial capacity, fire, and opposable thumbs"!

"You humans are overtaking wind and water as forces of geological change!" Thunderbear said, a note of wonder in his voice.

"Ah well!" I said apologetically. "Nature can still back us down! Nothing like a good rumbling volcano to put the fear of the Lord in us and start us running the other way!"

That idea visibly pleased Thunderbear. He clearly liked the thought that there were some aspects of Nature that we humans could not chop down, dam, or shovel away; volcanoes clearly appealed to him.

"If the Yellowstone Caldera goes off, you'd better watch it from Minneapolis rather than Cody!" He stated, with grim relish. If the Mammoth Lakes Volcanic complex becomes fully active, it could make life interesting in the Los Angeles Basin" (As in a "Last Days of Pompeii" scenario, apparently) "If the magma under Crater Lake makes contact with the lake, you can shorten the name to Crater National Park."

The Great Bear pointed out that recent studies showed that major volcanism had occurred in what is now Death Valley National Park only a scary 800 years ago, rather than the comfortable one million years that had been previously assumed.

Clearly, mega-volcanism could be a game changer for the human race, or at least our section of it. I decided to move the conversation on to a less dangerous topic.

I told him about the statue of Jesus at the Forest Service Ski Area in Montana and how "Ranger Jack" had asked me if Jesus still wore bible clothes.

The Great Bear looked at me incredulously. "Are you crazy? Look! The only people that wear bible clothes nowadays are the Taliban and Al-Qaeda! If Christ showed up at LA International airport wearing bible clothes, beard and sandals, Homeland Security would shoot him before he got to the ticket counter!"

"Like everyone, Christ dresses for the occasion; if He's going skiing, he dresses in ski clothing, if he's catching a plane he dresses like Mitt Romney."

"Keep your voice down" The Bear hissed. "Southern Californians are extremely suggestible."

"No! Of course not! Mitt Romney is NOT the Messiah!" Thunderbear whispered. "It is true that Romney will try to use the U.S. Presidency as a stepping stone to much bigger things, but not on this planet and not on my watch!"

"The Bible doesn't mention Christ going surfing either," The Bear said dryly, "I wonder why?"

"You're right!" I said brightly. "There are a number of good surfing beaches in Israel such as Maravi and Shonit and there's a ski resort on Mount Hermon in northern Israel and yet the Bible makes no mention of Christ skiing or surfing! Why not?"

"Look" He said "Maybe, just maybe, could it be that Christ just didn't go skiing or surfing?"

"But why not?" I persisted "Skiing and surfing are low tech, Neolithic sports. If you're handy with tools, and remember, Christ was a skilled carpenter; He could have made a pair of skis and a surfboard in less than a week!"

"Jesus H. Christ!" Thunderbear growled menacingly. "I don't know why He didn't go skiing or surfing! He just didn't! And what's more I don't give a damn as to why he didn't!"

"But are you sure?" I insisted. "Are the Gospels complete? Aren't there some lost skiing Gospels kicking around? What about the Dead Sea Scrolls? Christ must have had some recreational regimen! All work and no play make Jesus a dull deity!" I added piously.

"Look" The Great Bear said patiently "Recreation is a relatively new evolutionary construct; it evolved from something you had to do to survive, like subsistence hunting to something you don't have to do anymore, but that some do because its fun, like sport hunting. Granted, that doesn't entirely explain the evolution of Cricket or Australian Rules football, but it's a start."

"The people of the Bible did not have a great deal of time left over from the tasks of feeding, clothing, and sheltering themselves and what spare time or "recreation" was spent, according to the Bible, in getting drunk, fornicating, committing adultery or murder, or plotting against each other. They could have gone surfing or skiing, but they didn't. It would have been a distraction. Your biblical ancestors were extremely literal people. Have you ever wondered why there are no jokes or other humor in either the Bible, the Koran, or the Book of Mormon?"

Thunderbear had raised an interesting point. Since most healthy humans never pass a day without grinning or chuckling at or about something, how come our holy books were so dour?

"Well" I began lamely "I suppose worshipping The Lord and getting into Heaven is a pretty serious business and thus not given to levity."

The Great Bear sighed so heavily that the liter cans on his beer bandolier rattled and clanked.

"You humans analyze everything and try to find a meaning in everything. Your theologians would have pored over the punch line of a joke and try to discern who or what it was that God wanted killed or forbidden. I strongly advised Christ against telling any jokes during his 36-month mission to Earth. There is nothing worse than a bunch of fanatics who don't get the punch line. Fortunately, Christ took my advice.

As for skiing and surfing, that would be another distraction difficult to explain within the context of religion. Skiing and surfing are part of human evolution and they happen when they happen; First Century Judea wasn't the time or place.

As for your original question; you may tell Ranger Jack that Christ would wear regular ski clothes and would use the ski lift to ascend the mountain rather than doing it himself; no need to start a Second Coming panic. Now could I have another cup of coffee?"

MARSHALL OBAMA

Now I realize that an endorsement from someone who gets most of his insights from a beer drinking flying bear may not be quite what the President's Reelection Committee had in mind, but "Ordinary," "Normal" or "Average" beats the hell out of "Crazy," which seems an apt description of the Republican candidates. One of them, a Senator Santorum, seems to have direct evidence that "Satan has America in his sights." Romney, the sanest of the lot, seems to believe that corporations are human. Mitt has yet to state his opinion on vampires and werewolves.

Dealt a rather bad hand by fate and his predecessor, President Obama has played it as well as a recalcitrant and destructive House of Representatives would allow, his achievements have been modest, but, given the situation it amazing that they were achieved at all.

As promised, he has extracted us from the tar pits of the Iraqi War and achieved the main goal of the Afghan War, the death of Osama Bin Laden, allowing us (hopefully) to tip our hats and slowly ride away from that conflict.

General Motors Corporation was saved from bankruptcy by a federal bailout and is once again the largest car company in the world, posting a seven billion dollar profit, the largest in the history of the company.

He seems a competent, if uncharismatic manager with a remarkably tin ear for public relations, a deficiency strange for a community organizer.

As noted, he is blessed with perhaps the most bizarre and outrageous set of opponents ever to face an incumbent president, but he does have his problems.

One surprising defect of the Obama Presidency (at least to bleeding heart liberals) is its steely willingness to engage in the extra judicial killing of our enemies. The President is willing to blow away the bad guys at the drop of a hat and is glad to drop the hat. (Naturally, to Republicans, this is one of Obama's few lovable traits.) A Jehadist preacher need not deliver too many fiery death threats before a drone and hellfire missile is directed his way.

This appeals to our sense of frontier justice in which the stalwart pioneers, irritated by seemingly untouchable bad guys, are organized by John Wayne or Clint Eastwood into a vigilante committee, after which legal niceties are simplified and the villains are slaughtered. We Americans like this shorthand.

This might be satisfying and even effective, but it might not be quite legal and/or moral: Due process, trials, and all that sissy stuff.

Not to fret, says Professor Joseph Bessette of Claremont-McKenna College. "The Constitution authorizes Congress to approve the use of force against the nation's enemies and authorizes the President as Commander in Chief to direct that force" In addition, after 9/11 "Congress authorized the President to "Use all necessary and appropriate force against Al- Qaeda and the nations or persona that aided it."

According to Dr. Bessette, the President "May also order the killing of Americans who become combatants on the other side. The authority to do so comes from the Constitution." (Ah, that infallible document that made "Certain People" count 4/5 of a human being!) Recently, none other than the Attorney General of the United States, Eric Holder, seconded Dr. Bessette.

Anwar Awlaki, 'The New Mexico Kid," met that bad guy criterion and recently fell to the Presidential Vigilante Committee via a guided missile that packed him off to Allah for Final Processing.

Now you don't have to come from West Texas to agree that Awlaki needed killing and the quicker the better. He was a charismatic catalyst that talked a number of gullible weak vessels into performing horrendous atrocities, the most famous being that of the Fort Hood psychiatrist who killed 13 and wounded many more. In addition, Anwar's teachings convinced the "Christmas Underwear bomber" to go ahead with a near successful plan to bring down a plane over Detroit. Virtually every terrorist quotes the Reverend Awlaki as being a prime motivator in his or her acts. Simple self preservation rather than vengeance indicated that Awlaki needed to be taken out.

HOWEVER, there are a few niceties to be observed if the USA is to remain the World's Number One Good Guy and Leader of the White Hats.

This is where the National Park Service comes into the picture in the form of Fort Smith National Historic Site.

Fort Smith National Historic Site, Arkansas, among other things celebrates the heroism and professionalism of the frontier U.S. Marshalls against incredible odds and high casualties.

Among these honored at Fort Smith NHS is the celebrated Black Deputy U.S. Marshall Bass Reeves.

On May 26th this year, a heroic equestrian statue of Marshall Reeves, riding at full gallop and brandishing his favorite rifle will be unveiled at the city Park in Fort Smith. It would be nice if President Obama could be present.

Reeves spent more than 30 years as a Deputy US Marshall in the Oklahoma badlands, hunting down and arresting some 3,000 of the most dangerous men in North America.

Amazingly, in his 30-year career, he killed only 14 men in various gunfights, then only after rather chivalrously allowing them the first shot (FLETC does not advise this tactic). An excellent student of human nature, he much preferred to use psychology and theatrics (he was a master of disguises) than violence to close with a criminal and make the arrest. If required, he could fist fight two men at once and be assured of winning.

Often, his reputation was all that was needed. The female bandit Belle Starr simply gave up and turned herself in when she received the depressing news that Reeves had a warrant for her arrest and was on her trail.

Now the arrest warrant is the interesting thing. Although Bass was illiterate (He was, after all, a former slave) he was quite professional about serving the correct warrant to the correct criminal. He would have a friend read the warrants to him, using his sharp and photographic mind to make mental notes. There was never a complaint in Judge Parker's court that he ever served the wrong warrant.

Wild and Wooly as the venue of Federal Judge Parker's court and his deputies was in those frontier days, the legal niceties were strictly observed, warrants were served, trials were held, and while a number were hanged, nobody was subjected to Jedburgh Justice.

This does not seem to be entirely the case with Marshall Obama, "The Law East of the Potomac. "

Presently, who gets whacked out depends on the scholarly opinions of various military and civilian bureaucrats, people as infallible as, well, you and I.

Now Judge Isaac Parker and Marshall Reeves had a pretty good idea of who was naughty and who was nice in the Oklahoma Territory and it would have been more efficient, safer, and cost effective to have Reeves and the other U.S. Marshals simply assassinate all the bad guys.

So how would it work in today's world? Well, probably along the lines of a Federal Grand Jury that would issue an arrest warrant that would be served anyplace in the world; South Dakota or South Ossetia, it would make no difference. The warrants would be served by Navy SEALS deputized as U.S. Marshals (You say that SEALS that took out Bin Laden were NOT deputized U.S. Marshals? Well now! You can understand how our beloved Pakistani allies became upset when the SEALS suddenly appeared in their backyard without badges!)

The arrest warrant would NOT be secret, issued with a nudge and wink, to provide legal cover for a clandestine assassination. Rather it would be issued in broad daylight in a court of law in complete transparency and publicized through the world.

Abdul would know that we really, really wanted to talk to him about this matter.

There are several advantages: One is that the Obama administration would not look like Chicago gangsters. The second advantage is to the defendant; Abdul can stop the death spiral toward martyrdom at his own choosing, by simply agreeing to surrender at the nearest U.S. consulate, where, after being X-rayed for ingested or inserted explosives, he could be put on a plane for trail in the US (Or the International Court at the Hague.) should we be so inclined.

But might they get off? Beat the rap? Well, yeah! That's the whole point of Due Process, Trials, Civilization, and all that time wasting stuff. As Dick Cheney might point out, there ARE certain advantages to Assassination!

However, if we don't get the bad guys for one crime, we will get them for another.

Ernesto Miranda and Danny Escobedo were not granted lifetime immunity from criminal prosecution because somebody failed to read them their rights or provide them a lawyer on one occasion. As career criminals, they eventually went to jail. The same is true of terrorists.

Now if Abdul knew there was a warrant out for his arrest and he needed to make a court appearance, would he have surrendered peaceably like Belle Starr?

Probably not. More than likely, he would state the Arabic version of "Come and Get me, Copper!"

And if Abdul laughs at our warrant? His choice; we then try him in absentia, in public, with witnesses for the defense. As noted it will not be Jedburgh justice, but a real trial with a real possibility for beating the rap! (We are losing Dick Cheney at this point!)

Assuming that the Prosecution was a tad more competent than that of O.J. Simpson's, Abdul would have been convicted. At this point, Abdul would be ordered to appear for sentencing.

This is where he would have one last chance. The death penalty is now seldom asked in Federal cases (Dick will start to grumble) if he surrenders he will spend life without possibility of parole, in Federal Prison making interpretive signs for the National Park Service.

The odds are against this. He will decline the offer and state he will not be taken alive.

Now are we required to have a SEAL, warrant in hand, walk down the main street of the Capital of Yemen, like Gary Cooper in the climactic scene from 'HIGH NOON?

Nope! Nor did Bass Reeves or the other frontier U.S. Marshals ever do the walk-down-the-street bit. Brave as they were, they always preferred to take the Bad Guys at their own convenience and on their terms

So, with all the legalities attended to, we can, in good conscience, dispatch the drone and hellfire missile.

But isn't it all time consuming? Well, yes, the rule of law tends to be time consuming, but that's civilization.

It is to be hoped that President Obama can make it to Fort Smith for the unveiling of the Bass Reeves statue; it is amazing what one can learn at a National Park Service Historic Site.

MAGICAL DAY

It is 19 miles from Ventura Harbor to Santa Cruz Island and it takes around an hour or bit more if you stop.

Why would you stop? Why, to watch whales and other marine mammals of course! As noted, you get a three dividends from a visit to Channel Islands National Park, a boat ride, a Marine Mammal viewing experience, and of course, one or more of the islands of the park. It is one of the best-kept world class nature secrets in the U.S.

I mean, where could you potentially see the largest living, breathing animal that ever lived on the face of the earth, the smallest fox in the Western Hemisphere, the tallest flowering tree in the Western Hemisphere, and the second longest (some say the longest) sea cave in the world Yup! All on one island and its attendant Marine Sanctuary; Santa Cruz.

Only God knows what mysteries lie as yet undisturbed on the other islands of Channel Island National Park.

Lack of automobile access tend to deflate us Americans and cause us to question the very reason for doing something, like going to Channel Island National Park.

Conversely, lack of automobiles inflates the size of a National Park if you have to do everything by Shank's Mare (This should please Republicans, but probably won't.)

Lack of automobile access reduces the number of park patrons to those who have an actual interest in the Park rather than those who couldn't decide between Las Vegas and Disneyland for the weekend.

Now this is not a new idea. It was most famously put forth in Edward Abbey's DESERT SOLITAIRE, the "Polemic: Industrial Tourism and the National Parks" chapter.

Abbey realized that divorcing Americans from their cars was very important to the full appreciation of nature. According to Cactus Ed: "Let us therefore steal a slogan from the Development Fever Faction in the Park Service. The parks, they say, are for people. Very well. At the main entrance to each national park and national monument we shall erect a billboard one hundred feet high and two hundred feet wide�behind will loom the figure of Smokey the Bear. Push a button and Smokey will recite, for the benefit of children and government officials who might otherwise have trouble with some of the big words, in a voice ursine, loud and clear, the message spelled out on the face of the billboard. To wit:

"Howdy Folks, Welcome. This is YOUR National Park, established for the pleasure of you and all people everywhere. Park your car, jeep, truck, tank motorbike, motorboat, jet boat, airboat, submarine, airplane, jet plane, helicopter, hovercraft, winged motorcycle, rocket ship, or any other conceivable type of motorized vehicle in the world's biggest parking lot behind the comfort station immediately to your rear. Get out of your motorized vehicle. Get on your horse, mule, bicycle or feet and come on in.

Abbey would find it ironic that one of the few automobiles free National Parks is located smack dab on the doorstep of that Holy Temple of the Automobile, Los Angeles, California. That's one of the amusing contradictions of life in Southern California.

We drove down from Carpentaria to the ISLAND PACKERS' dock at the Ventura Marina.

ISLAND PACKERS is the private concession that handles transportation between the mainland and the various islands of Channel Islands National Park. The relations between ISLAND PACKERS and the NPS seems a cordial one. At least I've not heard any staff members criticize the other entity.

There is no admission charge to Channel Island National Park, so, if you can walk on water, paddle a kayak 19 miles, or possess an ocean capable yacht, you are home free. Otherwise, you are a guest of ISLAND PACKERS. They charge around $51 for senior (a bit more for the outer islands) CHIS in turn levies a 7% concession fee on each ticket, something you won't feel, as it is included in the price of the ticket. It's a magnificent little voyage, a bargain for reasons you shall see, and the PACKERS do a professional job.

THE ISLAND PACKERS shop has an excellent selection of books on natural and human history of the park as well as a good (if expensive) line of hoody sweatshirts and jackets for those who had forgotten or never realized that it gets cold out on the Pacific.

We boarded the good ship ISLANDER and very shortly stood out to sea, bound for the largest of the Channel Islands, Santa Cruz. Last April we had gone out to the NPS portion of Santa Cruz to do some sea kayaking and sea cave exploring. This time, February, we would do some hiking on the mysterious private section of the island owned by the secretive Nature Conservancy.

ISLAND PACKERS has an advantage in marketing that other ferryboat services do not possess. Ostensibly, all they are providing is transportation out to one of the Channel Islands, (your choice). However, there is a spectacular lagniappe.

Unlike, say, the Staten Island ferry, ISLAND PACKERS ferries pass through some of the world's prime whale and other marine mammal habitat. Depending on the season of the year, you will have an excellent chance of spotting the California Grey Whale, the Humpback Whale and, almost unbelievably, the biggest thing that ever breathed, the majestic Blue Whale, which has returned to Southern California.

What makes this both heartwarming and hopeful is that the Santa Barbara Channel is not some Antarctic wilderness, but a heavy industrial heartland of America, with scores of offshore oil platforms, a two lane Marine highway for some of the biggest shipping ports in the United States and teeming millions of us on shore. Through all this human activity, whales and other marine mammal enthusiastically cavort in ever increasing numbers.

This is good news for commensalism, the belief that humans can live chummily and in close proximity to wild species as long as we know what the hell is going on. Even the oil companies are in the unaccustomed role of being good guys: Their oil platforms provide a substrate for sea life, which in turn nourishes the marine mammal population. In addition, the oil platforms tirelessly suck away at petroleum deposits that are leaking into the marine environment through natural seeps carelessly left open by God and Thunderbear. The resulting 1,000 gallons a day leak menaces the Common Muirre population which has been expanding into the Santa Barbara Channel due to the rich nutrient stream available.

The passengers and crew of ISLANDER were about to receive a Commensalism lesson.

As we threaded our way through the oil platforms, the captain announced a pod of Humpback whales dead ahead; cameras should be cleared for action and telephoto lenes extended.

According to the Marine Mammals Protection Act, no vessel may approach closer than 300 feet to a whale or other marine mammal. This is understandable, considering our rather bloody history with our Cetacean cousins. In addition to bringing up possible disagreeable racial memories and frightening the whales, there was the possibility of collision with the great beasts. So the captain brought ISLANDER to a respectful 100 yards, easily within binocular or telephoto range.

The whales thought otherwise. Either they were off duty or were on a people watching tour, whoever was in charge of the whale pod thought that a separation of 10 or 15 feet was much more chummy and "get to know you," so the Humpbacks swam over and surrounded the ISLANDER.

They were immense creatures, glistening rubbery, wet suit black, mottled with barnacles, whale lice, and other sea growth. (One marvels at sheer good luck of barnacle larvae adapted to hitching a lifetime ride on a passing whale!)

The Humpbacks were also quite noisy, exhaling their famous "spout," warm, moist breath, with a steam whistle screech. Individual whales did lazy barrel rolls, extending a flipper skyward , showing whale armpit.

One whale in particular was quite curious about the boat and/or its passengers. This individual came boiling out of the sea in what is known as a "spy hop," a maneuver in which the whales "stands on its tail" with perhaps 15 to 20 feet of the head and body vertically out of the water. As the whale was only approximately 14 feet from the boat, this maneuver allowed it an opportunity to look into the boat and down upon the awe struck humans.

What the whale saw apparently intrigued the creature, as it repeated the "spy hop" maneuver a second time, peering down at the passengers.

As a grand finale to the show, one of the adult whales decided on a full breach. This is something you usually see only on National Geographic IMAX films, although if hang around Humpbacks long enough, you will eventually experience it. It is one of the great sights in nature.

In the Full Breach, the whale dives deep, then powers vertically for the surface at full speed, driven by its powerful tail flukes: A spot of the ocean domes, whitens, and then the whale breaks the surface, all in a split second. It keeps going, straight up into the alien atmosphere, until the whale and tail are entirely free of the ocean, and fifty or more tons of whale are airborne, then the Humpback delicately arches and lands on its back in a thunderous crash. The human audience spontaneously cheered and applauded.

It was time to move on, our introductory lab session in Commensalism 101 was over.

It is disturbing to think that within the lifetimes of many of us, there were those who sought to harm these gentle giants, and that even today, furtive efforts on the part of Japanese and Norwegians still continue.

Nor is everything entirely commensal in the heavy industrial Santa Barbara Channel. The Channel is one of the busiest shipping lanes on earth. There are two marine highways, each a mile wide, going in opposite directions, with a 2 mile wide separation zone.

None of these traffic technicalities have been explained to the whales, particularly to the Blue whales who are in the process of reestablishing a population in the waters off Los Angeles. Tragically, four of the magnificent and critically endangered Blue whales have been struck and killed by fast moving ships in the past few years.

As noted, Commensalism works if you know what you are doing and then do it. The solution to the whale ship strikes is to (A) establish a speed limit for the Santa Barbara Channel or (B) ban shipping in the Santa Barbara Channel.

Santa Cruz Island, always visible on a clear day as a jagged gray silhouette from the mainland, was beginning to define itself as ISLANDER drew near. First, the various canyons and arroyos, then individual rock formations and cliffs, and finally, the vegetation.

Santa Cruz has a brooding, primordial look to it. Anytime Hollywood needs a ready made set to suggest a land before time, Santa Cruz is just the ticket for that Tolkein-Lord of the Rings look, with miles of lowering gray-black cliffs being pounded by attendant miles of surf, backed with canyon furrowed hills fading into mist, with nary a house, road or human apparent.

The Island is roughly 22 miles long and 6 miles at its broadest, the largest of the seven Channel Islands at 94 square miles. It is also the most varied in geomorphology and ecosystems, with two mountain ranges separated by a central valley. One of the mountain ranges boasts the highest peak on the Channel Islands, 2450-foot Mount Diablo.

Santa Cruz is shared between two entities, the National Park Service in the form of Channel Islands National Park (or 'CHIS") and The Nature Conservancy (TNC) in the form of The Santa Cruz Island Conservancy. The NPS owns 24% of the island, the TNC the other 76%.

If you're curious as to what this looks like, Santa Cruz Island resembles a Western Seagull swimming toward Oxnard, California. The NPS owns the beak, head, and neck of our Seagull, while the TNC owns the body.

Why is it the case that the NPS owns part of the island and a private land conservancy owns the other part? Well, now that is an interesting story which is discussed in issue #287 of THUNDERBEAR and is an interesting cautionary tale to NPS bureaucrats not to count your park before the signing's done and keep your mouth shut until that happens.

ISLANDER, behind schedule due to our conference with whales, was making for the Scorpion Ranch anchorage, which is located just above the eye of our imaginary sea gull. It is basically the NPS headquarters for their portion of the island and has some historic structures and interpretation. It is also the kayak assembly point for various private and commercial kayak trips along the Santa Cruz coast as well as for observing the rare Santa Cruz fox.

We remained on board ISLANDER as we were bound for the TNC port of entry, Prisoners Harbor.

The last of our kayakers discharged, the captain started the diesels and made a port turn along the coast. We moved along the neck of our imaginary seagull for about 20 minutes until we reached the body of our gull and swung into Prisoners Harbor.

There is some conjecture as to why the anchorage is called Prisoners Harbor. There is the story that when California was under the Mexican government, that cash strapped entity was looking for an inexpensive outdoor prison and so a shipload of convicts were dropped off at an inlet on Santa Cruz Island that became known as Prisoners Harbor. According to the story, the prisoners escaped to the mainland, and became California's first Republicans.

Although Prisoners Harbor is the port of entry for The Nature Conservancy, the pier is owned by the NPS, and marks the boundary between the two organizations. One public and one very private; a sort of Ying and Yang of conservation philosophies.

The National Park Service, in the form of CHIS is very much interested in the preservation of the environment, but is also very much interested in the non-consumptive enjoyment of the environment by the visiting public.

Amazingly enough, CHIS has not only done EXACTLY what Edward Abbey suggested in DESERT SOLITAIRE 44 years ago (Minus the 100 foot tall billboard, of course.) they have actually improved on his idea; perhaps a "first" for a government agency.

Cactus Ed had the rather na�ve idea that since bicycles are human powered, they really aren't machines: They are; which is why you can't ride them in museums, libraries, churches and Wilderness Areas.

CHIS expressly forbid the use of bicycles on its trails, and horses and mules are unavailable. Therefore, the CHIS back country user is limited to placing one foot in front of another until 15 miles have elapsed and he/she arrives back at the Scorpion Ranch Landing to be picked up by ISLAND PACKERS.

It is a glorious "limitation" of course. You are not under any sort of supervision and can wander off trail as freely as the wind or sun. You can explore pocket beaches, clamber on the cliffs, poke into sea caves and climb every hill. The NPS safety people will remind you that that the Law of Gravity is strictly enforced at CHIS. That, and asking that your Common Sense Gear be engaged at all times, and no open fires, please, is about all your National Park Service asks of you. There is a primitive campsite four miles down the trail toward your destination of Scorpion Ranch landing and another campground at Scorpion itself. I suppose that if you didn't show up at one or the other in a week's time, the NPS might wonder why and come looking for you. Which is to say that the NPS doesn't unduly impose itself or crimp your style. I could see that one could acquire their Junior Anarchist Merit Badge on the NPS side of the Island.

Not so The Nature Conservancy: They run a decidedly tighter ship on their portion of the Island and spontaneity is not encouraged.

First of all, there is only one hike permitted on the TNC portion of the island. That would be the five-mile round trip hike from Prisoners Bay to Pelican Bay. The hikers must be escorted by a TNC official or designate and must not stray off the trail and must remain in sight of the escort at all times and must obey the orders and instructions of the escort.

Now there are many interesting things to see and do on the TNC side of Santa Cruz. There is for example, the tallest flowering tree in the Western Hemisphere, a mighty Blue Gum Eucalyptus ( ) standing 242 feet tall in the Central Valley of Santa Cruz. There is also the highest peak in the Channel Islands, Mount Diablo.

I really wanted to see the legendary Big Tree and I also wanted to climb the highest peak in the Channel Islands, Mount Diablo.

I asked the TNC Public Affairs Officer, whom we'll call "Barbara," about how I would like to journey to the Santa Cruz Big Tree, photograph it and write a story about it.

"Barbara" wrote back with an attached press release about the "love life" of the California Mussels in the Santa Cruz tide pools, "Just the thing for a St. Valentines Day article."

Very sweet, Barbara, but that is not the question I asked. Why can't I visit the largest broadleaf tree in the Western Hemisphere?

An exchange of e-mails followed, the gist of which was "NO!" followed by Imperial Silence on the part of Barbara.

In all fairness, TNC does not have to show anybody anything ("EUCALYPTUS! WE DON' HAVE TO SHOW YOU NO STEENKING EUCALYPTUS!") I asked a biologist at the University of California, Santa Barbara why TNC was so secretive and difficult on access to the Santa Cruz Conservancy. He replied, "Because they are private and they can get away with it." So it would seem. As fate would have it, around this time Mitt Romney appeared on television, and got that funny little half smile on his face that indicates he plans to strap you to the top of his station wagon and take you for a ride.

Mitt asked rhetorically that "He just didn't understand why there was so much Federal (Public) land in America and that if we sold it to responsible business people, things would be ever so much better" or words to that effect.

Mitt was seconded by the collateral duty moron, Congressman"Doc" Hastings (R-WA) who chimed in with the idea that the "Federal Government couldn't take care of the land it already had" and why did we need so much and so forth.

Stand with me on the dock at Prisoners Harbor, Santa Cruz Island, backpacks on backs (You are familiar with the backpack concept?) We are facing inland. There is a decision to be made.

If you take the trail to the left, you will wind up on public land, held in trust for the American people by that most benign, beloved (and occasionally irritating) federal agency, the National Park Service.

Once you are on NPS land, you will experience a degree of freedom, normally available only to Ted Turner or other wealthy landowners. (Without the company of Jane Fonda of course.) You can walk with a group or alone; fast or slow. You may get off the trail to examine a flower or the top of a distant peak. You may decide to have a Vision Quest, you may choose to climb a cliff, or sit and do nothing for a week.

Now then, Mitt and Doc, if you take the trail to the right (Symbolic notion!) you will shortly be under the supervision of The Nature Conservancy.

Before that happens, however, you will be asked to sign a legal document that you acknowledge the fact that TNC owns 76% of the island, that it is private property and that you agree not to enter the TNC property except while participating in a specific guided tour and will have no other right to enter the TNC preserve now or in the future until and unless you receive explicit written permission to do so from the TNC. (Which is damned unlikely if my experience is any criterion.) You also agree to abide by "all instructions posted on signs at the TNC and with all instructions of the ISLAND PACKERS personnel conducing the guided tour."

Now very probably, Mitt and Doc would not mind these restrictions. As Mitt continually reminds us, he has many wealthy friends who would presumably be willing to invite him over to their ranches or plantations for a stroll and some serious talk.

However, the rest of us must make do with the National Parks and other public lands, made available with as few restrictions to access as possible consonant with the enjoyment and preservation of the resource.

And that, Mitt and Doc, is why we should hold onto our public lands and keep them public.

However, as the Pelican Bay Trail was the only game in TNC town that would be the one I would have to take.

Today's Pelican Bay hiking group were told to muster at the 1887 ranch buildings near the foot of the pier to await our guide and minder.

Our group was small but diverse: A Marine just returned from Afghanistan and suffering from ecological culture shock having been airlifted from the kitty litter desert of Afghanistan to the luxuriant greenery of Coastal California. An enthusiastic lady birder (Is there any other kind?) who desperately wanted to meet a Santa Cruz Jay. Two Asian girls in their late 20's who make you feel guilty about lack of application in school (They were finishing their surgical residencies.) and of course, bringing up the rear, Your Most Obedient Servant, The Christian Bureaucrat.

Due to TNC's list of do's and don'ts, and restrictions, I rather expected our guide to be a retired Obersturmbannfuhrer or some such authority figure.

I was pleasantly surprised to find that our guide was a very good natured, knowledable young woman that we will call "Susan" for privacy purposes. She was something of a polymath, being an all around sea person as well as a crackerjack biologist. She explained that the trail, while only about 5 miles round trip, was classed as "moderate to strenuous" due to the fact that the trail crossed five canyons, three of them steep. Susan was glad that everyone had brought plenty of water as there was none on the trail and the lack of which is a not uncommon disaster though TNC tries to point this out.

Fortunately, between Susan's enthusiasm for the island ecology, much of it endemic, or found nowhere else but Santa Cruz, and the birder's desire to meet new avian species, the pace of the hike was kept below heart attack range by frequent, learned, comments on the Flora by Susan or the possibility there was a bird in the bush.

Finally, ascending our third canyon, there was a metallic clinking sound, the call of the rare and endangered Santa Cruz Island Scrub Jay. Susan called a halt. There was a tantalizing flash of blue in the Scrub oak. Our birder was beside herself. Would we be able to see the Jay, one of the rarest birds in North America?

Not to worry! Jays are the Rotarians of the bird world; complete extroverts; if you don't find them, they will likely find you.

This is true of our Jay, who landed in a shrub besides us and proceeded to pose for pictures; turning like some super model to provide the best photographic angle. The Santa Cruz Island Jay is endemic to Santa Cruz and is found nowhere else, not even on adjoining Santa Rosa Island only 6 miles away as the Island Jay is adamantly against flying over open ocean. In the absence of historic evidence, the NPS does not wish to introduce the Santa Cruz Island Jay to other Channel Islands or the mainland lest this aggressive bird become an invasive pest. (It will eat anything, including the eggs and fledglings of other endangered birds.)

Although it is rare and endangered, the Island Jay is not particularly uncommon on Santa Cruz and the NPS and TNC hope to keep it that way. As the Island Jay has the smallest range and habitat of any bird in North America or perhaps the world, it is exquisitely subject to catastrophe, massive wildfire or hurricane or adverse weather event during nesting season for example, or habitat loss.

As the Island Jay has survived weather disasters over the millennia, and habitat protection is pretty much assured by the TNC and NPS, that means that the Island Scrub Jay is pretty much home free, right?

Mosquito borne West Nile Virus arrived in New York City in the 1990's and has been leap frogging across the United States. It is fatal to birds (and in some cases, us) now it is possible that the 19 miles of Open Ocean may prove a sufficient barrier between the Jays and the virus.

Then again it might not. So TNC and the NPS have engaged in a remarkable program of vaccinating the Island Scrub Jays against West Nile Virus. As vaccination is not hereditary, this has to be an on going project of trapping and vaccinating succeeding generations of Island Scrub Jays. TNC and NPS hope to maintain a core population of at least 250 vaccinated individuals at any given time to forestall catastrophe.

Now certain political candidates would address this as a typical biological boondoggle.

Except for one thing; as John Muir remarked about finding that everything was connected to everything else in the Universe, so it would seem is the Island Scrub Jay.

It seems that it is vital to oak restoration. Now that feral livestock have been removed from Santa Cruz, it is now possible for the oaks to recover, if there were someone to plant them.

That "someone" seems to the Island Scrub Jay, who developed its extra heavy chisel beak to cope with acorns, it's prime winter food. It stores them by burying them. Moreover, it only "plants" acorns that are viable (It gives each acorn a shake to detect hollowness or the presence of weevils)

If you were to conclude that Island Scrub Jays are pretty intelligent, you would be right; some scientists call them the "feathered apes" not too far behind primates in intelligence.

We were soon in sight of Pelican Bay and it was time to turn back lest we miss our return appointment with ISLANDER.

Everyone agreed that it had been a magical day, thanks to Susan, the whales, the Jays and Santa Cruz Island, both NPS and TNC.

Although your editor has been critical of TNC, it should be pointed out that there is no charge for the hike and that, apparently, TNC pays the cost of the ISLAND PACKERS guide. Unlike the NPS Organic Act The Nature Conservancy is not mandated to provide for "The enjoyment of the Scenery by present and future generations."

And in all fairness, TNC is not obliged to make anyone happy. Their mandate does not require your joy. All they are required to do is to preserve a slice of nature and they do a very good job at that task It goes without saying that if TNC can limit the number of people who visit their Preserves, there will be less chance of disturbance or the introduction of some alien plant or animal threat.

In addition, TNC is driven by Science rather than adjectives. National Park areas are often described as "Awesome," "Majestic," "Glorious," "Indescribable," "Beautiful" and so on, but much of nature is not superlative.

As one TNC scientist remarked, "We don't do "pretty," we do Science." The National Park Service has always had a problem gaining traction for the visually dull parts of Nature and America. TNC has no problem in acquiring an unromantic spot of flat prairie or insect infested wetland.

Had Dr. Stanton not been an environmentalist and had sold Santa Cruz Island to a developer rather than gifting it to the TNC, the island would have been subdivided into exclusive "ranchettes" and would be a Western version of Nantucket or Martha's Vineyard. On the other hand, from public relations standpoint (and to make some money) TNC might consider providing docent led hikes to various other points of interest and charging a reasonable fee.

So all considered, what some, including your editor, might consider overprotection, is an unusual fate for a remarkable ecosystem, but one I can live with and there is always the future.

THE SAFETY MESSAGE: THE THIN GREEN LINE

Many people, including journalists who should know better believe that this relative safety is due to the fact that the park is "Out in the Wilderness," "In the Middle of Nowhere." "Away from Big City Problems" and so on; in short, that public safety just happens.

There is this belief that once you are out in God's salubrious Nature, not only will your cares fall away as John Muir predicted, but also the criminal intent of your neighbor in the campground or that rather odd person you passed on the trail.

Unfortunately, this is not true. The Bad Guys look upon National Parks not as fountains of spiritual renewal, but as criminal opportunity as they believe "There ain"t no Law out here."

The Bad Guys will not be deterred by John Muir's spirituality; Deterrence will have to be supplied by the Law Enforcement Protection Ranger.

George Orwell, the pithy, no nonsense British Socialist penned this famous defense of Law Enforcement against fatuous Leftists:

"People sleep peaceably in their beds at night only because hard men stand ready to do violence on those who would do us harm."

It was January 2012. and my wife and I planned to sleep peacefully in our tent at the Texas Spring Campground in Death Valley National Park.

Death Valley National Park is the largest national park in the lower 48; larger than Yellowstone at some 3,373,063 acres Some are surprised that it IS a national park, given its grim name.

It is a place of vast extremes; the lowest point in the North America (282 feet below sea level) as well as our hemisphere's hottest recorded temperature (134 degrees in 1913) and of course, vast distances traversed to see vast beauty. (You will travel more than a hundred miles round trip from Furnace Creek to see the color splash of Ubehebe Crater.)

Even the sun graciously volunteers its services, providing the ever popular "Sunset at Zabriskie Point" (Hint: Get there an hour before the actual event for the best seating and color changes.)

The geology is beyond chaotic, it is anarchic. The various "ologists" are still debating the fine points, so don't be discouraged if you are puzzled by a rock or even a whole mountain range; just look and enjoy it. It won't be on the Final!

Fall and winter are probably the best times to visit Death Valley for the average person (whoever that is). However The Park gets a surprisingly high August visitation due to the European trade. Europeans get from 4 to 6 week vacations. (Yes, Mitt! I realize that all that free time warps their brains and make them want to visit Death Valley in the summertime; that's Socialism for you!)

Anyways, once a European visitor gets used to the vast distances in the American West, the European visitor who is checking off National Parks will note that Death Valley is not all that far from Grand Canyon, Zion and even Sequoia National Park. You only go around once and can it REALLY get that hot? It can-Ed.) Then there are the Europeans and Japanese for whom the 120 plus degree heat is both a challenge and an attraction. There is no place in Europe or Japan where one can experience that kind of heat. (True, one can fly to Libya, world champion of extreme heat, but you would not have the renowned safety of an American National Park.)

For us, unwilling to dehydrate, January was the best time to camp in Death Valley. Texas Springs Campground was nicely located about a mile from the Furnace Creek Park Headquarters, grocery store and perhaps the most expensive gasoline in North America.

That was balanced nicely by the price of the campsite, $7.00 with GOLDEN AGE PASSPORT. Truly one of the great bargains in a nation that seems to have fewer and fewer bargains on this side of the Economic Divide.

Former Interior Secretary Gale ("Marie Antoinette") Norton suggested that now that my age cohorts were getting on in years, we would prefer sleeping in a motor home or luxury hotel and the National Park Service should Go with the Flow and reduce tent camping in the National Parks.

That is not necessarily so, Gale. From our tent site, we could see the lights of the fabled Furnace Creek Inn. Rooms are 300 dollars a night, but they have great food. (Not included.) As for the motor home, I am dangerous enough without navigating a road barn down the highway.

Then there are the aesthetics: If it promises to be a clear night, you can leave the rain fly off and watch the stars through the mosquito netting. You can listen to the laughter of the coyotes as they respond to the punch line of some cosmic joke.

Finally, Joan does not abide hotel or motel beds. Always too soft. According to Joan, nothing beats a THERMOREST pad and a sleeping bag.

So, Gale, you take The Furnace Creek Inn and we'll do the seven days in Texas Springs Campground and we'll all be happy, just like Steven Mather planned.

Yes, thanks to Orwell's hard men and women, this time of the National Park Service, we would sleep safely and soundly. There might be only one of them out there in the darkness, attached to the electronic umbilical cord of the Dispatcher, but they would be out there.

Now was it necessary that someone stays awake, alert and vigilant while I fell asleep listening to coyotes?

Yes it is. The National Parks and wilderness areas have a strange attraction for apocalyptic cults and the mentally ill who can unravel with potentially terrifying results for both park patrons and park rangers

Over the years, the NPS has been forced to deal with various unstable outfits as The Church Universal and Triumphant (Yellowstone), Papa Pilgrim Family (Wrangell-St.Elias), SYNANON (Point Reyes NSS), and of course, The Manson Family (Death Valley). These groups operated near national parks or in private in holdings in the parks)

Of all the cults, the Manson Family was by far the most dangerous. Prior to visiting Death Valley, your editor picked up a copy of DESERT SHADOWS, a fascinating paperback detailing the story of the Manson Family activities in Death Valley, by Bob Murphy, superintendent of Death Valley National Monument at the time.

The story begins with a seemingly pointless act of vandalism, the destruction of an expensive piece of NPS road maintenance equipment, with pieces of the puzzle being slowly put together by Ranger Richard (Dick) Powell, (ably assisted by his uncommissioned, but undaunted wife, Sheila) and climaxing in the capture of Manson and most of his disciples at the Barker Ranch in a raid led by Ranger Powell.

Both Powell and State Trooper Purcell, who pulled Manson from his hiding place, turned down the $25,000 reward, saying that "it was just part of the job." (Superintendent Murphy politely disagreed, stating that Powell had put in many hours of overtime on the case.)

According to Bob Murphy, "Manson noticed the ranger uniforms, and asked, 'How come you guys are hassling me? You should be out telling people about the flowers and the animals!' He could understand how the CHP and the Sheriff's deputies arresting him, but he thought it inappropriate for park rangers to be involved."

Therein, neighbors, lies a continuing safety problem. Although NPS rangers are perhaps the best all around law enforcement group in North America, their renown has not made its way to the criminal class or to certain of the mentally ill.

How does one make known that yes, indeed, there is law enforcement in the Wilderness without appearing heavy handed.

As this is a safety issue, I decided to discuss this in an interview with the Chief of Risk Management for the NPS in the Washington Office in issue #292.

READERS' COMMENTS

It seems that issue #290 hit a number of hot buttons. Normally, for privacy reasons , I don't identify our responders, but some felt sufficiently strongly about a favorite issue that they preferred to be identified by their real handle.

One of these was Ron Mackie, late of Yosemite National Park, who commented on the article about unpaid volunteers with the following:

Dear PJ,
As is always the case, I enjoyed your latest issue of THUNDERBEAR (#290)
I was very interested in your commentary on the NPS Volunteer in the Park Program.
First, I must say that I support the concept of true volunteerism, be it for a political candidate, cleaning a section of highway, hosting a campground etc. but I must admit that I am concerned about the extent to which I see volunteers being used both in parks and other public lands. I noticed one VIP campground host couple managing a campground in a major western National Park on a full time basis this last summer.
These VIPs were assigning sites, calling in emergencies, patrolling to see if fees wee being paid, giving warnings about misconduct, not just NPS regulations, but some of their own, etc.
Bottom line, they were excellent people, fulfilling a full time and arduous job with little or no supervision, not much of a "thank you" and no pay, just for a free campsite.
In my own opinion this is an unacceptable management practice and appears to be in direct violation of the Fair Labor Standards Act. I was even more perturbed to read the quote in THUNDERBEAR of the NPS Interpretive Chief who basically stated that anyone interested in a position as park interpreter "Would need to intern for one full season before they could be evaluated for a paid position." I might suggest this person submit to the same criteria when considered for his/her next promotion; i.e. they intern for a year without pay for evaluation purposes before they get the promotion and the checks start coming in again.
This person's statement is simply outrageous. I believe this action is unlawful and should Be stopped!
PJ thanks for the thought provoking and right on article.
Sincerely,

Ron Mackie

Those campground hosts sound like living jewels and I suspect that unscrupulous NPS managers will be badgering you for their names and address so they can "hire" them for their park!

These VIP's exhibit the tireless enthusiasm and devotion to duty that George Washington and Thomas Jefferson always looked for in the "help" on their plantations, but alas! never found. The 13th and 14th Amendments put an end to that particular program.

You are quite correct; there are places for VIPs in the NPS. One would be skilled cultural or historic demonstrations that would required specialized personnel, such as quilt making, furniture making, weaving, rifle making, and so on. Former superintendent Roger Siglin suggested that VIP's should be trained and used for interesting natural resource work rather than repetitive scut work. Roger suggested that the criterion for the work would be is it something that YOU would like to do.

As Ron points out, using VIP experience as a criteria for selection for paid employment is basically the sale of a government job, which is illegal, no matter how thickly veiled the wink and nudge about how to perform the bribery. In addition, a sort of class war situation is set up in which those who have rich and doting parents to support them through various cycles of unpaid VIP work in various parks will have an edge over the working poor, that is, the rest of us.

Finally, there is the internal morale problem. The Law Enforcement/Protection wing of the NPS is forbidden by law to use VIP's. Its employees must be paid and are de facto, professional. Other branches of the NPS, such as the Interpretive Division may use VIP's "to take up the budget slack" and thus staff public contact positions with retirees, "wannabees," drifters, and people whose psychiatrists have suggested that they volunteer for a public agency in order to feel better.

It is understandable that the Protection Division of the NPS might feel that it is more the "adult" or "professional" wing of the NPS.

Another commentator was a fellow editor. (THE NATIONAL PARK TRAVELER) and long time reader, Kurt Rapanshek.

Well now, Kurt, that's very flattering! I can see doing a column of around 700 words once or twice a month for THE TRAVELER.

We'll call the column "A View from the Overlook." You will notice that it is not "The view," but simply and humbly, "A view," one of many opinions available from looking at the same situation.

The reason for the title is that you will be getting indignant letters from your readers stating, "PJ does not speak for the National Park Service!"

SMOKEY BEAR AND JESUS

MARSHALL OBAMA

MAGICAL DAY

THE SAFETY MESSAGE: THE THIN GREEN LINE

READERS' COMMENTS

Return HOME

© Copyright 2012 by P. J. Ryan, all rights reserved.
PJ Ryan can be reached at:
thunderbear123@gmail.com.

SMOKEY BEAR AND JESUS

MARSHALL OBAMA

MAGICAL DAY

THE SAFETY MESSAGE: THE THIN GREEN LINE

READERS' COMMENTS

Return HOME

© Copyright 2012 by P. J. Ryan, all rights reserved. PJ Ryan can be reached at: thunderbear123@gmail.com.

© Copyright 2012 by P. J. Ryan, all rights reserved.
PJ Ryan can be reached at:
thunderbear123@gmail.com.