Ranger Rick and his big dog dick...

[AllYouCanEat]

I just wanted to hear some classic ranger stories. I've met some cool rangers and so if there are any CC'ers who are add your stupid climber/hiker stories. I don't want to gang up on you too much.

To begin, here is one of mine. I was camping at Summerland, planning on climbing/skiing Little Tahoma the following day. The weather was superb! As good as the weather was, the snow was even better, with 10 feet or more on the ground. My brother and I set-up camp and were hanging out. Next thing I know, here comes this ranger and she was angry as hell. "Why are you camping there?" "What," I say. She angerly responds, "You need to be camping in a designated camping spot!" What the heck. She pointed to a presumed camping spot, beneath a snow drift, under a tree, under 10-ft of snow. I shit you not! Then she asks what we were skiing and I said little T. She then asked if we had a permit to go above 10,000-ft. "No." She then asked my name, address, and phone number. I put on my skis, my pack, and headed for the car. I wasn't going to deal with that crap. I skied almost all the way to the car...

[W]

oh god...

I used to work on the upper mountain for the NPS. How long ago was this incident? I have a very distinct idea in my mind who the ranger you met was.

[David_Parker]

I would really like to read the mission statement for the National Park Service. I would think it would contain words like courteous, helpful, accurate, information, enforcement of regulations, security, maintenance,etc. Perhaps we should, as a group write their mission statement for them!

I had a good experience on the Olympic Coast. After paddling my kayak with my son to second beach near La Push and setting up camp, a ranger came walking down the beach and asked me where my permit was. I said "what permit" and he said didn't you see the sign and registration box at the trailhead. I pointed to my kayak and explained I didn't pass through the trailhead but had paddled from La Push. He informed me I was officially in the National Park. He was really nice and handed me an envelope and asked me to self register. I told him I had no money with me so he said to just fill out the registration and mail in the payment later. I filled out a totally false name and address and said I would. We then had an interesting conversation about his job, the fact he carried a weapon now, and my life as a Dad. He was truly impressed I had kayaked there with my 6 year old. Overall, his attitude was not abrasive, egotistical, or power driven. He did not act like a cop in any way. I think he just enjoyed being in the great outdoors like you and me and was greatful to have a job that allowed such. How refreshing!

Hey AYCE, as hard as it may be, just be the bigger person and be extra nice and appologetic back. If she asks for your name, phone etc, just give her bogus info. Everyone should have an alias firmly implanted in your brain for such occasions. Then it comes out naturally without anyone suspecting its bogus. For names you shouldn't use, ask Dr. Jay or Erik !!!

[Colin]

W

Hey Dubya.

This is Colin.

Send me an e-mail:

colinhaley@attbi.com

[Dru]

When I snuck into the Enchantments on an overnight trip with a daypass, I filled out my day pass in the name of, and was ready to tell any rangers I might meet that my name was, Ray Borbon!

[CleeshterFeeshter]

You want a Ranger story!

I was downclimbing one of the narrow chutes/boulder fields that gain the bottom of the Black Canyon of the Gunnison (almost directly below the Painted Wall) . My goal was to fish the Gunnison river as the area thru the Canyon is truly a Blue Ribbon trout stream. I descended to the bottom and (end of May 1987 after spring semester classes were out) saw a single nekid lovely female sun bathing on a rock - The bottom of the canyon is so narrow that I had to go into the river as not to intrude on her "space"-Oh well. SHe saw me and put on her NPS Ranger Garb- We spoke and I fished nearby after apologizing for interrupting- Moral-I spent a week in Crusty Butte,CO hanging out at her place (she was a seasonal NPS employee)and banging our brains out- I love Female Rangers. You need to quit ragging on these guvment people(unless you are from Norf Idaho)

[Bronco]

Dru - you're lucky they didn't arrest you on the spot. That guy is a known felon (breaking and entering WI 3),wanted in 3 states (is canada a state yet?), armed and dangerous (with a cell phone)!!! He has allegedly been a mennace to sport climbers as well!!

[Cpt.Caveman]

quote:

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Originally posted by Dru:

When I snuck into the Enchantments on an overnight trip with a daypass, I filled out my day pass in the name of, and was ready to tell any rangers I might meet that my name was, Ray Borbon!

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Watch out if you do that they might arrest you

[Sean_Halling]

I remember this real jerk of a Ranger at the Muir Camp on Rainier. I think his name was Mark something. He had some little Ranger groupie named Mary following him around.

[AlpineK]

I've met Mike G a couple times. He is an example of what all rangers should strive to be.

[Sean_Halling]

Ya, this Mark guy was following Mike around just like Mary followed him around.

[JayB]

quote:

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Originally posted by CleeshterFeeshter:

You want a Ranger story!I was downclimbing one of the narrow chutes/boulder fields that gain the bottom of the Black Canyon of the Gunnison (almost directly below the Painted Wall) . My goal was to fish the Gunnison river as the area thru the Canyon is truly a Blue Ribbon trout stream. I descended to the bottom and (end of May 1987 after spring semester classes were out) saw a single nekid lovely female sun bathing on a rock - The bottom of the canyon is so narrow that I had to go into the river as not to intrude on her "space"-Oh well. SHe saw me and put on her NPS Ranger Garb- We spoke and I fished nearby after apologizing for interrupting- Moral-I spent a week in Crusty Butte,CO hanging out at her place (she was a seasonal NPS employee)and banging our brains out- I love Female Rangers. You need to quit ragging on these guvment people(unless you are from Norf Idaho)

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I, too have a story to tell about hot female rangers and the Black Canyon of the Gunnison, circa 1999. My Best friend and I had descended to the bottom of the Black Canyon to do some fly-fishing as well. Unfortunately the reels got left in the truck, and after much recrimintation and slander passed between us, we spent the next couple of hours watching some awfully smug looking football sized trout cruise past us on their way to engulfing the next salmonfly that drifted past.

After being taunted like this for a the better part of the afternoon we headed back up to the rim of the canyon. The route back to the top consisted of several interwoven gullies, and after I got quite a ways ahead of Matt, I decided I'd climb up on one of the ridges separating the gullies in order to spot him down below. After taking a moment to scan the impressive vista beneath me, I turned my attention to the boulders and knarled pines surrounding me. Of particular interest was the large brown boulder about 50 feet to my left. The entire thing looked to be covered with a dense coating of moss, unlike any of the other rocks in the vicinity. Curious, I squinted in an effort to get my somewhat out of date contacts to focus. As I was focusing I saw a sort of peristaltic wave course beneath the moss. Then the boulder began to rock back and forth for a bit, and eventually it stood up, planted its feet on a nearby rock, and began waving its nose back and forth in the air. It was by far the biggest bear I'd ever seen in my life.

Thankfully the wind was working in my favor, the bear turned it's attention to some blueberry bushes a few feet away, and I was able to scramble behind and eventually up a nearby outcrop. After about 50 feet of low 5th class climing I figured I was safely out of the bear's onsight range (maybe he could have done it after rehearsing on a top rope)and began to turn my attention to Matt. Knowing our luck I was dead certain he'd cruise through the overgrowth (undergrowth that's more than head high) and right into this bear's favorite berry patch. Eventually I saw a disturbance in the bushes working its way up the gully, thankfully to the right of the one the bear's favorite buffet line. After a minute or two the disturbance was within whispering range, and I saw Matt's head pop out of the underbrush.

Matt paused when I gave the obligatory "Pssst!" and scanned his surroundings with a quizzical and somewhat annoyed look on his face. Matt was in a hurry to get back to the top and return to the book he had been reading for the past couple of days, entitled "Mark of the Grizzly: True Stories of Recent Bear Attacks and the Hard Lessons Learned." I naturally did not want to say anything that would unduly alarm Matt, ensconced as he was in a dense thicket of undergbrush with his visibility limited to a few feet. After 0.2 seconds of careful deliberation I followed my "Pssst!" with the word "Bear!" in my best alarm whisper. He froze in mid-stride, leaving one foot aloft for fear of clueing the nearby Grizzly to his presence with so much as another footfall, and turned to me slowly with mouth agape and the eyes of a man peering into the very jaws of hell.

What could I whisper that would let him know that this was not really a grizzly that we were dealing with, just a huge-ass black bear, and that it wasn't really lying in wait just a few strides away, but over the ridge about 150 feet away and sublimely ignorant of and/or indifferent to our presence, lolling about in a bear's paradise of sunshine and blueberries? I know...how about hissing the word "Bear!" once more, and just a bit louder - that should do it. I looked on as he stood there, with one foot still perched above the ground, in a stance roughly akin to the Karate Kid's crane stance, visually scrolling through the compendium of maulings and dismemberment contained within "Mark of the Grizzly" at the speed of light.

Clearly he had the wrong idea. After a second or two of careful deliberation I followed up with "No dude - not by you, over the ridge. Come up here and check it out." The tension spilled from his body like hydrogen out of the Hindenburg and he slumped out of the crane stance. Within a second of his first exhalation in nearly half a minute, his relief was rapidly supplanted by a Vessuvian rage, but thankfully for me he had to contain it for fear of alerting the bear to our hitherto innocuous presence. After watching the bear have its way with a series of unsuspecting blueberry bushes we made our way to the top. The exertion seemed to have a soothing effect on Matt, and we were laughing about the whole thing by the time we checked into the ranger station to let them know about the bear.

Most female rangers I've run into have had the both the looks and the demeanor of an Eastern Block librarian, but as we approached the desk we were nearly levelled by the site of one of the most beautiful women ever to grace a NPS uniform. This was the holy grail that millions of deluded young men naively scour the wilderness for every year. A woman who LIKES being outside in the elements, who will accompany you through all of the travails of the wilderness and will look damned good doing it. Even more astonishing was the fact that the girl next to her seemed to be cast from the same mould. For a moment or two I succeeded in deluding myself into thinking that my newfangled bear story might give me some sort of cachet not posessed by the average dirty, unshaven dude who rolls into the canyon for the weekend. She was excited to hear about the bear, actually, and we had a nice chat about geology and whatnot, but after exhausting these topics it was clear that I was loosing traction and should once again resign myself to my fate, head for the door, repeat Jerry Roach's dictum that "Surfer girl isn't in the mountains." until the symptoms passed and make the long drive home