More Backountry Maintenance

I spent the first three days of this week hiking up into Desolation Wilderness to volunteer for the US Forest Service--cleaning up campsites, removing illegal fire rings, and generally making my presence known to hikers in the backcountry--letting them know that someone cares. and is paying attention.

The vast majority of hikers I met were friendly and law-abiding---many even offered to help carry out trash for me. It was lovely to meet so many people who believed in what the wilderness stands for, and actively not only enjoy it, but support, promote, and protect it. I met thru-hikers doing the PCT and TRT, I met dayhikers up from Echo Lakes, I met trailrunners racking up the miles, and backpackers in for a night, three nights, or more. And they were all really nice.

But then there was the one exception. A group of young guys who were jumping of a cliff into Lake Aloha and hooting and hollering loud enough that the sound carried to the far side of the lake and beyond. Meh--just young guys letting of steam and having fun. But I did hear a couple of people complain about the noise.

The next morning I ran into three of them as they were fishing. I chatted a bit (not a fish in sight--just like everyone else I had met fishing) and I took the opportunity to remind them of the rules on their permit---camp 100 feet from water, and no fires. Nice kids.

They assured me their campsite was "pretty close to that." But as we walked along chatting, we arrived at their site. It was less than twenty feet from the lake. I didn't make a big issue out of it (I'm a volunteer with no authority--required to avoid confrontation, and prohitied from anything even close to enforcement) so I merely suggested that when they leave, they could do me a favor by tossing rocks and logs over the site, so that others wouldn't make the same mistake. They assured me they would, and I left thinking all was good.

At the end of a long day I passed by the site on my way back to my camp, and noticed a few fluttering pieces of toilet paper on the ground, as if someone had dropped them. I chased them down in the wind, only to discover more of them--some of them obviously used.

And then I found their toilet--far too close to water, covered with used TP, and with human waste obviously unburied.

That was the last hour of my second day--cleaning up the area. And I have to say that it took the charm right off meeting those young guys. At least the work gave me a way to use up some of the anger.

On my third day, I hiked out and stayed for a while at the trailhead, talking to hikers, answering questions, and providing what advice or suggestions I could. Over the three days I met and talked to nearly four hundred people. And I still have a bad taste in my mouth from the five who left a mess.