Sunday, February 2, 2014

One of the perks of working in a National Park is that I get to drive onto closed roads.

Not all of them.  I know the combination to get into the Shoshone Point road, but I am not allowed to use it.  Either this indicates that they trust me, or that they are messing with me.

In any case, I know the code for the West Rim Drive, and I can legally drive around the barrier to the South Kaibab Trailhead.  Parking for the SK is really limited, so it used to be open for public parking only during the winter.  Then the powers-that-be noticed that when the trailhead was so open, the search and rescue calls more than doubled.  I suppose if a hapless hiker wanders down the Bright Angel Trail, there is water, and emergency phones, and often a Ranger or two.  If one haplessly wanders down the SK, there is no water, one emergency phone four and a half miles down, and usually no Rangers.  Just other hapless hikers.  So they closed it all year. Except for those of us who live and work in the Park.  Hoping against hope that if someone has to be organized enough to take a shuttle bus to a trailhead, they are organized enough to carry a few frivolous items like water, food, and a flashlight.

The problem is, if I scoot around the barrier, someone often follows me.  The barrier is just a gate that closes off half the road.  Shuttle busses tootle in and out of this road all the time, and there is no power source for a number pad control for a gate.

So one drives onto the wrong side of the road to get around a gate which has a sign proclaiming that this road is indeed closed to traffic, that only residents and official vehicles are allowed therein, and please take the free shuttle bus.  Most people turn around.  Some don't.  Several follow me.

So what exactly is the reasoning here?  If she is breaking the law, so can I? They'll ticket her first, and while they are writing the citation, I'll get away?  There is safety in numbers, and they can't catch us all?

I've tried that last one before while waiting for the dining hall to open at Phantom Ranch.  I say, "There are forty of us and only one of her.  She can't stop us all!"  No one ever takes me up on it.

I tell people who do follow me that unless they have a sticker like this one (pointing at my visual aid), they are not allowed to park here.  "Oh," they usually answer.  "I didn't see a sign."  No, you just drove around a barrier.

Often the hikers who took the shuttle in give me a dirty look.  Sometimes they will walk over and say, "I didn't think you were allowed to drive in here," at which point I answer, "Well, you aren't.  But I am."  Then I show them the stickers on the windshields of the Phantom workers who park there, and the Rangers who park there.  Once an educator, always an educator.

Some of the Rangers make a point of putting a warning sticker on illegal cars.  It is just a warning: they don't have the personnel to ticket and fine people.  Though I think it would pay for itself.  Back in the day, cars were towed.  When one obtained a backcountry permit, they wrote down the licence plate.  If the plate at the trailhead was not on the permit, and was there overnight, it was towed.  After one of the periodic rock slides on the Grandview Trail, it was closed for repairs.  My college roommate zipped up there to hike in illegally, and when she came out, surprise!  Her car had been towed.  Really, what did she expect?

When I have extra time and am in the mood, I put my own warning tags on cars.  They are printed on bright pink paper, so they look official, and say, "There is no parking at this trailhead.  Please take the shuttle bus, or park at Pipe Creek Overlook".  I hope it gives them a jolt when they see the colored tag, but I know it does no good.  It makes me feel a little better, though, so I suppose it is worth it.  We don't have television up here, after all.  We have to entertain ourselves somehow.
Abandon all hope, Rraawk!


No comments: