Our Meeting with the Forest Supervisor

Forest Supervisor’s Office, Inyo National Forest, CA – 1972

In that summer of 1972, there were three of us wilderness rangers in the Mt. Whitney Ranger District. John Thomas Lansaw, who went by Tom, patrolled the Mt. Whitney trail. Jeff Boyer had my old job hiking the Cottonwood Lakes Basin. And I was in the California Bighorn Sheep Zoological Area. Our boss was Ernie DeGraff.

At the beginning of summer we were shot down by Ernie when we asked him if we could wear hiking shorts.  His rationale? What if there was a forest fire? We wouldn’t be safe in shorts. Our answer? We’ll carry a pair of long pants in our backpacks and change out of shorts if needed.

Ernie’s answer, “No!”

We didn’t like it, but he was our boss. We were about the only backpackers wearing long pants.

Towards the middle of summer we got a new forest supervisor for the Inyo National Forest. His name was Everett Towle.

Supervisor Towle wanted to meet with all the wilderness staff on his forest. This meant that Tom, Jeff, Ernie, and I headed up together for a day at headquarters in Bishop. Also at the meeting was staff from the White Mountain Ranger District.

Ernie was nervous before the “big” meeting. He told us he wanted to make a good impression on the new forest supervisor. We were to be on our best behavior.

“10-4 Ernie,” we all said in unison.

“I don’t want you complaining about wages,” he said looking right at me.

“10-4 Ernie,” we said in unison, although with less enthusiasm.

“And finally I want you all cleaned up. Get haircuts, trim mustaches (to me), and no beards (to Tom),” added Ernie.

“Oh crap Ernie. Really?” asked Tom.

Ernie just nodded and said no more. We three cleaned ourselves up; probably clogging up the sink in our barracks. That next day we were all ready in clean clothes and fresh uniform shirt to meet Supervisor Towell. We were soon to learn that Ernie did it to us again.

We left Lone Pine at 6:30 am to make our meeting in Bishop and showed up in the conference room right on time. Supervisor Everett Towle was extremely personable and friendly. This means a lot to a seasonal employee. He went around the room and asked all of the wilderness rangers and their supervisors to fill him in with what was happening in the John Muir Wilderness.

Then it was time for Ernie’s presentation. Ernie talked about the number of miles of trail maintained and the number of burlap bags of trash collected and packed out of the wilderness. Jeff, Tom, and I started biting our tongues and squirming a little in our seats as he continued his spiel.

The previous year we had done a great job maintaining the trails because we had a roving, two-man trail maintenance crew with a pack horse and burro. Thus our trails this season were in excellent shape.

The summer before, especially in the Cottonwood Lakes Basin, I had collected nearly two hundred burlap bags of trash that were packed out by horse and mule. The reason we had so much was I found old trash dumps from the early and mid 1900’s. In those days it was accepted practice to bury, not pack out your trash.

As an aside, we probably removed a lot of historical items in the quest to remove trash. When was the last time you could buy Log Cabin brand syrup in a tin can shaped like a log cabin? I found and packed out at least fifty of those old relics alone in 1971.

The reason we were a little fidgety in our chairs was that Ernie had inflated our figures for this season. He pro-rated what we had done in 1971, and estimated a ten percent increase in our trail maintenance and trash pickup. In truth, there wasn’t much trash left to pack out and remove. We’d already cleaned up the big caches.

Supervisor Towle was very observant. Whether it was the three of us looking at each other and whispering, or maybe just the “deer caught in the headlights” look on our faces, he interrupted Ernie. “I’d like to hear from the wilderness rangers themselves since they’re on the front lines.”

Jeff Boyer started by explaining how hard it was to find trash after I had found most of the trash locations in the Cottonwood Lakes Basin the previous summer. So this season he was spending most of his time with public contacts.

When Tom Lansaw’s turn came up next, he explained an interesting informal case study that he and I conducted on the Mt. Whitney Trail at Trail Camp. Trail Camp is located at 12,000 feet and is the last practical camp on the east side before reaching the summit of Mt. Whitney. That 4th of July weekend, Ernie send me up to work with Tom over the busy weekend. This was before the Forest Service had gone to a lottery system to limit use hiking use on this trail.

Tom was tired of picking up all the backpacker litter left behind at Trail Camp; high above the treeline in a small pocket of alpine tundra set between granite walls and boulders. Every Sunday, he would hike up from his base camp at Outpost Camp just below Mirror Lake. This was the day when the majority of backpackers would be headed back down the trail to their vehicles at the Whitney Portal trailhead. Tom would pick up and bag all the trash left behind.

Tom had an idea. He and I would hike up to Trail Camp late afternoon on a Saturday. In front of all the campers, with their tents literally pitched side-by-side, the two of us would make a big show of picking up and bagging the trash we found. We knew that these hikers, seeing us picking up previous littering, would either be shamed into packing out their own trash, or would take their trash with them when they left after seeing what a physical chore it was for the two of us. It was a brilliant plan. One that could not fail.

Tom and I had a good dinner that night and an even better breakfast. Not because of the freeze-dried foods or packets of instant oatmeal, but how we talked about the problem being solved. We both looked forward to our trek back up to Trail Camp that Sunday afternoon.

Tom then explained to Towle the result, “Jon and I got up to Trail Camp that afternoon after the backpackers had packed up and left. There in front of almost each spot a tent had been erected, was now a neat and tidy small pile of trash. The hikers, seeing us picking up the litter, had collectively decided to place their trash in small piles rather than pack it out. ” Tom continued, “I guess they thought they were doing us a favor. That this would make it easier for us!”

Tom was now on a roll. Before Ernie could stop him, he told the story of the “Odyssey of Baby Homer”.

With so much use of the Mt. Whitney Trail, along with the rockiness and steepness, certain restrictions had been enacted by the Forest Service. Campfires were prohibited both due to lack of fuelwood and to the impact of campfire rings on the fragile vegetation and soils. Horses and pack stock was prohibited due to the rocky trail and concentration of so many hikers on an often very exposed trail and effect of overgrazing.

As seasonal wilderness rangers we could issue citations for minor violations such as illegal campfires, littering, and the cutting of switchbacks on trails. It was the end of June, while Tom was at his camp one night, he recognized a glow against the far wall that could only come from a campfire.

Tom walked into the camp and was startled by what he saw. There was a large campfire burning. And not only that, there was a Shetland pony and a goat grazing nearby.

Tom said he had a hard time controlling his anger with so many flagrant violations in front of him. He strode into what was literally a “hippie” camp. He loudly introduced himself as a wilderness ranger and began telling them of all their violations. One of the men with the group interrupted Tom and softly spoke, “But we have a reason.”

“I was totally speechless,” said Tom. “It was one of those moments in your life where you see something, but you know it can’t be true. That it can’t be happening. Especially in the wilderness.”

“We’re boiling water right now,” continued the man. “Can you help us?”

So Tom Lansaw washed his hands and rolled up his shirtsleeves. The pony had been for the woman to ride. The goat was there to provide milk. That night he helped to deliver the baby named Homer into the world. He also helped the father after he fainted during the birthing.

Afterwards he heard the rest of the story. The family, with their friends, had purposely planned to have their baby in the wilderness. Only they hoped to be somewhere on the John Muir Trail, not three miles up the Mt. Whitney Trail. Probably the altitude and other events made Homer decide to make an earlier appearance.

The family told Tom they’d probably need to stay a few more days before they could move and continue their journey. Their final destination was Yosemite Valley.

Then Tom told the part of the story Ernie didn’t want the forest supervisor to hear.

When Tom got down to the ranger station he told all of us his story. Ernie asked him if he had written any tickets for the fire or the horse or goat? He told him that he hadn’t. So then Ernie told him he needed to do so when he hiked back up. Tom told Ernie that he would not write them any tickets.

So Ernie hiked up to Outpost Camp with the intention of issuing several citations to Homer’s parents and friends.  Tom told Ernie that he’d wait for him at his camp.

About an hour later Ernie hiked over to Tom’s tent. “You win,” said Ernie. “I walked into their camp and there was the mother sitting up breastfeeding her baby. She was surrounded by willows and there was this shaft of sunlight hitting her smiling face. She looked like the Madonna and child. I couldn’t write a ticket either.”

Lastly, Tom told Everett Towle that the Mt. Whitney Trail didn’t really fit in with the rest of the John Muir Wilderness. He then told of some of the trail users he met,

“One man was trying to push a wheelbarrow up the trail with food and sleeping gear. Another man’s backpack was a newspaper bag (for those too young to remember – it was a light canvas bag one wore over one’s head like a vest with an opening in front and in the back to carry newspapers). One woman in her 70’s carried a light weight lawn chair. She would hike the trail a ways, stop to open up the chair, and sit down and rest. One man had read Ryback’s book (The High Adventure of Eric Ryback) about hiking the Pacific Crest Trail and was trying to hike all the John Muir Trail while carrying over 100 pounds. He was barely making one mile a day. All of these people I tried to talk into turning back.”

The forest supervisor then turned to me and asked for my perspective. I told him our goal should not be more bags of trash packed out like a quota system. Our goal should be to never have to pick up another piece of litter. I explained that our emphasis should be on educating the users, not taking care of the problem after they leave. I said that I noticed a lot of backcountry users needed to be taught proper wilderness etiquette (later to be known as low impact camping).

Then I told two stories how outside influences such as magazine articles and trail guide books can affect wilderness management.

The Horseshoe Meadows road leading to the Cottonwood Lakes Basin trailhead was not well known in 1969. The following year WESTWAYS Magazine, published by the Southern California Automobile Club, had an article in their section “Let’s Explore A Byway”, about this very road. That next weekend following the article, where normally two to three vehicles would be found, now had ninety-six cars parked at the road end.

In 1971, when Ernie had me patrolling the Kearsarge Pass area, I met a backpacker who started asking me about some lesser known trails or knapsack routes in the southern Sierra Nevada. He asked about some routes in the Sequoia-Kings Canyon National Park. I told him that wasn’t my patrol area. I was strictly a Forest Service wilderness ranger and he’d have to talk with the park rangers.

He then asked if I knew anything about the Cottonwood Lakes Basin. I told him that was actually my assigned area and I had hiked all over the basin.

“Is there any other trail up into the basin other than the main trail,” he asked me.

“Yes,” I answered. “There’s a fisherman’s trail that parallels the creek.”

He pulled out a topographic map which showed this area. I drew the route in pencil on his map then asked him,”That’s a long ways from here. Are you going to hike all these trails this trip?”

“Oh no,” he replied. “Let me introduce myself. My name is Thomas Winnett. I am the publisher of Wilderness Press. I printed the books ‘Sierra South’ and ‘Sierra North’.”

That next summer I switched with Jeff Boyer for  a week so he could see some of the bighorn sheep country and I could revisit the Cottonwood Lakes. I decided to hike in using the old, faint fishing trail. I kept running into several hikers on this trail. I finally asked one how he knew about this trail.

“I read it in a trail guide,” he said. “Here. I have it with me.”

Out of his backpack he pulled the newest version of “Sierra South” and showed me. There it was – the fisher trail information I had given to Winnett.

Everett Towle thanked all of us for our insights and honesty. He praised us and explained that for the majority of wilderness users we were probably the only Forest Service personnel they would ever have contact. He stressed how very important it was for us to educate the users both through verbal communication as well as personal example. He encouraged us to use backpack stoves and not campfires, wash our pots and pans away from streams and lakes, and select campsites when available in already impacted sites. And then he hit us with the clincher.

“Look at the wilderness user,” he continued. “they are predominantly young and often have long hair and beards. If any of you wish to grow out your hair and grow beards you’ll be more like our clientele. I highly encourage it. And then maybe they’ll be more receptive to you. Thank you all for what you have done and for what you do.”

All three of us simultaneously turned and just stared at Ernie. I think Tom Lansaw even rubbed his now closely shaven face that still showed razor nicks. So we three, young, clean cut wilderness rangers went to Pizza Hut and made Ernie buy us lunch. Each of us individually ordered a large pizza. And while we ate Ernie said, “Well, I think that meeting went well.”