I mentally prepared myself for...

The worst for my gig as an Ice Lake Trail Educational Ranger. My  assignment would be talking up “Leave No Trace” Conservation Ethics to hordes of hikers. 

FYI. Ice Lake is the most popular and populated trail in the entire San Juan National Forest. 

A few days prior to me “going live” I attended a San Juan Mountain Association volunteer meeting. (I’m a dues paying member of this feel good non-profit organization.) The informercial took place at Happy Hour in the SJMA parking lot. All attendees were masked up and socially distanced. Naturally, I brought a six-pack of IPAs to share with my fellow stewards of the land.  

The cooler was socially distanced too.

I had one taker. Tough crowd. 

Three SJMA staff members gave three distinct point of views on crowd control on our public lands. The one factoid I gleaned was this. Ice Lake was scoring 500-800 visitors/day on a sub-8 mile (round trip), 2400’ elevation gain (one way) trail. That’s a lot of Facebook selfies. Of course the gorilla in the corner was Covid and political divisiveness. I walked away with more questions and concerns than answers. However after 28 years of being in emergency services, I know there are times you have to shrug your shoulders and wing it. 

I arrived around 7:30ish to a nearly full parking lot. In the time it took me to fuss with my backpack and gear, the parking lot was in overflow status. I donned my green SJMA baseball cap and a gray US Forest Service volunteer t-shirt. It wasn’t a uniform that screamed, “You will respect my authority!” (Quote from Cartman of “South Park” fame.)

I headed up the trail. The sky was shockingly blue. The temperature was hovering in the perfect zone.

Armed with my avid imagination, I figured the trail would look like Mile High Stadium after a Broncos overtime win. I noticed a few discarded doggy poop bags and one crumpled can. I’ve seen worse. Most of the hikers I passed had “game on” for Colorado’s fickle mountain weather. (Bulging backpacks with water, food, rain gear and dry, warm clothes.) The early hikers are usually “in the know.” This wasn’t their first rodeo. 

Generally speaking, it’s the late starters, who are ill prepared on what might lie ahead. The give away is their I Phone in hand. I suppose they have an “app” for food, water, shelter and warm, dry clothes. 

My hike up was uneventful. Mostly I was saying a masked “Good Morning!” Every now and then, I’d perform a welfare check on folks. Fortunately, all seemed conscious, oriented and alert. At Ice Lake, (elevation 12,260’) the crowd was subdued. It was as if they had arrived within a Cathedral. (Which in fact they did, just one without walls or religious guilt.) I took my lunch in an out of the way place. Afterwards, I turned downhill. 

The uphill crowd was thicker than hours ago. Many were hiking with their four-legged friends. About 50% had their hound tethered to them. I sincerely thanked them for this curtesy. Other pooches walked in lockstep with their owners. I thanked those dog lovers for training such a well behaved canine. Then their were the troublemakers. The Bowsers who were ranging far and wide from their owners. They were looking for mischief. To these owners, I’d say, “Excuse me. I’m Jeff, I’m a volunteer for the Forest Service and a local mountain loving conservation organization. I believe your dog might be harassing the wildlife.”

Most were cool, and immediately leashed their wandering dogs. One woman asked me so innocently, “There’s wildlife here? What kind?” 

Outstanding! I had an audience.I ascended my invisible podium. “Well, there’s ground squirrels, chipmunks, deer, marmots, lots of birds and my favorite-the American Pika.” (I was working the patriotic angle here.) Next she asked, “What’s an American Pika?” I began to warm up to my roll, “American Pikas are arguably one of the most adorable mammals in our Great Nation. They are the size of your fist, tawny gray in color, with little round ears and no tail. They live above tree line where you are heading. They are hard working vegetarian farmers. True salt of the Earth animals. This is their time to “make hay while the sunshine’s” They’ll feed on their harvest throughout the winter months. If your dog chases them, that’s less time for them do their chores. You wouldn’t want to be responsible for a winter starved mild mannered rodent. Would you?” 

She called her dog and leashed him. “Sorry! I wasn’t aware. I totally understand. Thanks for the explanation.” I was smiling behind my mask. “Score!”

I went back up to Ice Lake the following day. I disassembled a few fire rings (blazes are verboten in the Ice Lake corridor) and picked up some detritus. I did some bonus elevation and miles to nearby Island Lake. I made more contacts with my emphasis on making recommendations to the bevy of backpackers. I kindly asked them to make camp in the lower basin among the trees. I explained it this way. “The above tree line tundra is deceptively fragile. Camping upon it, might cause resource damage. Besides, we’ve been getting afternoon thunderstorms. Your shelter has lightning rod aluminum poles! One more thing to consider, your tent might photo bomb someone’s Facebook selfie.”  That last point got their attention. Many nodded in agreement.

Score II.

All in all, I felt the experience was a positive one for me and hopefully for some visitors. I was thanked more than once for being “out here.”

Alas, in our time of Covid, I’m hesitant to partake in this gig again. Many guests come from the Virus “hot spot“ states of New Mexico, Arizona and Texas. At times the trail is quite narrow with  no place to get aside in an appropriate socially distanced  manner. Masks like mine were the exception instead of the rule. At my age of 65, the cost/risk benefit is too high. 

With Merica’s body count soaring, I’m more than concerned. I don’t want to contract Covid. It would put a major damper on my hiking and Happy Hours. I’ll surely volunteer again in the post-Covid effective vaccine future. (Whenever that may be).

Last photo: If people overcrowding weren’t enough, there’s llama jams on the Ice Lake Trail too.

Stay safe, sort of sane and healthy,

Jeff