My day begins with a 40 mile commute into the heart of the Columbia River Gorge. On my early start days, I'm treated to the sun valiantly trying to shine through the fog that covers the river and cliffs every morning, creating a back glow that highlights the height of the cliffs, the greenness of the trees, the darkness of the morning river.
My work day begins with a short, quiet hike down to the day use area, uphill and down, and I see the blue sky peeking above the receding fog. By lunch time, it will be another perfect, cloudless day. This morning walk has never failed to make me breathe deeper, to settle my thoughts and calm whatever stress I carried with me to work, so I can focus on the projects of the day. I walk through "snowing" cottonwoods, large pine trees unmoved for a century or more, but most barely older than me. I notice that while at my house the blackberries are already fat and bursting with juice, the bushes at our park are barely fruiting and won't be ready to pick for a month yet. I watch the bold Stellar's Jays hop hopefully around the campsites, snatching up stray bits of food before the squirrels can.
I go over the projects of the day, basic daily tasks and random projects alike. I've learned that working in a busy campground is a mixture of being fantastically busy, and having projects to do but being unable to complete them. If there are campers in a site, nothing can be done there, such as landscaping or mowing or repainting or fixing outlets.
Anything that requires a loud motor, such as the mowing, pressure washing, or the backpack blower, can't really be done early in the morning, because who wants to wake up to the sound of a mower on your vacation? We've hit our busy season, and every night for weeks every campsite has been full, usually by 3pm. The question I answer the most is where other campgrounds are and how to find them.
I've found that, for the most part, cleaning bathrooms in this green and tan uniform can be fun, even if the blue medical gloves do clash a bit. Processing money at the end of the day is weirdly soothing, locked in the quiet of the office, following the same set procedure and dealing with problems as they crop up, checking passes and explaining different fees for different times of the year. It took me about a week to get a hang of it, but now it's one of my favorite parts of the morning shift. But really, I wish my entire job consisted of driving the park Gators around, since on hot days it can be the only breeze, and well, they are awesomely fun to drive. (At a perfectly safe and sane speed limit, of course!)
Working at this campground is an interesting mix of total independence and teamwork. Two days a week I work the morning shift completely alone save for the volunteer hosts, and I have to figure out what needs to be done and when. Three days I work with a small team of three other rangers, Tracy, the other seasonal for Ainsworth, Jamen who is replacing another ranger on medical leave and whom I'm the replacement for, and occasionally trail ranger Cassie. There are two pairs of volunteer hosts who live here, mainly to pick up trash, run the Junior Ranger program, sell firewood, and answer many, many, many visitor questions.
One couple, Harry and Drina, I heard stories about before they even reached the campground. Tracy had worked with them before, and told me this story when she knew they were coming back this year:
"Harry and Drina are professional Shriner's clowns, and Harry was a jump master, with about a thousand professional sky dives under his belt. One time, Harry was paid a few thousand bucks and all expenses paid trip to Mexico, and he jumped out of a plane dressed as a Mexican pirate, complete with fake sword between his teeth and eye patch, and landed in the Sea of Cortez for a movie!"
Drina is usually standing next to Harry as he tells some long-winded yet always amusing or eyebrow raising story, telling everyone that she "Can't take him anywhere!" They are retired now, and they live about a mile from where I went to elementary school in Arizona. Retirement is an excuse for them to host at various campgrounds around Oregon for the summer, visiting every rodeo and brew fest nearby. This gives Harry even more conversation fodder, including the taste and occasionally strangeness of local Oregon beers, including anything put together by Voodoo Donuts.
Our other hosts are an equally amusing, equally as talkative gay couple, Kevin and Mason, one of whom is working on a thesis for his masters, focusing on current RV culture, both travelers and people who live in RV's full time. They come equipped with a sweet black lab, Cassie, and the snortiest black pug ever. I don't remember the pug's name, because I'm always too busy snorgalling him when he's out for his walks.
We all share the kind of humor that, as a current State of Oregon employee, I cannot admit exists at the workplace, but which helps brighten the few boring bits of the day, including squashing the six of us into a Ford truck for the ride to Rooster Rock for the monthly safety meeting. And for today as well, when night ranger Jamen left a note for me this morning, asking me to use the leaf blower to clean the campsite pads of dirt and debris. Instead, trail ranger extraordinaire Cassie stole both the park's leaf blowers, so I was reduced to first century BC technology to get the jump done: Ladies and gentlemen, the push broom!
All things considered (including what job I happen to find for the "off season") rangering is definitely a career that I could (and to some extent already have) devoted myself to, which will allow Kade and I, in a few years and with some luck and good references, to live comfortably, with soccer camp and possibly a horse or two, with the added bonus that I love my job instead of survive it!
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