Tag Archives: Work camping

Jun30

Grow Up

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I went to clean the fire ring on site #6 after the campers left.

In addition to a fire ring, each campsite has a sort of raised grill made from concrete and heavy bars of metal.

On the concrete of the grill on site #6, someone had used a bit of burnt, blackened wood to draw a penis (complete with testicles). I was so mad!

The campers who’d just stayed there were in their late teens or early 20s, but drawing male genitalia in a public space is very immature behavior.

And now I had to clean it up.

Actually, cleaning it wasn’t all that difficult. I sprayed toilet cleaner on it three times (ok, that might have been overkill), then splashed on some water, and the unwanted penis melted away.

Later my co-worker came over to get some information on these very same campers. I’d been on my day off when the campers arrived, so my co-worker had checked them in. She’d forgotten to put some information on the permit and wanted to get it from my reservation sheet.

I told her what they’d done, and we shared some can you believe these people commiseration.

Then I saw on the permit that she’d written the street address of the person who’d made the reservation.

I should write them a letter, I fumed. Ultimately, I decided I’d probably get in trouble for writing them a letter. It’s probably not in my job description to chastise campers for leaving easily washed off graffiti.

But if I had written a letter, this is what I’d have said:

Dear Campers of Site #6,

I found the penis drawing you left on your campsite. Ha. Ha. It was so not funny. What are you, eleven years old? You all appeared to be adults, but at least one of you has the mentality of a naughty child.

Did you think you were going to shock me? You know, I’ve seen drawings of penises before. I’ve seen photographs too. I’ve even seen penises in real life! I was not shocked.

But I was mad! Didn’t you think someone would have to clean off your drawing? Even if I didn’t care about a penis drawn on a campsite (and honestly, I’m not even scandalized), my boss wouldn’t let me leave it there. So even though it wasn’t difficult for me to clean, you were childish to leave a mess you know someone else would have to deal with.

Did you come to the woods to draw penis graffiti? Couldn’t you have done that in the city and saved yourselves some time and gasoline?

I’ve got two words for you, site #6 campers. Grow. Up.

Sincerely,

Your Camp Host

(My biggest regret is that I didn’t take a photo of that penis drawing before I washed it away.)

Jun28

Working Conditions

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These are two signs hanging in my campground:

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How’s that for workplace safety awareness?

My favorite part of the plague warning sign is #1 below.

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How exactly should I avoid animal fleas (other than by not camping, resting, or sleeping near animal burrow)? Should I buy a human size flea collar and fasten it around my neck? Perhaps a better idea would be two large flea collars, one fastened around each ankle. More importantly, is contracting the plague a work-related accident? Will workers’ comp cover that? How about being mauled by a bear? Will workers’ comp cover that?

If I had a shop steward to turn to, you can bet I would be asking these questions.

Jun22

Guess What I Did…

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Guess what I did this morning before breakfast.

Go on, guess.

Ok, I’ll tell you.

This morning before breakfast, I cleaned human feces off restroom walls.

Unless you are extremely squeamish, go ahead and keep reading. I won’t get too graphic, and there are no photos. It’s really not that big of a deal, except it was my first time, and you know, the first time’s always special.

It was before 6:30 this morning when I went to clean the restrooms. It should have just been a sweep and hang (the “hang” referring to adding full rolls of toilet paper to the holder), but when I lifted the lid of the first toilet, I found evidence that someone had experienced some gastrointestinal distress in the night. Bummer. I was going to have to do a little more work than I’d expected, but no huge big deal.

So I swept the floor and put out a new roll of toilet paper. Then I collected cleaners and hauled a bucket of water from the tank on my campsite. I cleaned everything up and moved on.

One might think a camper would have only one bout of explosive diarrhea in one night. One might think that if a camper had more than one bout of explosive diarrhea in one night, the camper would try to keep the mess contained and stick to using one toilet. One would be wrong.

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

When I went into the second restroom, I found signs of gastrointestinal distress on the floor, on the outside of the toilet, on the two walls closest to the toilet. Gag!

But I did my job and cleaned everything all spic and span.

If the person was sick last night, I have sincere sympathy and hope s/he gets better soon.

If the person was drunk, I hope s/he has a hell of a hangover.

Of course, this situation could be karmic retribution for something I (or someone in my party) left behind in a restroom for a camp host to clean up.

My co-worker says I’ve been initiated, and I’m a real camp host now.

(Written June 21, 2015)

Jun13

Whackadoodles in the Parking Lot

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It wasn’t a very busy day in the parking lot, so three nutballs in four hours was actually a lot.

The first guy was driving a motorcycle; a woman was riding with him. He wanted to go the wrong way on the one-way loop. I was signaling (head shaking, hand gestures) no, No, NO! I walked up to talk to him, to tell him we don’t charge people on motorcycles, but to please not take up a parking space a car could use, to park somewhere small. He told me he wanted to park right over there, gesturing to the area he had been trying to drive the wrong way to. I said he could, but he’d have to go  around the one-way loop. He did not want to go around. I warned he might have a head-on collision if he went the wrong way and met a car coming from the other direction. He was adamant that he was going to go the wrong way, which made me adamant that he was not going to go the wrong way. The woman on the back of the bike was trying to convince him to go the right way, and finally he zoomed off in the direction of traffic.

I don’t know where he parked, but it wasn’t right over there, which I would have been able to see from my post in the front. I don’t know if they even walked the trail. I didn’t notice them walk past me to get to the trail, just saw them zoom off on the bike some time later. Maybe they just used the restroom and had a picnic (or an argument).

I’m not big on rules just for the sake of rules, and I don’t see myself as some kind of enforcer. However, it seems like a good idea to follow traffic conventions in a parking lot. If 99% of drivers are going one way, it seems stupid to me to try to go in the opposite direction just to save a few minutes.

However, the second whackadoodle of the day also decided to ignore the “one-way” sign.

I was collecting money from folks in another car when I saw him pull in. Instead of pulling in behind the stopped car, he sped his shiny grey car in the wrong direction, right past the “one-way” sign, and pulled into one of the front parking spaces. I turned around and watched the whole thing, all the while muttering no, No, NO!

After  I finished with the people I was helping, I walked over to the shiny grey car and stood right outside the driver’s door with a smile on my face and my pile of parking passes in my hand. The driver futzed around in the car for several long minutes. When he finally turned his head, he was visibly startled (he actually jumped) when he saw me. I just kept smiling.

The driver got out of the car, saying I had scared him. I kept smiling.

The man’s short grey hair was stylishly tousled. His white shirt was unbuttoned too far down. He was handsome, but I could tell he knew he was handsome and used it to get his way, which made him significantly less handsome in my eyes.

He had a couple of big-eyed, sad looking children in the backseat.

I gently told him he had just gone the wrong way on a one-way loop. I continued to smile at him. I also told him there was a $5 parking fee.

He pulled out a wad of cash and started fumbling for a $5 bill. He said he’d been driving a long time and was very tired. He said he hadn’t understood the sign. He said–repeatedly–that he was sorry.

I was tempted to tell him he shouldn’t be driving if he was so tired. I was tempted to tell him he certainly shouldn’t be driving if he couldn’t understand a sign reading “one way” with an arrow pointing in the direction he needed to go!

I did tell him he needed to be careful in the parking lot because there were many children and dogs darting about. That’s usually enough to make a normal person drive carefully, but this guy actually looked around and said, Where? Where are they? I realized he thought he was some kind of big shot, and he was accustomed to doing whatever he wanted.

At that point, he’d extracted a five from his wad of cash, and I took it from him. He was (insincerely) apologizing, and I said breezily, All is forgiven, as I walked away.

I think he knew exactly what he was doing when he pulled into that spot. He thought he was going to bypass the parking fee and get a space near the front of the lot. I thwarted at least half of his spoiled-brat-man plan.

The last whackadoodle of the day was in the passenger’s seat.

The car pulled in, and I walked over to speak to the driver. When I asked him if they were here for the trail, he was like, Huh? What? Is that where we are? I couldn’t tell if he was kidding or if he really didn’t know where he was.

The man in the passenger seat started yelling at me. Are you really going to charge me to take a picture of a tree?!?

I stayed very calm. I said, Oh, no, there’s no charge to take pictures.

I turned my attention to the driver, and told him, You can drop him off here, circle around the loop, and pick him up after he takes his photo.

This idea did not go over well. The passenger started yelling at me again. He couldn’t believe he had to pay to take a picture of a tree!

I calmly explained that it was free to walk the trail and see the trees, that the charge was for parking. I also said again that he was welcome to get out of the car and take a photo while the driver made the loop.

Then I realized the asshole thought he was going to bully me into letting them park in the lot without paying.

I told them if they wanted to park for free, they could exit the parking lot and look for one of the dirt turnouts on the side of the road. I told them it was free and legal to park in those areas. Those guys suddenly got very nice and friendly and thankful–total attitude change.

I don’t understand why they didn’t simply ask me if there were any free parking in the area. It would have saved us all some time and grief, but I think the jerk was hoping for a fight.

To read more stories of the parking lot, go here: http://www.rubbertrampartist.com/2015/07/07/bill-clinton-rude-lesbians-and-a-hypocrite/ and here: http://www.rubbertrampartist.com/2015/06/09/parking/.

Jun12

Another Story of No Money

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Early Saturday morning (before eight o’clock) a car pulled into the campground. I was cleaning a fire ring, so I walked over to talk to the people in the car, two young men, just out of their teens (maybe). I asked if they were looking for a spot to camp, and they said they were.

I only had one campsite rented, two brothers on a bucket list trip who’d rolled in the previous evening. The first brother was driving a newer, red Corvette. He balked when I told him the fee for camping was $22. He thought that was too much to pay for a campsite. He asked if there were an AARP discount, and made a face when I said no. I asked if he had a Golden Age pass. He did and was happy when I said it would get him a campsite for half price. He was less happy soon aftter when I had to break it to him that there would be a $7 extra car fee for the 1936 International his brother (who wanted to share the campsite) was driving.

Hey! I understand wanting to save a buck. I live to save a buck. But it’s a little difficult for me to feel sorry for an old white guy driving a red Corvette on a bucket list trip. If he wants people to have sympathy for his financial situation, he should probably leave his Corvette at home. And if he doesn’t want to pay a $7 extra car fee, maybe he and his brother should ride in the same car!

But I digress.

I told the young men I had plenty of room for them, the cost of a site was $22, and the campground had no water, no showers. The guy who’d been driving asked if we took cards. I said no, only cash and checks. Then he asked if there were any stores nearby. I told him about the one fifteen miles away, but said I thought it didn’t open until nine o’clock, and I didn’t think it had an ATM. I also said I didn’t know if they could get cash back with a purchase.

The guy who’d been driving said he had a card, but only $4 in cash. The other guy said he had no cash. I told them they could have a site for $4, and they got really excited. The driver hadn’t been camping in years, he said, and the othe rguy had never been camping. The driver wanted to know if they could have a fire (yes, in a fire ring with no sticks sticking out, no flames higher than their knees), and the other guy wanted to know about bears (none sited since I’d been there, no food in the tent, keep food in the car, don’t a fight a bear for food).

I went back a little later with the paperwork, and the guy gave me his $4 in cash. The other guy said softly, I wish I had something to give you, what could I give you… I had a strong feeling he was contemplating giving me weed.

Did I think he wanted to give me weed because we were in California and he was a young man? Maybe. But I felt a vibe, and sometimes I just know these things.

I’m glad he didn’t actually offer me weed. It would have been awkward when I turned him down. I haven’t touched the stuff in almost two years, and I wouldn’t want to have it in the van while I’m doing this job. There wouldn’t be a point in having it. I’m not going to smoke it. (I hate feeling paranoid. I hate coughing. I hate feeling stupid.) In other circles, I’d know who to give it to, but here? No idea.

Perhaps my uniform protected me from an awkward gift. When one wears long hippie skirts and sells hemp jewelry by the side of the road, people make certain assumptions about one’s habits. When one wears brown, polyester-blend pants and a polo shirt bearing the company logo, the assumptions people make are totally different.

Jun9

Parking

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In addition to my job as a camp host, I also work in the parking lot at a very popular trail head. It’s free to walk the trail, but there’s a $5 parking fee for folks who want to leave cars in our lot directly across from the entrance to the trail. Unfortunately, there’s not enough space for all the cars people want to park. A few more parking spaces have been added at the campground just down the road, but still, the parking area is inadequate.

I only got trained to do this job on the (cold, wet) Friday of Memorial Day Weekend. Fortunately, it’s not a difficult job.

A car pulls in. I signal the driver to come all the way down the driveway so other cars can pull in and get off the road. I tell the driver about the $5 parking fee. I collect $5 (making change if necessary) and hand the driver a trail guide and a day pass to hang from the rear view mirror. Then I send the car off to park.

The problem occurs when the lot is full, but the tourists keep coming.

On the Sunday of Memorial Day Weekend, people started packing in around eleven in the morning. The lot was already nearly full when a group of people in 15 to 20 cars started pulling in. The road in the parking area is a loop, and this group created a logjam while they sat parked in the driving area, waiting (and hoping) for other cars to leave.

About then, my (older, more experienced) coworker said there was no point in even letting more cars into the parking area. I stationed myself at the entrance to the lot and told folks who wanted to park their cars that we could not accommodate them.

Most people wanted to know where they could park. I told them they could try the campground, but I expected its parking areas were full too.

People began parking on the side of the narrow highway, despite danger and “no parking” signs. I told people it was illegal to park there and if a ranger came along, they’d probably get a ticket. Many people decided to take their chances.

I saw an older (fit and seemingly wealthy) couple I’d turned away from the parking lot get out of their car, which they were leaving on the side of the highway. I walked over to the man and explained: illegal–ranger–ticket. He said there was a “no parking” sign over there (pointing), but not where he was parked. I told him I was simply giving him information, he could make his own decisions.

He pulled out his wallet and asked how much he owed me.

I said, Oh, no sir. There’s no charge to park illegally. If I took your money, I’d be sanctioning your decision to park there.

Then I walked off, imagining how–if I took his money and he got a ticket–he’d tell a ranger or a judge he thought it was ok to park there because he’d paid a fee to an employee.

No way. Not this employee.

To read more stories of the parking lot, go here: http://www.rubbertrampartist.com/2015/06/13/wackadoodles-in-the-parking-lot/ and here: http://www.rubbertrampartist.com/2015/07/07/bill-clinton-rude-lesbians-and-a-hypocrite/.

Jun1

Shack Up

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On the Friday of Memorial Day Weekend, one of the parties with reservations never showed up. When I went to bed on Friday night, no one had arrived to claim the site. When I woke up on Saturday morning, no one was camped on the site.

The reservation was only for one night, so I just thought Oh well. That was one less site I’d have to clean in preparation for new campers. I went about my business, not giving the people with the unclaimed reservations any more thought.

After a couple of hours working at the day use area, I went back to my campground. Campers were arriving, and I got busy checking them in. In addition to people with reservations, I was getting walk-up (actually drive-up) folks I had to turn away because I had no sites to rent. I was also seeing folks who just drove down the road to see what was at the end of it. Whenever anyone pulled up, my first question was “Do you have a reservation?” so I could either direct the driver to the proper campsite or break the news that there was no room at the inn campground.

A guy pulled up in a BMW and jumped out of his car. I smiled and asked him if he had a reservation.

He gave me a puppy dog eye look and said he had a reservations for the night before. I told him I was sorry, but I didn’t have any spaces available to rent on this night.

Then he said, Can I shack up with somebody?

He wanted to pitch his tent on somebody else’s campsite. (I hope he was planning to pitch in some dollars too!)

I told him I didn’t mind if that happened, but there would be a $7 fee if his car were the second on the site. He looked at me expectantly, and I told him I wasn’t playing matchmaker, he was on his own to find someone to let him share a site.

I went back to my work, as he drove to the back part of the campground. When I looked around for him, he was gone. I guess he didn’t find anyone who wanted to shack up.

May27

Update: Made It Through Memorial Day

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I’m settled in and feeling happier.

We had fog and cold on the Thursday afternoon/evening/night before Memorial Day, and Friday was miserable with fog and rain and cold and mud. The weather improved on Saturday (sunshine!) and Sunday and Monday were gorgeous. I even took off my long underwear and jacket by 10am on Monday and wasn’t cold again until after six that evening.

I started working at the parking lot at the trail head, which makes my work day fly by. I get to talk to people there, so I’m not as lonely, and I feel less isolated.

My co-worker at the trail head is a snarky older guy, but we get along fine. I laugh at his negativity, and I think he’s impressed that I’m not lazy. When the parking business is slow, I perch my butt on the old school metal garbage can, but when it’s busy, I hustle from car to car.

On days when we expect many tourists, the camp host down the road picks me up at my campground and drops me at the trail head (then transports me home later), so my giant van doesn’t take up precious parking space. She and I are getting along well. She likes to talk, and I try to be a good listener, which I think she appreciates. She actually has some good stories. She’s worked for the company at campgrounds on the river for nine previous summers. She’s mostly been on patrol, cleaning restrooms at, picking up money from, and checking on campgrounds with no host. She’s told me about the three dead bodies she’s encountered and the woman who almost died due to some combination of overheating and drug use. She’s also full of handy tips, such as: spraying cheap nonstick cooking spray on the insides of the toilets will keep the shit from sticking.

I consider her a work friend, and I’m glad to have one.

My campground was booked solid for Memorial Day Weekend, but some people never showed up. No-shows make my life easier. We hold those sites in the event the party arrives later, so I don’t have to try to rent them, and I don’t have to do paperwork for them. Once the reservation expires, I don’t have to clean the campsite, because no one’s been on it.

The campers who did make it to the campground all behaved themselves. There were no disgusting messes left in the restroom for me to clean. No one complained about noisy neighbors. No one tried to stay past checkout time or left trash on their site.

The natural beauty here is amazing. I’ve seen trees in many different places, but the trees here are the tallest, the biggest, the most majestic. So gorgeous! Even in the cold fog, it’s lovely here, but when the sun comes out, it’s a special kind of spectacular.

Of course, I don’t know what the summer holds, but right now, my life is good.

May19

Cleaning Fire Rings and Picking Up Trash

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The last couple of days, I have been cleaning fire rings and picking up trash. I don’t mind either of these chores.

Cleaning fire rings is physical in an I’m toughening up sort of way, but not in an I’m going to die sort of way. I do not like physical activities that make me think of death. Also, I can clean the fire rings at my own pace. I would like it less if I had to hurry.

Picking up trash is ok too, especially since I started thinking of it as going on a hike with a trash bag. Actually picking up trash is kind of fun. I feel like I’m on an Easter egg hunt, but instead of finding yummy treats, I’m finding…trash. At least picking up trash puts my OCD tendencies (thanks, Mom) to good use.

I’ve been picking up what is called micro trash or pocket trash. This is the little stuff. Sure, I’ve found a couple of rusty metal cans (which, were I in New Mexico, I’d be compelled to whip into what The Lady of the House and I refer to as Tetanus Art); a plastic grocery store sack; six empty, new-looking Keystone Light cans; and some ripped up newspaper, but mostly I’m picking up small stuff.

Here’s a list of what I have been finding (most to least)

metal bottle caps (most are from beer bottles; Corona seems to be the brand of choice around here)

plastic lids from individual size water bottles

other small bits of plastic ranging from unidentifiable to the covers that come on small propane bottles

broken glass in various sizes (some of it melted in campfires)

the type of thin plastic that wraps everything from granola bars to cigarettes to candy to toothpicks

those flat plastic things that close bread bags

bits of metal ranging from aluminum cans melted in a campfire to old school pop tops that come completely off a soda or beer can

bits of paper

tiny round plastic bb’s in a variety of colors

bandaids (ewwwwww, gross!)

cigarette butts (surprisingly few, most of them in fire rings)

bits of Styrofoam

shredded fibers from tarps

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Here’s a photo I took of a sample of the trash I found. There’s no glass in this sample because I didn’t want to put glass in my pocket for a later photo shoot.

I did find some treasures while picking up trash. The best is the race care, but the googly eye is cool too. I also found the quarter and the two pennies shown here. After I took this photo, I found another quarter and a dime.

I did find some treasures while picking up trash. The best is the race car, but the googly eye is cool too. I also found the quarter and the two pennies shown here. After I took this photo, I found another quarter and a dime.

I don’t understand how so many metal bottle caps and plastic caps from water bottles get on the ground. Are people purposely dropping them? Do these folks have living rooms knee deep in bottle caps because they can’t ever be bothered to throw the caps in the trash? Or is it because they are on vacation and so relaxed that they can’t throw away the bottle caps? Ok, so maybe someone is sitting down and they don’t want to stand up to walk over to their trash bag, but couldn’t they just hold the cap until they stand up later?

The thing that really gets me about the trash on the ground is that there are trash cans all over this campground. I’ve been to campgrounds before (usually free ones) where there are no trash cans. Folks are supposed to pack out what they packed in. Not everyone wants to do that, so people try to burn their trash. Or, with the thought that it will be easier for whomever cleans the campground to pick up trash all in one spot, people will leave their trash in the fire rings. I would understand what was happening if there were no trash cans around here, but that’s not the case.

I guess I should think of it as job security for me, but it irks me to think of people littering in such a beautiful place.

I know I’m probably preaching to the choir here, but folks, put your trash in trash cans! If you are out somewhere with no trash cans, pack out what you packed in. And if you want to be a true good citizen, pick up other people’s trash too. Woodsy Owl will thank you.