by Jan Chaffin

• Disclaimer: The views expressed are mine alone and do not necessarily reflect the views of my employers.

Chapter One – New Hire

Fog levitated above the grassy lowlands, hiding the distant hills like a half-raised shade. Occasionally a blue hole of sky poked through the tall trees.

I was alone on Hwy 9 driving from my Westside Santa Cruz home to my first day of work as a Park Service Aide in Henry Cowell Redwoods State Park. Felton was only six linear miles away, but Hwy 9 was hardly linear! A single lane coiled gracefully up the hill as the ground cover shifted from sand to pine needles. The sun sputtered between unendingly high, beanstalk trunks while I carefully navigated the tight turns. As Felton approached, the fog lifted, illuminating entire sections of brilliant blue and green. I turned into the entrance and instantly relaxed into the park.

The day use entrance to Henry Cowell Redwoods State Park is one of the loveliest half miles I’ve ever driven. Surrounded by meadows and majestic redwoods, the road promises surprises, more enticing with every turn.

I parked by the little kiosk and surveyed my new office. The windows on all three sides were covered with instructions, rates, maps, notices and policies. The wooden kiosk itself was constructed in that iconic state park style, painted familiar brown and white, chipping and in slight disrepair. For some reason it had a little covered patio behind it and the only door opened onto it. Both sides of the kiosk had sliding windows for visitors to approach by car or on foot.

I was the first to arrive so I jogged to the Redwood Grove nature trail, scoping out the ubiquitous Gift Shop along the way.

The Grove is a legend unto itself and deserves entire treatises instead of a brief description. Sublime… As I finished the mile loop through the tallest and oldest redwoods on the coast, a rare blush of euphoria flashed over me; I was suspended in happiness. Was this bliss?

Chapter Two – Day Use

The line of cars slithered as far as I could see. A shimmer of viscous exhaust surrounded it like a snake’s halo. “Day use is $10.00. Please park at the top of the hill to the right. Be sure to walk through our Redwood Grove.” Repeat. “This is nothing.” my shift partner said. “Wait until after Memorial Day.”

The routine was fairly straightforward and within a few minutes, I was able to jump in and start helping. By the end of the shift, I felt like a seasoned pro. Until it came time for the cash wrap. A solid hour later, I emerged from the park office dazed and confused until a run along the San Lorenzo River re-charged me. I drove back to Santa Cruz along a now sunny Hwy 9 feeling on top of the world. After all, I’d just spent an entire day in the redwoods and gotten paid for it.

Chapter Three – Campground

Head State Park Ranger Joe pulled up to the kiosk window and smiled. “Thanks for your quick action today Ladies. You might have helped save a life.” What had transpired was just another day in the life of a State Park Peace Officer but it had deeply affected me. I felt a sense of pride and purpose approached only by my volunteer work with sea otters.

Weekdays in Henry Cowell Redwood State Park Campground are pretty mellow. There are usually empty campsites and folks drive (or ride) up to book a night’s stay or check in to their pre-reserved spots. The volume is manageable so it fairly easy to catch on to most procedures. Mid morning, a hiker approached the kiosk with a cell phone and announced: “There’s a teepee in the park.” I looked at the woman, not sure why she was telling us about it.

She proceeded to show us a photo on her phone. Indeed it was a teepee of sorts, more of a tarp on a clothesline. And it was obviously not at a campsite. Someone was illegally camping on State Park property. My seasoned shift partner helped the woman determine its location on a camp map. Meanwhile, Joe drove up to make his morning camp site check. I handed him the clipboard with the list of who was due out for the day. I also gave him the map and told him of the hiker’s report.

A few minutes later Joe pulls up again and returns our campsite list. I ask if he’s found the teepee yet and he said he was heading there next.

Within minutes, we hear the emergency dispatch radio crackle to life. Joe is summoning emergency medical help for a severely dehydrated semi conscious 50 year old male. Within minutes, an ambulance pulls up to the kiosk while we listen to details of the rescue unfolding over the dispatch. We watch the EMTs load a person and take off. That’s when Joe pulls up to the window. Turns out the gentleman had been reported missing for weeks. He went into the woods to die, found the tarp in the trash and hadn’t eaten for weeks. But he wanted to live and wanted help.

Chapter Four – Nightshift

Noises at night in a redwood forest sound different. Or, more likely, I hear noises differently when I am in a redwood forest at night. Silence suddenly becomes a thud or a bump or scratch. A car door thunk, an engine rev or ignition all sound full of menace and ill intention. No sound is friendly. Even silence is menacing in it’s uncertainty. The mind could really spin out.

But I am lucky. I am training with another seasoned Aide, who’s done this for a while and is very helpful and unflappable. Yay. The day starts at 1500 and will go to 2100. There is quite a rush of campers checking in and joining groups and swapping sites and looking for other campgrounds and buying wood. Wow. All sides. I gasp at the thought of doing this alone. But the hours pass quickly and soon it’s time to walk across the parking lot in total darkness to my car. Challenging shift… Not feeling quite as warm and fuzzy now.

Chapter Five – Working with the State

Three days into the season, I’m happy as a clam running some of the loveliest and most challenging trails in the park after work each day and generally handling the job with ease. Staff members are typically very helpful and friendly. They’ve been quite attentive to the needs of the new seasonal hires and have even responded to my request for two days off my second week of work to honor a previous commitment.

Yet, I bristle on the fourth day when one of the Senior Park Aides requests that I wear a non-uniform shirt on my pre-work mini run. The request makes sense. Yet I expect the smiling thumbs up of the other rangers as I run by, not scrutiny. I realize it doesn’t take much to stack another chip on my shoulder. After forty-five years of working, I still need constant positive reinforcement from my coworkers and employers and a perfect work schedule. It’s unrealistic to say the least. So I have a few techniques to talk myself down; I just need to remember to use them.

I find it helpful to consider this summer as State Park boot camp. I’ll be given the worst shifts, the lowest wages and the least help. Anything better will be bonus. Yet, it will end before I’m ready and I’ll look back with nostalgic affection on my State Park Summer.

http://gravesitestories.com/my-state-park-summer-part-two/