Meet The Friendly Ranger! ID Public TV

“I Haven't been in touch with TFR in a year or so, so I googled her name yesterday to get up to speed. Looky what I found!

All you folks that were thinking I probably made-up this Jewel of the Gem State; this Princess of the Pass - my Wyoman, can now see and hear this now-quite-accomplished scientist with your own eyes and ears.

Gawd! I soooo love Sara!

http://idahoptv.org/dialogue4kids/archive/episodePage.cfm?versionID=180719

I viewed the full show, but not the web extra, BTW.
last edited: 1/13/09 11:16:00 AM”

“I watched the web extra, too.”

“Bump - dammit!”

“I remember the stories about the Friendly Ranger! I think I even recall a pic of her legs.... or were those your legs? Or maybe her legs and your legs, together. Anyway, I watched a bit. Thanks for the link!”

“When did she grow the moustache?”

“lol”

“Mustache? Someday, perhaps.
She once told me she hasn't shaved since HS. Her armpits are proof positive. And legs, too - eh Tara?

I got an e from her today. She's been home in IA with her mom for a while. She's back in Wyodaho now.

She didn't have much time, but it was nice of her to shoot me a few lines, nonetheless. She mentioned that she would *almost* prefer to be a FS ranger again.

The pay suxes, but "the Sawtooth NRA is a tough office to top" is what I'm thinking she means. The ID Fish and Game is prolly pretty bureaucratical, too... I'm thinking.

I'll get the skinny once she gets settled back down.


I hope.





Why? She say something about me?





She hates me.
I half-name my dog after her, and this is the treatment I get. I want my mustache back!”

“Tens years ago this month my brother and I traveled the 70 miles of dirt road to visit the town of Atlanta, ID. John had been living in Challis for 20-plus years, but had never been to Atlanta. We were both awash with anticipation. As soon as we turned off the paved highway, John took the wheel of Tiffany, the Mighty Mighty Tacoma so's to allow me to take in the scenery of the Sawtooth Range, as well as to get gloriously drunk on ice cold beers.

Upon reaching the town, we stopped hither and yon to snap pictures of the one-room schoolhouse, bar, firehouse, etc. We continued up Main Street to it's terminus at Water Works(?) campground - a quasi-primitive place.

We had no sooner gotten the camp set up when a ranger appeared coming down the trail from the direction of the Sawtooth Wilderness. Her brunnette hair glowed a fresh, blue-blond as she disrobed - revealing a two-toned Floridian complexion of brown and creamy white. She emitted an air of feral femininty that was palpable from our distant site. Oh - what a sight!

Minutes later, she was standing with us in her "dress greens" as rangers are apt to do. She was clean and bright and confident. I would have never believed she had just completed a five day journey across some of the most rugged terrain in America. As we stood chatting, a couple hikers passed by. She approached them and retrieved a Milkbone dog biscuit from her breast pocket and gave it to their eager companion. She small talked with the weary travelers for a moment, then they passed on through toward the tiny burg.
"You carry dog biscuits?" I asked.
"But of course - I'm the Friendly Ranger!"”

“She visited with us for a couple hours, then retired to her camp for the night. This was understandable - five days of trailwork would take it's toll on anyone. John and I freshened-up and took the quick drive into town. There, we dined at one of two bars. This particular one was also a general store - allowing me to purchase a disposable camera along with a quantity of beers and pickled turkey gizzards. John munched-out also, but used Coca-Cola to chase down the foodstuff.

I rose early the next morning. I soon noticed that the Friendly Ranger was also stirring, so I invited her over for coffee. We had coffee and breakfast. We talked. And talked. It was noon by the time she left. John and I packed-up our camp and were soon ready to hit the road. We had a five hour trek back to Challis, and John was anxious to get home. He had an early morning departure the following day for a doctor's appointment in Idaho Falls, and I was to begin my homeward voyage as well. Before we left Atlanta, I went to the Friendly Ranger's camp to say farewell.

I held Sara in my arms for an eternity. My ploy was disguised as a goodbye hug. I had ventured deep into the Idaho backcountry to discover a harsh and rugged place, but instead struck gold. I had found the Jewel of the Gem State. I had turned up a switchback that would take me to heights I had never before imagined.”

“so we've got a pervert and a government worker slacking on the public dole

What happened next? A lumberjack needs to borrow 50 cents to buy a coke?”

“HighPlainsDrifter -
Please post your email address so I can respond to your comments.

Meanwhile, please keep fuego where it belongs.
last edited: 7/28/09 11:37:55 AM”

“LOL.

Sarge is just jealous. His goodbye hugs usually mean he gets maced and kicked in the nuts.”

“What is fuego? Fire? What does that mean?”

“thats it, s-rge. stay in character. dont let the silly libbies clown you”

“Please keep fuego where it belongs, rosie.”

“Dear Penthouse Forum...I never thought it would happen to me......





Signed Gojo (LOL)

Good story Gojo.”

“That last line is a damn instant classic.”

“Please keep fuego where it belongs, rosie

actually, hpd started the fuego”

“no fair unless you tell me what fuego is”

“internet drama”

“gojo's posts weren't an internet drama about the lazy hairy lady and the pervert?”

“Fuego is intended to inflame someone. I don't think gojo was trying to make you hot.”

“yo mama, save teh drama for obamas llama”

“Two days later, I awoke in the backcountry of Bryce Canyon National Park. I fetched the pen and tiny notepad from my firstaid kit and began writing a letter. Blame it on the hoodoos, but I could not get Sara out of my mind. She had an effect on me that I could not shake. I sat and sipped coffee and thought and wrote until 1 pm. The next morning, after much hesitation, I dropped an envelope into a mailbox in Tuba City, Arizona. It was addressed:
Sara _ _ _ _
National Forest Service
Stanley, ID (12345)
The days passed. Then weeks. Some time in September, I got home from school; stopping at the mailbox before turning up the driveway. Along with the usual junk was the most unusual envelope I have ever seen. It was handmade from that newsprint-type first grader paper with the wide ruled solid and dashed lines. The seams were sealed with scotch tape, and there were numerous peeloff ants stuck here and there, front and back, as if on the march. My name and address was printed in large, flowery, multi-colored letters. Printed similarly in the top left corner, but in smaller letters, was the name Sara.

The day after we parted ways, Sara left to fight the Montanna fires of '99. She returned several weeks later to find my letter waiting for her at the Fourth of July workcenter. She was set aback by my prose. She had never received such a letter before. She was honored and humbled to be my Jewel of the Gem State - my switchback.

Sara and I wrote often to one another. My letters helped brighten her otherwise dismal winter in Jackson, Wyoming. Her letters were always the highlight of my week or month. They were funny and charming. She has a wonderful way with the written word. I have them all still to this day. We made plans for me to come out the next summer. I would join her as a volunteer on a trailwork job. This was exciting!

In May I got a dog. Actually, she got me. I called her Belle after a good friend named Belinda. The former being French, and the latter Italian for the word "beauty". I got a phone call from Sara in June. It was to confirm and finalize our plans for the summer. Belle, who was lying nearby, arose Sarabelle.”

“to recap, we've got a pervert, a government worker slacking on the public dole, and a dog strangely named after 2 women.

Think positive. This can only get better.”

“I left Pinedale, Wyoming, the morning of July 8th, 2000. Sara and I were to rendevous at 5 pm at the workcenter near Obsidian, Idaho - an unincorporated wide spot in the road strattled by the White Cloud Peaks and the Sawtooth Range. At 4:59, I pulled off the highway onto the road that leads to the workcenter. I parked just inside the gate, released Sarabelle, then entered the door of the office.
"I'm here to meet Sara" I said. "She's expecting me."
"Sara's in" the guy says.
"What?"
"When?"
"She went in at three this afternoon - she won't be back for several days" he tells me.
"Where is she?" I did not expect an answer, and was not undissapointed.
I was sick. I was deflated.
"May I leave her a note?"
"Sure - I'll see that she gets it."
I returned in a couple minutes with the note. While standing at the counter, I saw a dry erase board with names in a coulmn. I saw "Sara", and across to the right were the words "Alice Lake".
"Thanks, bud - tell her I'm sorry I missed her."
"You bet!" was his likely reply.

I dashed out the door toward Tiffany, the Mighty Mighty Tacoma, and summoned Sarabelle - who was atop the hill terrorizing prairie dogs. I flew to the general store in Obsidian.
"Do you sell maps?"
"No - but we have these that we give away" pointing at what looked like a stack of Denny's placemats on the counter.
I snatched a map and returned to the truck. It was crude by backpacker standards, but adequate for finding one's way around the Sawtooth National Recreation Area by Winnebego. Nevertheless, in the corner identified as the Sawtooth Wilderness were numerous dotted lines that indicated trails, and in a corner of that corner was Alice Lake.
"Bingo!"
I found what the map suggested was the best trailhead for Alice, parked, and started unloading gear from my truck. Sarabelle woofed, and I looked up to see an elderly gentleman approaching. He worked for the concessioneer that operated the nearby campground. He had come to collect ten bucks from me - part of a new NFS policy, he says. It's experimental, and if I absolutely, positively did not want to pay, I did not have to. I paid.
"Seen any rangers today?" I asked.
"Yeah - there were a couple college age-looking kids come through a few hours ago."
"Did they say where they were going?"
Nope.
"Thanks" I said over my shoulder as Belle and I struck northward up the trail toward the 211,000 acre wilderness.

At 10 pm, I crawled into my sleeping bag. I was fed and exhausted. I would have slept well had it not been for Sarabelle. She stood statuesque the whole night long - growling and woofing at the numerous deer that grazed all around us in that little meadow on the shores of Alice Lake.”

“this is getting scary”

“Cut to the boffing.”

“I just can't wait to read about the money shot.”

“What the? Did I miss something here? How far back do I have to read?”

“God bless America!”

“My Indiglow watch shined a bright fivesomething, and illuminated the statue formerly known as Sarabelle standing over me - her ears perked, and head screwing left then right - right then left. I obviously was not going to reach REM, so I began to stir. I unzipped the tent's mesh - causing the herd to bolt, and Belle to give a short chase until my "ennnk!" command stopped her in her tracks. I donned my headlamp and crawled robotically out of the tent. I regained my bearings, then hobbled downwind toward my 200 feet-distant kitchen.

By the first signs of daybreak, I had brewed a half-Nalgene of coffee and was making my way counterclockwise around Alice Lake. The jingling of Belle's tag seemed to echo from the opposing shore, so I removed her collar so's not to disturb anyone who may have been camping in the area. I found two camps. Both were whistle-clean. Not even a shovel. Those were probably not the camps of rangers, I surmised. After making a complete loop, I returned to my kitchen to have breakfast.

I was standing atop a boulder retrieving my food bag when Sarabelle woofed. I looked in that direction, but did not see any movement. Then I did. Something did move - 100 yards away - something moved. It was where the trail exits the forest into the meadows surrounding Alice. It was from whence a figure was approaching. Then another. Two figures. They were dressed in green shorts and light green shirts. One was carrying a staff - no, a shovel. They were rangers.

Sara was walking point, and Dave from WisCANsin was close behind. They saw me.
"Good morning!" Sara sang, adding a friendly wave and perceptable smile.
I said nothing and remained motionless - downright antisocial behavior in the backcountry. This concerned them. Their approach became more cautious and deliberate. Their smiles dissipated.

Not even a flinch. I think my heart may have actually stopped beating. I stood completely motionless.

Sara was now barely 50 feet away.
"OH MY GOD!" she said, dropping the shovel.
I jumped down from the rock, grinning like a jackass eating briars. Sara rushed toward me. Dave from WisCANsin freaked out.

After a year's anticipation, Sara and I embraced. We hugged and laughed. Then laughed some more and hugged some more.
Sara pushed away and locked her elbos with her hands still on my shoulders and mine around her waist. She tilted her head forward and peered over her Smiths -
"You're goooood!"
Yes I am, if I may say so myself :)”

“So why'd she blow you off at the work center? Didn't even leave a note at the desk for you when she went in? Are you going to be imprisoned at any point during this story? Are you imprisoned before or after the boffing, and how directly related to the boffing is your imprisonment?”

“"I jumped down from the rock, grinning like a jackass eating briars."

Oh, man, that line just about ruins it.

How about...

"I leapt from the rock, my heart racing madly. I broke out into a grin upon seeing her."”

“nah...he's already seen her without breaking into a grin when she first walked out of the woods, so he can't "break into a grin upon seeing her".”

“grinning like a jackass eating briars

denotes an air of sneakiness - like one is trying to hide something. Or - like "I just pulled one over on you".

Besides my heart was not racing madly. It's not like that with her.
last edited: 7/30/09 10:53:13 AM”

“How about “grinning like a stalker whose victim had caught him but didn’t appear to be about to call the police.”

Or “I jumped down from the rock, my finally unfettered excitement spreading such a broad mischievous grin across my face I thought my cheeks would surely give out from exhaustion.”
last edited: 7/30/09 10:57:36 AM”

“about to call the police.”

Um. She is the police.

She actually cited a guy for leaving a fire burning while he went fishing. Plus, he wasn't using a fire blanket - required there, then.
last edited: 7/30/09 10:56:50 AM”

“"about to call for backup" in that case

I'm just messing around in case the sarcasm isn't coming across by the way - I'm enjoying the story.
last edited: 7/30/09 10:56:00 AM”

“She had Dave from WisCANsin.”

“Dave doesn't sound all that tough to me. After all, he let her walk point up to some weird dude perched atop a rock who was refusing to acknowledge their greeting
last edited: 7/30/09 10:59:11 AM”

“he let her ?
Methinks not.

Nope. Sara works her beat like a borrowed mule. Yeah - she's cop to the core. Dave from WisCANsin was her tagalong for the week.
last edited: 7/30/09 11:02:22 AM”

“Well, I suppose it was better than "grinning like a dog #&%!$in peach seeds"”

“Ah yes, yes – how could I forget - feral femininity and whatnot. Point it is and I won’t discredit Dave as a coward just yet.”

“Not a coward - a pu$$y-footed college boy. Pale, smooth, dainty hands - the works.”

“Man where were the ranger chicks who needed tagalongs when I was a pu$$y-footed college boy? Sounds like Dave had it figured. Maybe if I had just filed down the calluses.”

“For all we know at this point, Dave might have been boffing her back up the trail.”

“the word boffing really grows on you - thanks rosey

Chili I didn't want to say anything...but I mean...I gotta assume...In the amount of time that has passed during this story, someone must have boffed someone. There are a limited number of characters, gojo hasn't boffed anyone...it really comes down to process of elimination.
last edited: 7/30/09 11:20:05 AM”

“Dave from WisCANsin bailed the next morning. Bum knee. We sent him packing with all he would need in the event that it took him a couple days. This included my water filter. It was my last day, too. I had an appointment to take my brother to the Missoula airport. I did spend the entire day with Sara. I helped her rehab fire rings, saw limbs and logs, repair water bars, etc. We had a blast. She is quite a gal.

During those couple days, I completed the reknowned Alice/Toxaway loop. It is very similar to the Cascade/Paintbrush loop in the Tetons. The hikes include crossing a pass between their two drainages, and equal lengths of about 18 miles. The Sawtooth Range is absolutely magnificent. The view of the Alice/Twin Lakes drainage from the pass is one I would recommend to every backpacker. It is definitely worthy of anyones bucket list.

I returned to my truck to find my filter, then returned to the work center to find Dave from WisCANsin. I found him chewing on a leather toungue from an old boot, and sipping puddle water. It's difficult to eat well on the $15.00 per day that tagalongers get paid. I invited him to Stanley to join me in my traditional post-hike treat of burgers and beers - which was my intent all along. He beat Sarabelle to the truck - bum knee and all.

Two days later, Sara and I rendevoused in Jackson, Wyoming. She arrived at the laundramat there about the time my dryer stopped. She showed me around the NFS facilities in town, then took me to the top of a ski hill by way of the lift. The view of Jackson Hole was awesome. The Tetons hogged the view to the NW, the Gros Ventres to the E, and the Absarokas to the NE. The hole itself must be the size of Texas.

We ended up at the Y, where I showered and she swam. That would be the last time I saw her for another year. I left Jackson for a week-longer in the Wind River Range.

God Bless America!”