Chris (cru) wrote,

The Grizzly

Haven't updated this damn thing in awhile. Again. Welcome to a couple of new people on my friends list, and hopefully I'll make it worth your time to read my journal :) Okay, so anyway, I went camping in Yosemite last weekend. And there were bears everywhere. Neh. But that's what surfer-guy park ranger would have us believe as we pull into camp on friday afternoon. Puka shells and bleached blonde hair was about as far from the beach as you can get and still be in California. I just scratched my head as his instructions flowed across time and space, into my left ear. Out my right ear.

We got there late Friday afternoon, to be precise, thanks to a navigational miscalculation on the part of yours truly. Since we planned on playing a lot of poker, I was preparing myself. There were signs everywhere pointing to Yosemite -- so many in fact, that I figured they were bluffing. So I missed the turnoff. Big fucking deal.

There were about 15 of us, spread out over 3 campsites. Crane Flat, #222-226. You care. Of particular interest were the metal boxes at each campsite, designed to keep food in and all of the ferocious wildlife of Yosemite National Park out. Unfortunately, we brought about 30 beers. Each. There was no way all of our accouterments would fit in the bear box. So we had to leave some stuff out. Fine. Whatever. Anyway, the first night is great, we grilled up some dogs and cats I mean burgers and then played poker until about 2 am. When I retire to my tent there's about three or four guys still up, who were sleeping together in one tent, "The Gentlemen's Club". Anyway, they're wasted and deciding whether or not to cook up some more turkey burgers. At 2 in the morning. Their decision is finally made when, right after someone says the words "turkey burgers", I hear a low growl emitting from the forest behind our campsites. Wow. I poke my head out of the tent and see asses and elbows and legs all in a mad scramble to jump into the gentlemen's club. HA hahahaha. We discuss the incident in the morning. Adam: "There's no fucking bears out there. Shut the fuck up." Jason: "Dude, I don't know if it was a bear or not, but I definitely heard something out there." Me too. I guess I shouldn't have taken that bath in barbecue sauce before I went to bed.

The next morning we took a short hike to Yosemite Falls. It was cool to see, there was a large pool at the bottom with people swimming, etc. It was interesting to read about the history of the falls, apparently the winds wreak havoc on the waterfall, some famous explorer counted 90 seconds of the wind cutting the fall flat in midair back in the early 1900's. At about 1pm we drove back to our campsite and got a nice surprise. One of our ice chests full of food had been confiscated by Ranger Shirley and we got a warning with infractions as follows: and I quote, "Ice chest with food left outside of bear box. Trash left out and scattered by ravens. Picking flowers unlawful in yosemite." Picking flowers unlaw....what are you, a fucking park ranger now? Is this your homework, Larry? Is this your homework? You're entering a world of pain, son.

Well, goddamnit. Another buzzkill. Let's head up to the "ranger kiosk", like this is some fucking backwoods comdex or something, and reclaim our stolen ice chest. We're informed that we can't get it right now, Ranger Nancy and Ranger Bob have to come out to our campsite and give us a little lecture before we can get our shit back. Okay, fine. I've sat through plenty of these lectures, not listening to a single word, which is probably why I sit through so many of them. Fine, time to smizzle a j and then drink some beers and wait for Ranger Sally. They show up about half hour later and give us the full monty. I mean, they both strip completely naked and let the bears lick honey off their backs. Okay, no. Honestly I wasn't really paying attention until I heard "Yeah, I'm gonna have to cite you guys, it's gonna be about a $150 fine." Wha? Are you? I'm not! The bears are not the issue here, dude. Nothing happened, the warning isn't enough? Fucking christ. Alright, well that's fine, write me up the ticket and get the fuck out of here Ranger Lady. Wouldn't you know it, Ranger Dave tries to get cute with us while his partner is writing up my citation. "So, how's it goin, besides that?" Are you fucking kidding me dude? That's all I'm going to say about that. And then the Ranger Lady went out of her way to make a lady friend carry the ice chest about an extra 30 yards. If there's any lj'ers out there who need a job, and you don't have any manners whatsoever, apply to be a park ranger in Yosemite. Trust me. Anyway, to make a long story, well, long, we took our citation right on the chin, I took a nice hit to my wallet that night in a ferocious round of texas hold'em and we got packed up and out of there by 10am the next morning.

A pretty awesome trip all around, except for the hundred and fifty dollar fine. And I didn't see one goddamned bear. For $150, I was hoping someone would get their arm ripped off or something...
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