10 Summers Ago, Take One.

October, 2000. Last Day as "Ranger Jen", Timpanogos Cave National Monument

Exactly one day after graduation, I started my first real job. Interpretive Park Ranger for the National Park Service. Never mind that it was a seasonal position which did not require a higher degree in anything. What did I care? I was finally working for the Park Service, doing what my degree promised I'd be ready for. An introductory job putting into action my passion, education and booked up love for the natural world. Doubling my college wage came only as an added plus to working ten hour days hiking in and speaking about nature and her wonders. 

It was that same summer I first read Desert Solitaire by Edward Abbey. In his book, Abbey journals his conflicting views of romantic nature and the development thereof for recreational purposes while a Ranger for the Park Service. Needless to say, I hiked my journal to the cave everyday. I had dreams of writing Desert Solitaire take two- the mountain/cave version while hiding out on the lunch bench. 

Located over a short rock wall and a few steps behind the grotto was the lunch bench. Rangers retreated there for a half an hour each day to escape people overload, eat lunch and refresh for more hours of conversing. It was a prime piece of real estate. 12 square footage of cliff side viewing. With a backrest of cold rock, the wood plank seat overlooked trunks of white firs that had seeded into the limestone cliff growing horizontal until they found sunlight that forced their growth upward against gravity. Rushing of river water rolling across the canyon floor and the whistling of birds muffled screams of children in the grotto or a Rangers reminder to take nothing but pictures, leave nothing but well placed foot steps. 

No master piece of writing ever came from my lunch bench visits, not even one sentence. Each chance passed as quickly as the stratus and cumulus clouds moved up and over the canyon as I often lied back to watch them. Jovial lunches with fellow Rangers, or soaking up my surroundings took precedence.

I spent time searching the skies for red tailed hawks, once seeing a UFO touch down on the other side of the canyon. For the first time in my life as I raised my index finger with the intent of having a nearby butterfly land on its tip... it landed and in a fleeting second, was gone. I listened to black capped chickadees singing in response to my mimicking, and watched stellar jays with their deep blue tail feathers rest quietly on branches. Occasionally I'd summon a golden mantle ground squirrel for a run across my booted toes or possibly up my green panted leg. With the promise of discarded crumbs or trail mix nuts, they would spook and run when denied an easy meal.