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POSTED: Monday, May 31, 2010

In these hard economic times, when much of the country could use a walk in the woods or a night in the mountains or a wade in the river or a picnic by the lake, states across the country seem to be creating obstacles to the great outdoors.

Seeking to streamline their budgets, states have made their parks easy targets. Campgrounds are closing, fees are increasing, employees have been laid off.

In Colorado, some parks are down to one lone ranger. In Massachusetts, a few swimming ponds are closed for lack of lifeguards. Washington has started asking motorists to donate to state parks when they register their cars; Michigan will do so this fall.

Georgia is considering corporate sponsorships for its parks. In Idaho, a motorcycle group offered to mow the grass at a state park on the Snake River where it holds an annual reunion.

Some see a silver lining with the rising volunteerism and the public outcry that have helped keep parks open in many states. Others wonder what will come by next Memorial Day.

“;Right now,”; said Virginia Painter, a spokeswoman for Washington State Parks, which has seen revenue from the new vehicle registration donations fail to meet projections, “;we're hanging on.”;

— William Yardley / New York Times

 

For one last ranger, an expanding duty list

IDALIA, Colo.—If visitors to Bonny Lake State Park ask why nearly half the campground sites are closed this summer and camping costs are up to 20 percent more per night, the answer is political: Money dried up in the state's budget crunch. But for most other questions that might arise, the answer is personal: Bob Shade.

Shade is this 5,000-acre park's lone-ranger, last-man-standing employee.

Bonny Lake, a reservoir in eastern Colorado on the south fork of the Republican River, is the only park Shade, a senior ranger, has ever worked at in his 24 years with the state. Now in many ways, he is the park, since his three co-workers were eliminated last fall—part of a 7.5 percent budget cut at Colorado State Parks. The number of seasonal local employees he can hire for the summer was cut as well.

Those once well-trimmed areas on the lake's edge that are returning to nature with weedy grass and tree seedlings in sprout? Shade no longer has time to mow. The somewhat uneven dirt road around the lake? Shade admits to a learning curve in teaching himself how to operate the park's road grader over the winter—a task, like so many others here, once handled by somebody else. The little bookstore in the visitor center, now devoid of books? The paperwork was one task too many in Shade's juggling act.

“;You try to do the best you can with the resources you have,”; said Shade, 48, a tall, slow-talking man, weathered by his many years outdoors. But he also feels a huge pressure, he said, because he loves this place of rolling hills on the state's eastern edge near the border with Kansas.

He came here in 1987 on his first assignment, met and married a woman from a local farm family, raised three sons and put down roots. “;I take this park personally,”; he said. “;I don't want to disappoint anybody.”;

He even plans to sleep in the visitors center two or three nights a week, to be ready for any emergency that might arise—like, say, a boat rescue on the lake. It is just easier, he said, to be on his air mattress and ready to go than to be 30 minutes away at home with his wife, Margaret.

So where does he plan to sleep?

“;In my office,”; he replied. “;Or my boss' old office. I can take which office I want. I have choices.”;

— Kirk Johnson / New York Times

 

Volunteering for duty to keep a party spot open

WENDELL, Idaho—When the 300 members of Brother Speed rumble up to the expansive lawn at Niagara Springs State Park here each Memorial Day weekend, they are careful where they rest their Harley-Davidsons.

“;We park on the side,”; said Troy Henne, 39, a member for eight years. “;We never ride on the grass.”;

Until now.

Jarred into public service by the stark economy, the members of the Brother Speed Motorcycle Club have volunteered to dismount and climb into the seats of riding mowers every Wednesday this summer to cut the grass at Niagara Springs.

“;It's a lot of work,”; said one gruff member, who identified himself only as Ricky, 49. “;But they're big riding mowers, so it's pretty fun, too.”;

For more than three decades, Brother Speed has culminated one of the West's most notorious motorcycle runs with a loud, long party here between the canyon walls cut by the Snake River. This year, the state of Idaho finally decided the good times had to end. It was not, however, because several members of Brother Speed are convicted felons or because people can hear the party for miles down the river.

Idaho, reeling like so many other states from a steep budget deficit, proposed saving money on maintenance by closing several parks along the Snake, including Niagara Springs. And that is why Brother Speed, not known for generous civic acts, is opening a whole new throttle. Now the park is staying open, the party goes on and Brother Speed is suddenly encountering newfound respectability.

On Saturday, the bikers were the guests of honor at a picnic hosted by Mayor Brad Christopherson in Wendell, a tiny farming town next to Niagara Springs that has come to count on their patronage.

“;I grew up here,”; said Christopherson, 47, who was elected last fall, “;and it was always quite exciting as a kid to see this big group of 200 to 300 bikers come to town.”;

Of course, the welcome is not warm everywhere. The Idaho Department of Correction says at least seven members of Brother Speed are either in prison or on parole, most for dealing or possessing methamphetamine.

“;The fact that they're mowing a lawn,”; said Jeff Ray, a spokesman for the department, “;should not lead us to have a perception that that is not so.”;

The bikers insist that they are harmless and dismiss claims that they are a gang. At least one state agency, the Idaho Department of Parks and Recreation, appears to have no problem with them.

“;They're good folks,”; said Jennifer Wernex, a spokeswoman for the department. “;They clean up after themselves. We're very, very thankful they've stepped up.”;

Beyond mowing, Brother Speed has planted trees and upgraded the wiring at Niagara Springs so bands can perform there. Nick Stock, who builds custom bikes, pointed out that there is another advantage to having motorcyclists around: Many are obsessive tinkerers. His father, a longtime member who has helped mow, was struck by the worn state-owned landscaping equipment.

So, Stock said, “;he fixed all the weed eaters.”;

— William Yardley / New York Times

 

Public effort averts death for a mystical place

SEDONA, Ariz.—Red Rock State Park does not technically contain any of the famed “;vortexes”; said to emanate spiritual energy around here.

But, watching the shifting hues as the sun moves over the craggy, sandstone formations etched by ancient seas, visitors and volunteers like Brenda Robinson swear they feel some harmonic bonding .

“;If you don't feel something, you must be dead,”; Robinson said, walking the trails she helps maintain. “;If you want to call it a vortex, you should be able to.”;

Yes, it is easy to see why this is considered a mystical place. But it is also subject to an earthly bottom line.

The park is still recovering from its near-death experience brought on by a state budget spiraling down into the abyss.

Benefactors of the 286-acre park and its lush, riparian habitat solicited donations outside markets; begged friends to open wallets; held raffles, silent auctions and a barbecue fundraiser; and leaned on civic leaders to raise $60,000 in contributions.

Coupled with about $30,000 from Yavapai County and $15,000 pledged by the city of Sedona, they were able to put off the June closing date until October.

Arizona's deteriorating finances took a brutal toll on four parks, which closed. The remaining 23, including 14 that like Red Rock were on the chopping block, won a reprieve through a patchwork of temporary financing from nonprofit organizations, local communities and the state.

Still, in the past year the paid staff here has declined to four from seven. A vacation home built by some previous owners of the land, an airline company president and his wife, sits like a relic of better times, fenced off and in disrepair. One of the two large picnic areas has been closed, along with composting restrooms on the trails.

Volunteers help replace bridges that wash out in spring flooding, do the painting and lead the numerous visiting school groups to the ancient petroglyphs that adorn some cliffs.

In short, it is a bittersweet story here of local residents pooling their energy to save a treasure, but fretting that in the long run their drive may not be enough. They must raise an additional $50,000 to keep the park open through June 2011.

Mary Ambrose came away charged—and not just from the $10 admission fee.

“;Sedona has an aura,”; said Ambrose, a retiree from California. “;It would be a tragedy if it closed, especially for the younger generation. They need to experience this.”;

— Randal C. Archibold / New York Times

 

Shutdown, deterioration, and then a reprieve

VOORHEESVILLE, N.Y.—The gates were padlocked. The picnic tables were half-buried in uncut grass. Big red “;closed”; signs were posted at the trail heads. Old leaves clotted by the women's room doors. The men's rooms were littered with beer cans.

These unwelcoming scenes at John Boyd Thacher State Park about three hours north of New York City offered a grim reminder of the financial crisis that has paralyzed the state government for months. Thacher was one of 41 state parks (of a total 178) and 14 historic sites (of 35) that were shut in an effort to save money as the state faced a $9.2 billion budget deficit.

A popular site of striking geological formations, hiking trails and natural beauty in the highlands west of Albany, Thacher suffered from neglect as well as the uncertainty of when it would reopen. Employees were redeployed. Rental deposits for pavilions were refunded. Weddings and reunions were relocated.

The whole situation so infuriated Tim Gordon, the independent assemblyman who represents the area, that about two weeks ago, he hauled out his 21-inch Lawn-Boy push mower and began cutting the grass himself. Yes, television cameras happened to be on hand.

Finally, on Friday afternoon, with the Memorial Day weekend under way, the Legislature seemed to remember a basic rule of politics—if taxpayers cannot take the kids to a park, sizzle some burgers and toss the Frisbee on a holiday, they might just take a big old fly swatter to the polls in November.

Lawmakers did not settle the entire budget, but they agreed to other cuts (and increases in some fees) and came up with the necessary $11 million to reopen most of the parks by Saturday. Employees were immediately recalled to start cutting the grass and unlocking the gates.

Eileen Larrabee, a spokeswoman for the New York State Office of Parks, Recreation and Historic Preservation, said she was relieved to get the green light. “;We're in the business of running the parks,”; she said, “;not closing them.”;

One part of Thacher—the parking lot atop the cliffs—remained open and free throughout the budget haggling. “;You can see a lot of mileage,”; an impressed Johnny Bradigan, 25, a Web producer, said as he took in the view that stretches from the Mohawk and Hudson River valleys to the Green Mountains of Vermont. “;We're right here, the scenery is great and the price is right.”;

— Katharine Q. Seelye / New York Times