As we near the end of the season for the campground, our duties as hosts have changed a bit and we go from kiosk greeter to care and maintenance of the grounds. This isnt necessarily the worst thing and has us doing odd jobs like walking each site to rip nails and screws from trees or dig out fire pits for the end of season. We also finally have a chance to clean the day-use creek areas where people have been shoving trash into rock cravases; because where else would it go? Some tasks still remain though like checking bathrooms for TP and clogs (as previously discussed) and performing the night time compliance for noise and fires.
{Small rant: Come 10pm, the campground is to become quiet. No generators, lowered or off canned music and no hecklin/hootin/hollerin. Apparently the woods are an accepatble SCREAM ZONE and this past weekend we have had children yelling for no specific reason other than to be loud. It gets old very quickly.
Labor day was a nightmare since you could imagine we were at full capacity with just Liz and I to clean and maintain 29 restrooms and make sure all campers followed the rules. At night the sounds carry through the tall pine trees and its hard to pinpoint the source. The golf cart is so easily unmistakable that when we roll around, we pass campfires of 30+ people DEAD silent with eyes beaming at us. We not only watch but are always watched. Folks know what the cart means yet there are the disobiedient/disrespectful few who, once the cart has past, will crank up the volume. The mile long campground is impossible to monitor top to bottom with one cart. We did our best performing numerous laps at "hot-spots" and remaining up and moving until almost midnight. Even so, we recieve numerous noise complaints in the morning that this site or the other was turnt up and lit till the wee hours. Unfortunately, if its not happening in the 30 or so sites right near our camper, we dont know and cant monitor. We really arent paid enough to deal with some of this sh!t.}
Anyways, last night on rounds, the grounds were surprisingly quiet and only a handful of guests were reminded to keep it down. As we past H-loop which has maybe 4 of 14 sites occupied, I spied something of intrigue in the darkness. A small flame was licking at an otherwise quiet and unoccupied site. We came around the loop to find its origin. The occupants had, for some reason, thought it would be OK to heave a 50+lb log (uncut) onto the fire ring grill to burn. Well fun fact about circles is they roll. And this flaming log with embers shootin out the sides had fallen off the grill and was laying a few feet away on a bed of highly flamable pine needles and sticks with a low hanging branch right above.
Its 10:30pm and no one in sight. We call to the site occupants and hear a voice from within the tent. A woman the spitting image of a dirty adult Honey Boo-Boo clad in sweats and Uggs emerges and asks what the trouble is. We question, in polite words, what the actual F* was going on with this flaming log. The excuses were poor at best and when asked why their fire was unattended, the golden response was given. "We were watching it from within the tent" which, mind you, had no windows open at the time. They were in the tent because they were cold. Well isnt that what a fire is for? They also confessed to knowing that this lit log was off the grill and near to roll down the hill and into their neighbors site.
Just a fact of true negligence and possibly some unintelligence could have started the next California wildfire care of site ##. The fire, starting and speading in the night would cause a cut off of the campground leaving the upper portion stranded with no exit (and of course we are living in the upper). A mass exodus of campers would fuel a huge traffic jam down the one lane road as the dead trees around them burned to the ground. Water reserves wouldnt do much as the fires spead atop the mountain. The unseasonable winds had earlier in the day would carry embers for a distance to rapidly increase spead. All this because Honey Boo-Boo's flaming stump of a fire rolled its embering body down a hill and caught all the kindling that litters the ground igniting this forest fire.
We dumped eight gallons of water on the hulk (log) and it was still giving steam. Armed with a pint sized water bottle, the firestarters were completely unarmed to battle their blaze even when ready to turn in. Glad we caught it and were ready to assist with dousing in the dark. And believe me, Liz and I gave a stern talking to good old Boo-Boo about why this is NOT OK and how to actually have a safe fire. Hopefully next time they use a little common sense before they burn.
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