Archive for the ‘Outdoor Careers’ Category

Hanging Around - Rope Rescue & Climbing

Monday, May 31st, 2010

It’s three stories straight down.

Ascending the steel building, West Valley College PKMGT 12B

Yes, you’re tied in to the belayer’s rope, and you’re attached to a separate rappel rope with a brake rack or Figure Eight. Yes, you have great control with the brake rack’s friction on the rope.

But instinct screams at you to back off from the edge. That first time over the railing is the hardest.

Climbers, those folks who go up the faces of Yosemite’s El Capitan or Half Dome using their legs and hands, are usually a very safe group. Lead climbers will be roped and belayed from below by a follower. Every 5-10 feet or so, climbers hammer a new bolt into the rock and clip the rope to it, shortening the distance if they fall. Climbing ropes are dynamic - they stretch anywhere from 10-30% when they’re stressed by a falling climber, decreasing the shock. And belayers use simple lock-off devices to stop the rope in a leader’s fall.

Most of us shy away from the human fly routine. But what no one tells you is how much fun it is to defy gravity.

I’d done a little climbing at an indoor climbing gym, but that’s not the same as outdoor climbing. As part of an intermediate backcountry skills course offered by West Valley College, I was lowered near the base of the sandstone cliff face by the Falls at Castle Rock State Park. I didn’t know I was climbing a route rated 5.8, when the toughest one I’d done indoors was 5.7.

The hardest part was the scramble up the seemingly featureless rock face at the bottom, followed by sweat dripping down into my eyes. With some rope tension from above and using very small footholds, I pushed myself high enough to step into the next set of small edges.

Successful climbing requires you to see and plan your next set of foot-and hand-holds as you use your legs to push yourself up. You quickly discover your arms’ lack of strength to haul you up the rock. Handholds are best used for balance.

I conquered my fear of heights with no apparent means of support during the next three days, at the California Department of Forestry’s training center near Ben Lomond. After you go over the railing for the first rappel and head on down, tying off the rope to stop yourself about halfway to the ground, the next time is easy and starts to be fun.

Ascending with Prusiks at Ben Lomond CDF training center

Ascending the rope from the ground using Prusik-knotted slings for each leg and your harness is a little harder. The trick is finding your rhythm - sit back in your harness, push up both leg slings, then step up and push up your harness sling, lean back and repeat. There’s a rush of accomplishment when you reach the top, thread your brake rack through the rope, and rappel back down.

Put this together with patient packaging and transport on titanium litters, and you have useful emergency skills. My class practiced lowering and raising patients on tree-studded hills, with a haul team pulling and litter team keeping the patient level. The litter wheel clamped underneath is the only way to make a five- or ten-mile transport down a trail without sore muscles.

Litter operations, Castle Rock State Park, California

When students asked instructor and rescue expert Kim Aufhauser about high-angle rescue and litter transport on rock faces, his answer was, “We cover that in 12C,” the next backcountry skills course in West Valley’s Park Management program.

So I’ll have to take that class for more hands-on experience.

See all the pictures here.

Mark Bohrer with brake/rappel rack

Shot Notes -
For shooting confined to one area outdoors, you can meter and expose manually, since the light won’t change that fast. If you have a small point-and-shoot digital or film camera, use it. When you’re in a remote location and you can get almost as close as you want, lightweight, small equipment works best.

I used the smallest, lightest equipment I have - a Leica M8 with 35mm, 50mm and 90mm lenses.

I was shooting in the shadow of a building, or under heavy overcast, so extreme contrast wasn’t a big problem. There were only a few times when I had to choose correct exposure of a face and blow out some of the background. This is almost always the right choice - your viewers want to see your subject’s eyes and expression.

Is There Life Outside The Cubicle?

Wednesday, February 24th, 2010

If you could work outside the cubicle, what would you really like to do?

I’ve asked myself that question repeatedly. As a fresh engineering graduate in the late 1970s, my answer was playing music onstage. I wrote and performed alongside engineering jobs until the mid-1980s, when music got to be too much of a hassle. I still miss it sometimes, like an old lover.

Then I started looking for that ideal job. You know, the one where your staff always goes beyond what you ask for, and management approves your most interesting product ideas. I looked in Silicon Valley, and in Colorado near the Front Range. It took me way too long to figure out there’d always be non-ideal stuff to put up with.

After my last design job ended in 2003, I started photographing wildlife. I went to places like Antelope Island State Park, Hardware Ranch Wildlife Management Area, and Bosque del Apache National Wildlife Refuge looking for animal behavior to capture on pixels. After some print sales, a bunch of article rejections, and a few published pieces, including one in a national magazine, I decided to pursue plan B.

  Pronghorn, Antelope Island State Park, Utah
 

I started writing articles, white papers and other content for technical clients. Engineers, management and executives are too busy to write most of the stuff with their bylines. They hire people like me with technical backgrounds to do it for them. In between writing stories there was a stint as a software applications engineer. It reminded me of how much I hate corporate ego games, no matter how good the pay is.

The writing business began to dry up last year.

So I stopped and asked myself what I really wanted, after doing what other people wanted or expected of me for so many years.

That made me seriously consider escaping the office.

My wife pointed out that I sometimes know as much about National Parks and Monuments we’re visiting as the rangers do, and I love these places. After not taking her seriously for awhile, she convinced me to enter a well-regarded program in Park Management at Saratoga, California’s West Valley College.

Consider all the skills you need as a park ranger or wilderness tour leader. Navigating the territory is a small part. If somebody gets hurt out there, the ambulance may not arrive for days, if ever. You need solid wilderness first aid skills for anything from diabetic emergencies to full-thickness burns, frostbite, and arterial bleeding. You and your party may have to survive a midwinter night out if you get too far from camp close to sunset.

You may also have decide what to do about non-native plants the native animals have come to rely on, or how much restoration of cultural artifacts like ruins is OK. Maybe you’ll get to develop an interpretive program for visitors, and present it to them. You may also work a fire line, or report illegal marijuana fields in the backcountry.

It’s a lot more than wearing a uniform and Smokey the Bear hat. I hope for a job doing interpretation. Instilling respect for the resource is a must in today’s disposable, over-packaged world. But I also want to use my knowledge and career to advocate for a responsible answer to the question, “Where does it end?”

The good news is that the park management job picture, already pretty good due to the growing number of baby-boomer retirees, should be even better when I finish the program in two years. Meanwhile, I hope to build my skills and connections with summer work for local agencies.

Shot Notes -
I’d gone to Antelope Island to photograph bison in December, when males are playful and not fighting over mates. I was packing up when I noticed this group of shy pronghorn antelope munching sage and grass fifty yards away. I captured a couple frames with a 500mm f/4L IS lens and 1.4X teleconverter before they glided away. Equivalent full-frame focal length was 910mm on an EOS 1D mark II. Light was soft and overcast, so contrast was easily within the camera’s range.