Jonathan Stumpf

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posted in: General

August 31, 2016

Back To Where It All Began on Public Lands

Taking the spirit of the National Park Service Centennial into the next century of public lands stewardship

We’ve spent the month of August celebrating “America’s best idea,” the national parks that have given so many sportsmen and women their earliest and most formative experiences on public lands. One staffer’s close encounter with a Yellowstone black bear fueled his lifelong curiosity for wildlife biology. Another staffer credits a national recreation area outside Los Angeles with turning city rats into public lands advocates (and giving her a place to rock climb.) These are the places where we learned the value of conservation funding, found out we were strong and resilient enough to survive, and spotted some seriously big game.

For me, it was in Colorado’s crown jewel, Rocky Mountain National Park, where I was fortunate to forge many of my fondest memories. Just 45 minutes from our front door, my family and I backpacked to the upper Big Thompson River, snowshoed to Bear Lake, and cross-country skied along the headwaters of the Colorado River. The panoramic view was supposed to be the payoff of our annual pilgrimage to the top of Trail Ridge Road, but the rock candy at the gift shop was always my main motivator. Whether I was climbing in Moraine Park or fishing Fall River, it was here where I—and many kids—developed a taste and appreciation for the profound and life-changing effects of the outdoors and America’s public lands.

The author and his sister as children in Rocky Mountain National Park. Photo courtesy of Jonathan Stumpf.

Because of these experiences, I enjoy a fishless day just as much as an afternoon when I can’t keep them off my line. I may have learned the basics of fishing, what trout eat, and how to read a river in my own backyard, but Rocky Mountain National Park is where I learned to forget that I was fishing and just listen to a bugling elk or watch the fog clear from the valley floor on a crisp fall morning. If I’d never set foot in the park, I can guarantee you I’d still fish, but I might not venture as far up the trail or as deep into the backcountry as I do.

We have almost 85 million acres of national parks in America and more than 300 million people visited a national park last year—an all-time high. I think about all the kids in that group who must have experienced public lands for the very first time, and my own kids who are just starting to understand and appreciate the world beyond their schoolyard and city limits. During the warmer months, my wife and I regularly take our son and daughter out to experience the wonder of the national parks and other public lands, in the hopes that someday they will see the value in advocating for them. Sure, fishing is a sport we’d love to see our son and daughter embrace, but we’re just as happy to see them splashing and laughing in a creek or astounded by how the trees are so much bigger than their dad.

Five-year-old Eliza is just one of many kids experiencing the national parks for the first time this summer. Photo courtesy of Jonathan Stumpf.

The parks are an entry-level introduction to a wilder world that our increasingly urban population might not have otherwise. The ripple effect of these formative experiences could be huge for these kids, and decision-makers are starting to understand that. Last year, President Obama launched his Every Kid in a Park initiative, granting free admission to every fourth grader—and their families—to every national park in the country. Secretary of the Interior, Sally Jewell, has subsequently issued Secretarial Orders supporting this.

As our commemoration of the National Park Service Centennial winds down, we embark on another 100 years of caring for our public lands system. And as sportsmen, we have more at stake than most. Our traditions may not be tied to the national parks themselves, but the conservation legacy of leaders like Theodore Roosevelt may come alive for our kids in their first visits to these iconic landscapes. We are all, certainly, better off for having the opportunity to enjoy them.

All month long, we’ve celebrated the National Park Service Centennial with a blog series about our most significant experiences in the parks. This is the final post. Thanks for reading, and remember to keep following #PublicLandsProud on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram.

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Coby Tigert

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posted in: General

August 30, 2016

Like a Holiday Season for Hunters, Fall is Coming

We prepare to celebrate opening day and all the traditions that come with it 

Yesterday at sunrise, a cool, down-canyon breeze brushed my face and jarred my memories. Finally, fall is coming. I smiled as my mind drifted past the day’s chore list to what will surely be going on as I gather with some of my favorite hunting companions for the first night of elk camp.

My friend Mike’s camo will be airing out in the trees while he cooks. The meal will affect his pace tomorrow, but he loves food to much to care. My wife Linda will be checking her pack, making sure her water bottle is full and flashlight batteries are fresh. The best bugler in camp, she’ll be running ridges on opening morning and, as always, she’ll hear more elk than the rest of us combined.

The author’s elk camp accommodations: a tepee. Image courtesy of Coby Tigert.

My brother Mack and buddy Mark will huddle together, plotting their annual first-day hunt in “the bowl.” Mark, a football lineman in college, and my brother Mack, an outstanding high school quarterback too small for college ball, always strike me as a comical “Stan and Ollie” hunting team. But they get it done.

I’ll be sharpening broadheads and listening to their decades-old stories, embellished more and more each year. Soaking up the fire’s heat, I’ll check that my alarm is set. Elk season will start in the morning.

Heaven and Earth
Each September means archery elk season on Idaho’s 32 million acres of public lands. The cool nights and warm days in the high country are like heaven for a public lands hunter, perfect for chasing bugling bulls, taking afternoon naps, and enjoying long campfire conversations with old friends.

The author’s wife, Linda, took this mule deer with her recurve. Image courtesy of Coby Tigert.

Our group has shared a camp in the Caribou National Forest for more than three decades, and we’ve explored every nook and cranny within ten miles of it. We’ve harvested dozens of animals there. Each of us has a favorite spot or two where we always get into elk.

Like most hunting buddies, the pursuit of wildlife and wild places brings us together. We are closer in these vast landscapes than we are in somebody’s living room.

September in Idaho could mean snowfall at elk camp. Image courtesy of Coby Tigert.

Unfortunately, 640 million acres of our public playgrounds are being eyed by folks who would rather see ownership of America’s public lands transferred or sold off to the highest bidder, which would make these areas off-limits to sportsmen like us forever. The future of our hunting camp, and the ability to pass on our traditions to our children, depends on us standing up for public lands and our access.

The cool wind yesterday was a reminder that the season is near, and I still have a few chores left to tend to before we head for high country. As I walked back to my house, a sound erupted from my pocket—the elk bugle ringtone that signals an incoming call from Mike. He feels it, too. Fall is coming.

Make this part of your pre-season routine: Take action to protect our public lands legacy by signing the petition at sportsmensaccess.org.

Ed Tamson

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posted in: General

August 25, 2016

Now or Neverglades: A Region and a National Park at a Crossroads

How an unexpected dunk in the Everglades helped TRCP’s new Florida field representative become a proactive advocate for restoration – and how you can help too

Three months ago, for the first time ever, I fell off my skiff’s poling platform. I was flyfishing for tarpon in the Everglades with a friend when I lost my balance and tumbled backwards into the water five feet below. I was fortunate to miss the motor prop and only suffered from a painful combo of oyster abrasions, soreness, and wounded pride, plus plenty of mud and water up my nose, but it was a wake-up call.

Everglades. Image courtesy of Audubon Florida.

I’d been thinking about the environmental crisis facing Florida, focusing on all that was wrong and problematic. I wasn’t immune to finger-pointing—at the Army Corps of Engineers, state and federal government, Florida agriculture, and unbridled growth—and the more I learned about the problems in Florida, the more stress I felt. Thinking about all of this had turned me into a downer, and frankly I wasn’t doing anyone any good by dwelling. My unexpected splashdown made me realize that I had to pick myself up, figuratively and literally, and work toward change.

Sanibel Island. Image courtesy of Napa Daily News.

Our challenges are great. Over the last few months, toxic algae blooms along the east and west coasts of Florida have been the focus of national media attention. Yet, the most significant cause of the disaster, the discharge of untreated and polluted water from Lake Okeechobee into the Caloosahatchee and St. Lucie rivers, still hasn’t been resolved. This is an environmental and quality-of-life disaster for sportsmen and women and all Florida residents.

With the National Park Service centennial this month, it’s important to point out what this means for Everglades National Park. While the park does protect a fraction of the Everglades’ waters from pollution and diversion, an effective conservation plan requires that action be taken over a large geographic, and political, landscape. If we don’t care for the entire watershed—Lake Okeechobee and all the rivers that flow south—then all that will be left of Everglades National Park will be a boundary on a map.

Caption: The Everglades historically flowed south. Today, high water is diverted east and west to coastal communities. Illustrations courtesy of US Army Corps of Engineers.

Florida fishermen won’t stand idly by and let that happen. As for me, I started with what I know: I love the Florida Everglades, both coasts, Florida Bay, the Florida Keys, and the fish, wildlife, and people these areas support. My local community and the next generation of sportsmen and women deserve to see Florida’s fisheries restored. I resolved to do my part in making that happen.

Then I got lucky. Very lucky.

Ed Tamson Poling. Image courtesy of Robert Tamson.

Two months ago, I was hired as the TRCP’s Florida field representative and joined a team of colleagues who are focused on solutions for conservation issues impacting sportsmen and women across the country. This has given me hope and purpose.

Yes, I am still concerned about the challenges facing Florida, but I do what I can every day to by working with partners, diverse interest groups, and lawmakers to find solutions for the Florida Everglades that improve water quantity and quality for our wildlife, fish, and people. I’m learning that we can all become more effective advocates.

My fellow Florida sportsmen are still out fishing and hunting during this water crisis and, with all the local spending we drive through our sports, this is important. So is collaborating on solutions and presenting a unified front as we appeal to decision-makers to do what’s best for fish and wildlife.

That’s where you can help—sign the Now or Neverglades Declaration to show lawmakers that you support Everglades restoration. It took a humiliating fall off a poling platform to wake me up, but you can stay dry and make a positive difference today with just a few clicks of your mouse.

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posted in: General

August 24, 2016

Celebrating Our National Parks: Public Lands Feed the Soul (and Six Hungry Young Men)

Hard-earned fish and forage in a national park that’s far from the crowds

Freshman-year procrastination still in full effect, a handful of my closest friends and I picked up the last of our food, fuel, and supplies on our way to the Queen IV ferry dock in Copper Harbor, Mich. We figured we had enough. Ready or not, we watched the shoreline creep away. Our weeklong public lands adventure in Isle Royale National Park had begun.

Isle Royale is a 45-mile-long island on the north end of Lake Superior. Only accessible by seaplane or on a wavy 3.5-hour ferry ride, the park hosts fewer visitors in a year than Yellowstone National Park sees in a single day, but that’s just the way we like it. None of us had ever attempted a trip like this. We were car campers at best, with most of our fishing days spent on the decks of our parents’ motorboats. Canoeing and portaging our way from one waterway to the next through a secluded national park would be exciting, unchartered territory.

Lunch break and rock hunting at one of the many historic light houses of Isle Royale. Image courtesy of Ethan Hornacek.

The remote island is protected by 450 smaller islands and peppered with dozens of inland lakes, making the archipelago an ideal destination for anglers but also quite a challenge. Fishing while paddling six miles against the wind on big water proved difficult, and we ended our first day with sore backs, blistered hands, and exactly zero fish.

On day two, we tried a calmer three-mile paddle into a protected cove of Lake Superior. From here, we conducted the first of our trip’s seven portages, lugging our 60-pound backpacks to the destination, doubling back, and then making the trek a third time with our aluminum canoes over our heads.

No wonder we were the only fools doing this.

Our campsite that night was on an inland lake 2.5 miles in, making it a 7.5-mile afternoon. We were quickly rewarded, though, with a plethora of northern pike. We ate our fill that night.

The author holds up his bruiser of a lake trout caught jigging on Siskiwit Lake, Isle Royale’s largest inland lake at 4,150 acres. Image courtesy of Ethan Hornacek.

It is critical for any hunter or angler to know the regulations of the area—it’s the part we all play in conservation—and we were armed with a Michigan fishing license for Lake Superior and its banks. We were surprised to learn that no license at all is needed to fish the island’s inland lakes, where you’re only limited by how much you can eat—no need to catch more than that, though you could. Additional rules apply, of course: Barbless hooks are required and, to keep the fishery productive, instead of minimum size requirements, park regs insist that we don’t keep fish above a certain size. Brook trout are off-limits, too.

Once we hit the island’s lakes, we couldn’t keep the fish out of our canoes. We caught northern pike, walleyes, and even some big lakers. We coated the fillets in fry mix and seasonings, then pan-fried them over our camp stove. Our remaining rations—flaked potatoes, pasta, beans, and rice—became side dishes instead of entrees. The chipmunks looked mighty jealous.

Even with the bounty of fish, we quickly realized that we underestimated the number of calories needed for six men on a weeklong backcountry excursion; our food supplies were getting low and we couldn’t eat enough. Fires are not allowed at most campsites, and frying fish over a camp stove uses quite a bit of fuel. Once we ran out, we’d have no way of cooking the fish or boiling water. We were saved when a group camping nearby watched us pull fish in one after another and commented on how tasty a fresh fish dinner would be. Turns out they had overpacked on fuel and were happy to shed some pack weight. Some good ol’ backcountry bartering ensued and we struck a deal: three filleted walleye for two cans of isobutene-propane.

We hit Lake Superior again the next day and pulled in a 41-inch northern pike, a Coho salmon, and two whitefish. We chilled the stringer in the frigid waters of the deepest and biggest of the Great Lakes to stretch our supply over multiple meals. Just when we thought it couldn’t get much better, we stumbled upon a jackpot of wild blueberries.

Late August is berry season on Isle Royale, and there are no bears to compete with at this National Park. Pictured here, wild blueberries. Image courtesy of Ethan Hornacek.

The park fed us, and I’ll never forget how proud I was of our self-reliance. With so few visitors, it felt like we owned those waters and wild areas. As the debate over federal land ownership continues, I realize this is exactly the case: We do own these lands. So, as we celebrate the National Park Service Centennial, I’m proud to remind others of the true value of public lands and the treasures they hold.

Even if you’re months away from your next backcountry hunt or hike, you can sign the petition to keep public lands in public hands right now.

Andrew Farron holds a bachelor’s degree in mechanical engineering from the University of Michigan. He resides in Traverse City, Mich. with his fiancé, Sarah, and black Labrador, Luna. Andrew seems to always catch more – and bigger – fish than his older brother, Kevin.

All month long, we’re celebrating the National Park Service centennial with a blog series about our most significant experiences in the parks. Check back here for new posts from the TRCP staff and special guests, and follow the hashtag #PublicLandsProud on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram

 

Dani Dagan

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posted in: General

August 18, 2016

Beyond the Parks: Hidden Gems of the National Park Service

While America’s iconic national parks get all the glory, the National Park Service Centennial is also a time to celebrate these three types of public lands and what they offer sportsmen

Being from California and living most of my life in the West, I have spent a whole lot of time on public lands. Between hiking, climbing rocks, and road-tripping in my free time, and working as a wildlife field technician after college, I have logged countless hours learning what folks are (and are not) allowed to do on various types of public land. I have learned that they are not all created equal, and while national parks get a lot of publicity and love, the exclusion of hunting and fishing – not to mention heavy crowds – can leave sportsmen behind.

In honor of the National Parks Centennial, I’d like to shine the spotlight on a few National Parks Service lands that aren’t national parks ­– there are, in fact, more than 20 NPS designations. The opportunities that exist on these lands just might surprise you.

 

Badlands National Park. Image courtesy of Dani Dagan.

National Recreation Areas

A special designation for areas located around major water reservoirs or urban centers, all 18 national recreation areas allow fishing and/or hunting of some kind. However, before you pack up your rod, rifle, or bow, be aware that the rules vary from unit to unit. In the Santa Monica Mountains National Recreation Area (SAMO), for example, hunting is only allowed on private property nested within park boundaries.

I grew up in the suburbs of Los Angeles, just a 15-minute ride away from SAMO—a huge patchwork landscape of federal, state, and private property, and even a strip of the pacific coast, that’s full of rock climbing opportunities and purple sage. This was where I fell in love with fresh air and solitude, and to this day the smell of sage makes me feel like I’m on summer vacation. Later, when I was working as a wildlife intern at SAMO, I saw firsthand the value of this multi-purpose land designation, which focused on human use rather than pristine preservation, as a “gateway drug” – turning city rats into public lands advocates.

Biological survey site in the Santa Monica Mountains National Recreation Area. Image courtesy of Dani Dagan.

National Seashores and Lakeshores

Just last week, I visited Assateague Island, a national seashore with opportunities for shore fishing and limited hunting seasons for waterfowl, foxes, rabbits, and mourning doves. There are ten national seashores and four national lakeshores in the country, and fishing and/or hunting is permitted on all of them. Again, site regulations may vary. For example, at Indiana Dunes National Lakeshore,  Indiana Dunes National Lakeshore hunting is prohibited, but fishing for trout and salmon is permitted—and popular.

Assateague Island National Seashore permits fishing, oversand parking, hunting, crabbing, and an assortment of other recreational activities. Image courtesy of Dani Dagan.

National Preserves

There are 19 national preserves, where extractive activities, including hunting and fishing, are permitted. Some of these are adjacent to other NPS lands that prohibit hunting and fishing, allowing for multiple uses of a contiguous landscape.

Theodore Roosevelt Island

I’d like to give a final shout out an NPS site that allows neither hunting nor fishing, but does pay homage to our number one guy here at TRCP. If you’ve ever visited Washington, D.C., you may have noticed that the presidential monuments are governed by NPS. Theodore Roosevelt Island is no exception. However, in contrast to those massive blocks of expertly sculpted concrete and stone, T.R.’s capitol city memorial is a lush island comprised of upland woods and swampy bottoms—very fitting for the foremost conservationist president.

Trailhead on Theodore Roosevelt Island. Image courtesy of Dani Dagan.

The island is a legitimate hiking destination in its own right. In fact, the friend I visited with had been there several times, just to walk the trails, without ever noticing the manicured memorial at its heart.  And I think that’s how T.R. would have wanted it – he urged Americans to not only protect our land, but immerse ourselves in it.

Image courtesy of Dani Dagan.

As we celebrate the National Park Service Centennial this month, I hope that sportsmen and women across the country can be proud of our stake in all of these uniquely American public lands—for every icon, there’s a hidden gem. While the NPS centennial campaign may be branded “find your park,” we hope everyone to finds their public land, whatever designation it may be. With all the opportunities they offer us to wet a line, glass a ridgeline, see our breath in a morning duck blind, or just to be transported from our everyday lives, they all deserve to be celebrated and enjoyed.

All month long, we’re celebrating the National Park Service centennial with a blog series about our most significant experiences in the parks. Check back here for new posts from the TRCP staff and special guests, and follow the hashtag #PublicLandsProud on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram

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