Turbulent Tents
Winter has officially arrived in Rocky Mountain National Park. I can state this with confidence, not because of the dusting of snow on the ground and the cooler temperatures, but because I was blown across a parking lot the other day.

I've lived in some windy places, but I've never experienced anything like the wind of Estes Park in the winter months. It carries off anything that isn't secured: roofing materials . . . downed trees . . . small children. I've learned to keep a tight hold on items while outdoors and I've discovered that grocery carts, if not closely restrained, tend to make runaway leaps into parked cars.

Winds are consistently at their strongest here during the winter, but summer is not immune to hurricane-force gusts. During a study conducted in 1980-81, gusts of 74 mph or higher were frequently recorded at the Alpine Visitor Center in both winter and summer. The researchers, who recorded wind speeds of 155 mph on Trail Ridge Road and 201 mph on the summit of Longs Peak, concluded that "the winds in Rocky Mountain National Park are exceptionally turbulent and among the world's most severe."

It's one thing if the wind picks up when you're in the town of Estes Park, trying to control a shopping cart in a parking lot; it's another thing all together when you're on the side of a mountain in a tent.

Last June, four Park Service maintenance employees were working at Chasm Meadow (about half-way up the Longs Peak trail) when their tents began to come down around them in the middle of the night during a snowstorm. Click below for a video of Tate, one of those employees, relating the story of that evening and the power of wind in Rocky Mountain National Park.

To view video click here or on picture of Tate.

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Thursday, November 13, 2008

The Price of Living in Paradise
It is 4:00 a.m. as I write this, and I've given up attempting to sleep for the rest of the night. Chalk another one up for the elk. The official count so far is: elk - 56; Renelle - 4.

I lived in Glacier National Park in Montana for 10 years before I moved to Rocky, and I've always appreciated the sounds of wildlife outside my window. All were welcome: the call of a mountain lion to her kitten, the soft hoot of an owl, even the banging of deer antlers against my house as the last pathetic flower in my yard got its head chomped off. I grew up on a farm in North Dakota, and the low mooing of cattle often mixed with the yipping of fox and coyotes to drift across the prairie at night. I've always balanced the loss of sleep against the realization and appreciation of how fortunate I was to live in areas where hoots and howls were the only breaks in the silence.

Then I moved in next to an elk herd. "The rut," the elk mating season, usually starts in late August or early September and lasts for 6-8 weeks. Sleep as I knew it is long gone, replaced by the continuous screeching of bull elk calling to cows. It's difficult to explain what these bulls sound like, except that it's nothing like the majestic bugling in movies – in my sleep-deprived state, they sound more like demented train whistles. I suspect there's not a cow elk within 40 miles that isn't experiencing hearing loss.

I know there are plenty of you who would gladly trade the blaring sounds of city nightlife for an elk serenade. But sleep is sleep, and even your favorite band playing outside your window might get a little tiring after 60 nights in a row. Someone suggested ear plugs, but the paranoid side of me whispers that I might sleep through some emergency I'd rather not miss.

So I guess I'll just shut off my computer, crack open the window, and listen to the elk symphony for the rest of the night. It's worth it for the privilege to live here. However, tomorrow I might start planning a long vacation for next fall . . . somewhere nice and quiet, like NY or Chicago.

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Introduction

Hi! My name is Renelle, and I'm an Information Technology (IT) Specialist here at Rocky Mountain National Park.  

When I tell people I work for the National Park Service, the first question I usually hear is, "Are you a ranger?" This is followed by a hopeful look, as if they want me to reply, "Yes, I dangle from helicopters, ski vertical mountainsides, and scale cliff faces. In fact I just may be the closest thing to a superhero you'll ever meet." 

The truth is, I've never been in a helicopter, and I haven't tried downhill skiing since flailing end-over-end down a slope in eighth grade. Fortunately, national parks also employ mere mortals like me who work in the background to help keep parks running smoothly. 

Rangers often do have exciting jobs, and while they enjoy the satisfaction of a successful rescue, they don't seem to show the same enthusiasm when challenged with a difficult computer glitch. Part of my job is to offer technical assistance so they can head back outdoors as quickly as possible. Sound boring? Actually, it's fun and interesting since I work in every office in the park and have a unique opportunity to view a wide variety of jobs from behind the scenes. I'll be passing some of these glimpses on to you along with any other stories I deem worthy as I live and work here. 

Maybe I'll see some of you on down the trail, and for those of you who aren't able to travel here physically, hopefully visiting this blog space will make you feel a little more connected to Rocky Mountain National Park.

Your comments are welcome and may be posted on this website. To submit your comment by email, please click here.

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