PC: Kyle Jenkins

Post #2 in a series on weird things I’ve done for money.

There are some jobs that fall in your lap, not because you are qualified but because you are available. This is one such story.

I moved to Utah without a job and took whatever I could find while searching for something more permanent. In just 18 months I was a ski town nanny, granny clothes salesperson at an outlet store, a turkey sandwich expediter and a kindergarten teacher at a private school (for a hot minute).

I had applied for approximately 80 outdoor education or university related jobs before being called in for an interview for a full-time, year-round position with the Girl Scouts.

They were looking for a Ranger for their large, remote camp property. This person would provide rangering services including but not limited to:

• chainsawing
• water treating
• moose herding
• plumbing
• electrical wiring
• demolishing
• wood chopping
• trespasser shooing
• snowmobile repairing
• heavy duty cookie lifting

I had applied for a couple program jobs with the Girl Scouts, so I was already in the system. The last ranger had been terminated suddenly. Their other options didn’t work out. And, for whatever reason, I came recommended.

Having little to no relevant experience didn’t deter me. I would be living on-site in a super awesome cabin that I could ski in and out of in the winter. I’d have access to three alpine lakes. And, I’d have a good deal of autonomy to make decisions and manage my own time and projects.

I can’t say that I would have hired me. But, to be fair I am a hard worker, resourceful and a quick learner. Also, I was… say it with me–available. If you want a job and you think surely you won’t be hired, submit the flippin’ application. If you have a job in mind right now, bookmark this page and get that application in. What are you waiting for?!

Needless to say, I got the job. And thank God for YouTube. I mean really what can’t you learn with YouTube (and some over-the-phone help from your clever dad)? And what can’t you do with a Home Depot card and a big Dodge truck?

Here are the top 5 best things I remember about this job:

1. Laying on a paddleboard whenever I wanted, alone, in the middle of a deep, cold, alpine lake surrounded by mountains and aspen.
2. Ripping around hundreds of acres on my 2-seater rangering Ranger, or my big truck, or my snowmobiles.
3. Having an entire room in my workshop filled with expired cookies. Filled. To the ceiling. Please take a moment to imagine this. Filled.
4. Singing to our funny herd of 5 male moose each morning.
5. Having and using a whole shop full of tools I had previously little to no knowledge of. They have the most satisfying names: drill press, reciprocating saw, random orbital sander, pneumatic log splitter…

One of the biggest and most important tasks I had was to “make water” each day. The camp had its own water treatment center built into the side of a steep hill. From the gravel road, all you could see were a couple concrete steps leading up to a heavy, windowless, steel door with an escape hatch several feet above.

The door opened into a dank, dimly lit, concrete hallway which led about 30 feet into the side of the hill. Even after months of doing this task every day, I would still get a sinister feeling alone at night and later in the year when I was snowbound in the flat winter light. OooOooooOOooooo…

Ok, but on this particular day the sun was shining. Camp was full of little people. And, I was up early to meet a special visitor. The water inspector was scheduled to come at 9 so, I thought it would be a good idea to take a quick look at the various parts of the system before he got there.

The time- 6:41 am. Water quality at the point-of-use. Good. Flock and chlorine levels in the processing facility. Within normal range. Cistern. Looked fine (except for that I’m sure Samara from The Ring lived in there.)

The last thing to check was our water source. It  was a small lake called Judge Blood and, it was inaccessible by truck or even my zippy little Ranger.

The time- 7:32 am. I parked about a quarter mile from Judge Blood and walked up to check out the intake. Though it looked fine, something told me to do a quick lap around the lake before heading back down.

I wasn’t quite halfway around the lake when I encountered a wall of stench. This was the kind of foul smell you can taste. The kind that doesn’t just blow by you. The kind you must wade through.

I searched for the source and, it didn’t take long to find. Floating about 20 feet from the shoreline was a large, bloated, 12-point buck. I was new to the water treatment game but, something about a rotting carcass in the lake just didn’t sit right with me.

The time- 7:55 am. I had just over an hour to extract the deer, hide the body, race back to camp, shower and meet the inspector. I broke into a run and made a bee line for the Ranger in hopes of returning with some useful tools. I didn’t find much, but luckily I had a length of static rope and a pair of work gloves. I buzzed back up to the lake. There was no time to lose. With blind determination, I splashed into the epicenter of the funk wearing my brand new, white, Patagonia trail runners.

The lake was shallow and the buck’s rack was wide and grabby. I didn’t get far trying to pull him along by his antlers as they were dragging along the bottom of the lake. I could use some extra leverage, I thought. So, I clove hitched two of the deer’s legs, braced myself on the bank and pulled with all my might.

Progress was slow but, he was certainly moving a bit. I wrapped the rope around my hips and really leaned into it. But then-POP! Off flew one of his hooves! Leaving only a gummy, pink nub. Did you even know animals were built that way? Because, I was certainly not expecting that.

The time- 8:22 am. I reattached the rope to the deer’s rack lifting and pulling until his body arrived at the shoreline, his nub waving as I heaved. I couldn’t leave him there and, pulling it with the rope was no longer helpful. The only thing I could do was to straddle it, grab its legs and strain to roll it. I reset its giant head parts and repeated that once more until I was exhausted and thoroughly drenched in lakewater and funk.

The time- 8:39. There was no way I was moving that deer any farther and, I was running out of time. I quickly collected some duff and vines and grass and did my best to camouflage the corpse. But, I knew that if the inspector chose to walk around the lake, I would be easily found out.

There was nothing to do but zoom back to the cabin, jump in the shower and scrub hopelessly.

The time- 9:03 am. The inspector arrived. Undeterred by the lingering musk, he rode with me to the processing facility. Check. To the cistern. Check. And, finally to Judge Blood Lake.

The intake was all clear. Check, check, check. But, like I had thought earlier, the inspector wondered- why not take a turn about the lake?

No, no, no, nooooo. Ok. My mind was racing. What will I say when he discovers the still-wet body poorly disguised on the bank of the lake? How will I explain to the children and mothers and administrators that the water was safe to drink despite the morose scene at Judge Blood.

We were approaching the wall of stink when, concluding that he’d seen quite enough, the inspector suggested we wrap up and head back to his truck.

The time- 9:35 am. Already exhausted but bouyed by relief, I set about another long, summer day of rangering. And, if you were wondering what happened to my sneakers, I’m still wearing them for odd jobs five years later.