COLORADO SPRINGS, Colo. _ Steve Hedberg has experienced the best and the worst of camping.
On the Fourth of July weekend, he camped in the backcountry of Pike National Forest; a springy bed of pine needles underneath him, a canopy of tall ponderosa pines framing the sky. A waterfall whispered nearby.
When the weekend ended, he packed up his gear and his trash and hiked back to his car, leaving no trace of his presence.
Early the next morning, he headed out to other campsites scattered throughout Pike National Forest. Not to camp, but to clean up.
What he found would shock anyone who loves the outdoors.
Trash. Mountains of trash. Trash that stank, that oozed, that was a minefield of broken glass and pieces of metal. Old mattresses. Car tires. Tangled fishing line and broken coolers.
Hedberg is head of maintenance for Rocky Mountain Recreation Company, a private concessionaire hired in 1995 by the U.S. Forest Service to maintain and manage their 38 campgrounds and 15 day-use areas in Pike National Forest.
He was hired to solve problems _ fix broken doors on pit toilets, replace worn picnic tables, cut down trees that could be hazardous to campers, make sure plumbing is working properly.
Instead, he and his crew spend much of their time collecting, bagging and hauling trash. They're only responsible for the Pike National Forest, but the trash problem they face every day isn't unique.
The explosion in popularity of outdoor recreation has a lot to do with the trashing of America's campgrounds. A 1989 U.S. Forest Service study showed that the participation rate in developed camping was expected to grow 20 percent by 2000, and another 80 percent from 2000-2040. Tent camping alone increased 12 percent just in 1994, according to American Sports Data.
Much of the infrastructure of public campgrounds has been in place 30 years or more; in those 30 years, use has more than tripled, according to the Outdoor Recreation Coalition of America, a Boulder-based industry group. In Colorado alone, nearly 43 percent of residents camp, according to a 1994-95 survey conducted by the Sporting Goods Manufacturers Association.
On the Monday after the long Fourth of July weekend, the problem was most acute at three campgrounds in the Pike National Forest: Ospry, Ouzel and Platte River, all along the South Platte River, on a winding stretch of Colorado Highway 67 north of Deckers.
The campgrounds were nearly deserted on the cool, hazy morning, but there was no question it had been a big weekend. Fire grates were piled with trash. Broken trash bags sagged against signboards where regulations are posted. Trails of toilet paper twisted from campsites to the river. A single dumpster, at the Platte River campground, was buried beneath a mountain of garbage. Crows snacked on bits of food, and bees buzzed busily.
The campgrounds are within 20 miles of one another and have many similarities. They're immediately off a busy highway, they're near major metropolitan areas (in this case, a double whammy _ Denver and Colorado Springs), and, while they're regularly patrolled, they don't have the support staff of a self-contained state or national park.
All those factors make them prime candidates for abuse, says Brian Roney, operations manager for Rocky Mountain Recreation's parent company, California-based Pyramid Enterprises, which places concessionaires in campgrounds on public lands throughout the West.
``A lot of how a campground is treated has to do with the history of an area. In some places, there was a fee charged before we took over, or if fees were charged, they weren't collected. In we walk, and we're the bad guys, charging them money. People resent the system, and resent having to pay a fee. Sometimes they retaliate.''
Campgrounds like this trio are hardest hit after big camping weekends such as the Fourth of July or the upcoming Labor Day, says Frank Landis, recreation staff officer for the Pikes Peak Ranger District of the National Forest Service.
``Accessibility is the key,'' Landis says. ``In the campgrounds that are located close to major highways, there's more traffic, and there's more of a household dumping problem.''
That's right _ household, as in worn-out car tires, old mattresses, and trash that had its start in somebody's home but ended up in a campground.
Yes, people do take their own trash to campgrounds, to freeload a trash pickup fee or to take advantage of services they believe they're owed by the government.
The Forest Service is particularly hard on those trash-dumpers if they're caught.
``We've gone through trash we think has been dumped, and checked magazine labels. Those people have been prosecuted,'' Landis says. Stopping off at a campground to deposit your household trash can get you an illegal dumping fine of $75.
But what if the trash you leave is the trash you made camping? There's no fine for leaving it, unless the signs tell you not to. But Landis is optimistic that people will realize how hard it is to service campgrounds with trash pickup, and take it home for their own curbside pickup.
Still, most campgrounds offer some sort of trash services for their campers. ``In some high-volume campgrounds, we have to have somewhere for people to put their trash. Even if we preach `pack it in, pack it out,' and take away all the cans and dumpsters, some people will still leave their trash,'' says Roney.
The company also uses dumpsters as transfer points for its staff to deposit trash they gather from areas trucks can't reach.
Forest Service campgrounds have always been remote and more primitive than those found in state and national parks. They were designed that way, and they appeal to people who really want to get away. But that design also makes them more susceptible to abuse.
Colorado park officials have a geographic advantage at Mueller State Park near Divide, says Mueller ranger John Geerdes. Geerdes says he doesn't envy the people who take care of campgrounds in the million-acre Pike National Forest or the rest of the 380 U.S. Forest Service campgrounds in Colorado, many of them miles into the forest on rocky one-lane roads.
At Mueller, campers are provided six dumpsters, and park rangers patrol the main paved road continuously. ``We have strict regulations, and we're constantly reminding people about how to store their food and where to take their trash,'' Geerdes says.
The park's campgrounds, built on a ridge, make monitoring campsites fairly easy, Geerdes says. ``We have somebody here all the time. If someone isn't following the rules, we catch it right away.''
No studies are available on whether campers who trash their campsite are the same ones who do other environmental damage _ carve their initials in trees, cut down trees for firewood, and throw their foil and glass into the campfire _ but Cathy McKeen thinks they're all the same, bad-mannered lot.
``I think there are a couple of factors,'' says McKeen, a veteran backpacker, camper and member of the Colorado Mountain Club. ``I think the people who trash campgrounds treat their own houses the same way, or they think the park service is supposed to clean up after them.''
Who is trashing the wilderness? It depends on who you ask. Hikers blame fishers. Fishers blame hunters. Small-town folk blame those from the big city, and vice versa.
But one thing is certain _ the trashing of campgrounds is not just a local problem. In fact, trash is piling up in one of the least accessible places on Earth: 29,028-foot Mount Everest.
In 1993, the Nepal Mountaineering Association determined Everest held about 60 tons of garbage, about 10-15 tons of it at heights of more than 26,400 feet.
The threat of Everest becoming a frozen trash heap hadn't gone unnoticed. In 1990, the International Peace Climb, an international task force formed to clean the mountain, tackled the problem. Wayne Baughman of Colorado Springs, a climber and triathlete, was a part of that group.
He and others were there to clean up base camps on the mountain. At camps up to 21,300 feet, they buried trash when they could dig up the ground, and gathered glass, food containers, countless gas canisters, abandoned tents, clothing, and equipment.
``I guess you have to remember that although the most accessible places are the most trashed, they also are the easiest to clean up. It's hard to think about trash when every step, every breath, is an effort,'' Baughman says. ``But the idea of trash anywhere _ on the trails here or on Everest _ should be a reminder for people to carry out what they carry in.''
So what's the answer? Those who manage public campgrounds hope education will help cut down on the mess in the future.
State and national parks have long sponsored outdoor-education programs. Forest Service programs are a longstanding tradition, too; now they're underwritten by Rocky Mountain Recreation. Similar programs are ongoing at city and county parks throughout the country.
``We have to educate people about how to treat the outdoors, and talk about things like recycling,'' Roney says. ``And we have to have a presence in the campgrounds _ somebody who can monitor what goes on, and remind people to think about where they put their trash.''
Often, stringent regulations work best. On Alaska's 20,320-foot Mount McKinley, the highest peak in North America, Baughman says, climbers are required to carry out everything they carry onto the mountain, and human waste is deposited in trash bags that are thrown into deep crevasses.
But perhaps the best hope for the future is in the individual.
Far away from the area's established campgrounds, Carol Hadl has her own trash-management plan. Hadl, chairman of the Pikes Peak Group of the Colorado Mountain Club, remembers a recent hike to a favorite family destination _ Stanley Lake, above the Air Force Academy.
``You wouldn't believe the trash we saw. The north end of the lake that butts up to the dam was full _ I mean full _ of disposable food items you can buy in machines _ juice packages, cheese packages _ a tarp, plastic bottles, pop cans.''
Hadl was incensed by the garbage, but she also was moved to action.
``I filled two grocery bags I happened to bring along, and we could have filled more if we had the bags. Other people helped us carry the stuff out because there was so much.''
PHOTO will be available from KRT Photo Service, 202-383-6099.
(c) 1996, Colorado Springs Gazette Telegraph. Distributed by Knight-Ridder/Tribune Information Services.
