So you’re on the fence about the controversial proposal to create a National North Woods Park in northern Maine. A person of moderation, you are compelled to keep an open mind. Let’s have a tax-funded feasibility study, get all the facts, and let the debate determine the outcome, right? After all, some of the most breath-taking wilderness areas in this country are within the Federal domain, protected in perpetuity by Uncle Sam and managed by the U.S. Park Service under the umbrella of the U.S. Department of the Interior.

Why not Maine?

Well, for one thing, the people who oversee these national parks march to a different drummer. If you don’t think so, try obtaining a federal park permit to hike and camp off the beaten path in back country. I did, two years in a row, at a National Park in the West.

Last year, I drove the 15 miles from my campsite to the Ranger Headquarters to apply for a backcountry hiking/camping permit. A congenial, young lady Ranger from the Bronx – we’ll call her Mary – asked me to fill out an application and pay a fee, which I did. Since it is against park policy to issue the hiking permit more than 24 hours in advance, I was told to return to the Ranger Headquarters the day before I was scheduled to head into the mountains.

“Anytime between 8 a.m and 5 p.m,” Mary said smiling, “You’ll have to view our half hour bear warning video, and then you’ll be on your way.”

As agreed, I showed up at Ranger Headquarters on the appointed day about 2 p.m. Mary’s office was closed. Her note on the door read, “Called out on patrol. Back soon.” Desperate for my backcountry permit, I waited until 5 p.m. Mary did not show, so I left a friendly note on the door of her office. I told Mary that I had waited most of the afternoon for her return and was planning to follow through with my backcountry hike the next day, in spite of not having seen the obligatory bear video. I assured her that I was an experienced woodsman and camper from Maine and would take all neccessary precautions in bear country (food on bear pole, bells on the backpack, etc.)

The next day, following a hot five mile hike, I arrived at 2S1, my duly designated backcountry tent site. I set up camp, hoisted my grub bag on a bear pole and began assembling my fly rod. The solitude was soon broken. Off in the distance, making his way toward me through the sage brush under a brutal mid-day Montana sun was a uniformed Park Ranger.

“Is your name Reynolds,” he asked, with irritation and perspiration oozing from his pores.

“Yes, sir,” I said with the most respectful voice I could muster.

“You are camped illegally,” he said. “Mary ordered me in here to advise you that you cannot camp or hike in bear country without having seen the bear video.”

I apologized and explained the predicament that Mary left me in with her absence from headquarters.

“Against all protocol and park policy, we are granting you this camp permit,” he said through eyes and brows heavy with admonishment. “But you must agree that immediately upon your return you will stop in at HQ and view the bear video.”

I accepted the permit, nodded in the affirmative, and the exasperated Park Ranger abruptly turned and started the long walk back to headquarters.

The fishing was good. No bears showed up, and I never did make it back to see the video of bears mauling campers.

Then this summer, at the same National Park, I stopped at Park Headquarters for a backcountry permit. My prayers were answered; Mary was not there. Judy, another congenial young Ranger who grew up in Chicago, approved my application, accepted my fee, and told me to come back Wednesday promptly at 8 a.m. to receive my backcountry permit and view the bear video.

That Wednesday morning the headquarters opened promptly at 8 a.m., but there was a crowd of backcountry applicants and things got confusing. I could tell that Judy was in the mood to kind of move things along. “Sign here, Mr. Reynolds,” she said. Looking over my application, she looked up and said, “You’ve hiked the backcountry here before, right?”

“Yes, last year,” I said, hoping that Mary wasn’t about to show up for work.

“Well, then, Mr. Reynolds, there is no need for you to view the bear video,” she offered, handing me the precious permit.

“Nope, I guess not,” I said, feeling my nose grow a little longer.

V. Paul Reynolds is editor of the Northwoods Sporting Journal. He is also a Maine Guide, co-host of a weekly radio program “Maine Outdoors” heard Sundays at 7 p.m. on The Voice of Maine News-Talk Network (WVOM-FM 103.9, WCME-FM 96.7) and former information officer for the Maine Dept. of Fish and Wildlife. His e-mail address is [email protected].