På Tur med Ranger Tomas

Polly vågnede op på shuttle-rælingen, da solen stod op. Bussen havde stået parkeret ved besøgscentret hele natten. En mand i en brun uniform var ved at låse døren op til et lille kontor på den anden side af pladsen. Hans navneskilt sagde T. RODRIGUEZ. Han kiggede op, så hende og lo stille. "Gæstepasset er derovre," sagde han og pegede mod en kiosk. "Eller du kan køre med mig."

Polly woke up on the shuttle railing as the sun came up. The bus had been parked at the visitor centre all night. A man in a brown uniform was unlocking the door of a small office across the lot. His name patch read T. RODRIGUEZ. He looked up, saw her, and laughed once, quietly. "Visitor's pass is over there," he said, pointing at a kiosk. "Or you can ride with me."

Sådan endte Polly med at tilbringe morgenen på passagersædet i en rangerbil, der kørte gennem vildmarken.

That was how Polly came to spend the morning in the passenger seat of a backcountry ranger's truck.

Tomas havde været ranger i Yosemite i fjorten år. Han havde en termokande med kaffe, en clipboard, en radio der knitrede hvert par minutter, og en rygsæk der indeholdt, blandt andet, en sammenfoldet presenning, en lille sav, fire energibarer og en paperback. Han kørte langsomt. Han stoppede ofte.

Tomas had been a ranger at Yosemite for fourteen years. He had a Thermos of coffee, a clipboard, a radio that crackled every few minutes, and a backpack that contained, among other things, a folded-up tarp, a small saw, four energy bars, and a paperback. He drove slowly. He stopped often.

Det første stop var ved en eng nær Sentinel Rock. Tomas tog en bredskygget hat på og gik ud i græsset. Han ledte, fortalte han Polly, efter tegn på at bjørne havde været i gang med at spise af vilde blomster. "I juni kommer kornliljerne op. Bjørne elsker dem. Vi markerer de enge, hvor de spiser, så besøgende giver dem plads."

The first stop was at a meadow near Sentinel Rock. Tomas put on a wide-brimmed hat and walked out into the grass. He was looking, he told Polly, for signs that bears had been browsing on the wildflowers. "In June we get the corn lilies coming up. Bears love them. We mark the meadows where they feed so visitors give them space."

Polly hoppede ned til lastbilens åbne vindue. Græsset var vådt op til hendes knæ. Kornliljerne var endnu ikke kommet op. De var bare grønne spyd omkring en håndsbredde over jorden. Tomas noterede noget på sin clipboard, og de kørte videre.

Polly hopped down to the truck's open window. The grass was wet to her knees. The corn lilies were not up yet. They were just green spears about a hand's width above the ground. Tomas made a small note on his clipboard and they moved on.

Vejen steg. De passerede et skilt, der sagde TIOGA ROAD LUKKET, og et andet der sagde KUN FOR SHUTTLE TRAFIK. Tomas vinkede til en kollega i en anden lastbil, der kom den modsatte vej. Vejen snoede sig op ad granitvæggen af dalen. Luften blev køligere.

The road climbed. They passed a sign that said TIOGA ROAD CLOSED, and another that said FOR SHUTTLE TRAFFIC ONLY. Tomas waved at a colleague in another truck coming the other way. The road wound up the granite shoulder of the valley wall. The air cooled.

Ved en hårnålskurve stoppede Tomas og pegede. En vandrefalk sad på en klippeknold omkring tredive meter væk. Pollys røde hoved vippede. Vandrefalken kiggede på hende, på Tomas og tilbage på hende. Så styrtede den ned fra klippen og var væk.

At one switchback, Tomas stopped and pointed. A peregrine falcon was sitting on a knob of rock about thirty metres away. Polly's red head tilted. The peregrine looked at her, at Tomas, and back at her. Then it dropped off the rock and was gone.

"De bygger rede på klipperne," sagde Tomas. "Vi fik dem fjernet fra listen over truede arter for længe siden, men vi tæller stadig. Vi har seks par i dalen i år."

"They nest on the cliffs," Tomas said. "Pulled them off the endangered list a long while back, but we still count. Got six pairs in the valley this year."

Polly tænkte på falkens styrtdyk. Fra en stående position til væk på under et sekund. Der var en særlig måde, den havde foldet sine vinger på, da den tog af sted. Hun ville prøve det. Måske i morgen.

Polly thought about the falcon's drop. From a standing perch to vanished in less than a second. There was a particular way it had folded its wings as it left. She wanted to try it. Maybe tomorrow.

Ved næste holdeplads gik Tomas ud og ind i skoven alene. Han kom tilbage ti minutter senere med en metalcylinder. "En bjørnesikker madkasse, som nogen har forsøgt at begrave," sagde han. "En læringsmulighed." Han lagde den i lastbilens lad. Cylinderen rullede og klirrede.

At the next pull-off, Tomas got out and walked into the woods alone. He came back ten minutes later carrying a metal cylinder. "Bear-proof food locker someone tried to bury," he said. "Educational opportunity." He put it in the truck bed. The cylinder rolled and clanked.

Omkring middagstid kom de til et udsigtspunkt kaldet Olmsted Point. Hele det høje landskab åbnede sig foran dem. Tenaya-søen i bunden af en granitskål. Half Dome set bagfra. Polargrå bjergtoppe, der svandt ind i disen.

Near noon they came out at an overlook called Olmsted Point. The whole sweep of the high country opened in front of them. Tenaya Lake at the bottom of a granite bowl. Half Dome from behind. Polar grey peaks fading into haze.

"Dette," sagde Tomas, "er den del, de fleste kører forbi." Han hældte en lille mængde kaffe i låget af sin termokande og satte det ved siden af Polly på instrumentbrættet. "Bliv lidt."

"This," Tomas said, "is the part most people drive past." He poured a small amount of his coffee into the lid of his Thermos and set it next to Polly on the dashboard. "Stay a while."