Why I Quit My Dream Job

As I place my Stetson hat back on my cubby hook for the very last time, I ponder two things:

  • How did I get to this point; when did this become an imaginable option?
  • If the paid stewards of our protected areas feel at a loss, what is left to do?

Going into my 5th season as a Ranger felt different on the first day back. I felt a dark cloud looming over my head as I reviewed the list of unfinished projects, budget cuts and turnover of new, untrained staff. I felt a doom and gloom as I stepped out of the Parks vehicle and towards another underfunded, understaffed, overpopulated and disrespected park. As I began hiking up the trail I felt a wave of loss – loss for the joy of why I wanted this job in the first place. The bounce in my step and the friendly Ranger smile on my face was gone. But how did I get here?

As I reviewed my work list for the day, my heart sunk. There was too many tasks and not enough time to humanely get them completed. What could I leave behind? What was considered a priority when everything felt like one? My heart beat faster. The environmentalist in me has been suppressed in the last few seasons. I’ve been forced to “assume the best” and leave the park in it’s unkempt state. There’s no keeping up here. As I clean the first outhouse, a line quickly forms. People begin to get impatient and ask me to hurry up. I see a man leaving a bag of garbage behind a tree – but my hands are full. I watch a group of tourists feeding chips to a group of over sized, sick Whiskey Jack birds. I can hear a group asking another to move as they try to line up that perfect selfie. Behind me, a couple is doing a photo-shoot for protein powder and are off trail damaging vegetation. I can’t keep up. And it’s killing me slowly. I get back to the truck, I’m over hours and exhausted. I now have a 2 hour drive ahead of me. The busy highway is flooded with families trying to cross and taking photos on the yellow line. I have to drive away and ignore it, there’s nothing I can do. 

I’ve always been an eternal optimist, or at least I was before diving into this ministry. I liked to assume the best in people – imagine myself in their shoes. I envisioned myself as a Ranger for a decade before getting the job. I took every possible course I could leading up to getting hired on. The day I received my first hire letter, was one for the books. The vision of Rangers strolling through the back-country danced in my head. The smile, the knowledge and comfort in their surroundings, was what I pictured. A Park Ranger, in my eyes, was someone who knew the land inside and out, they knew the names of the trees, birds singing and mountain peaks. They protected the land and enjoyed their work and solitude. 

My first couple seasons were overwhelming to say the least but completely glorious. I cruised the trails with stamina and excitement. I talked to every park visitor and tried to educate and interpret the best I could. I really felt like I belonged out there – like the park somehow summoned me for its protection. As time passed though, things changed. The workload increased, the park use numbers skyrocketed and these beautiful, sacred places began to feel like a Best Buy on Boxing day. I began to feel a change within myself. A negative pressure was building. No matter how fast or hard I worked, it was never enough. No matter how many hours I spent at the trail head or in the park educating, people continued to abuse the park. I was slowly starting to feel like an underpaid babysitter to a very disobedient parade of children. 

I felt this negative pressure starting to leak into all aspects of my life. To the point that I was beginning to be depressed at work. Even though I was surrounded by everything I hold so dearly to my heart (the mountains, rivers, wildlife) the pit in my stomach was expanding. I noticed myself spending my off days debriefing the past shift block. I couldn’t get some of the public interactions or messes I had to clean up out of my head. I couldn’t relax. I couldn’t go spend time outside or in parks because I hated being there. My hope in humanity began to lessen and as I expressed these feelings to my superiors, they were ignored. 

At the end of each season, I would draft a 3 – 5 page report containing all of my suggested improvements and compliance action items that would fix some prominent issues. Identified safety and environmental concerns, as well as personal struggles I was having with each park. As I walked out the door on my seasonal layoff, I would cross my fingers that maybe, just maybe, when I returned the next summer, one item would be checked off the list

That was never the case.

Often times I would return to a budget cut or the list was never viewed at all. The park would look and feel the same, the staff morale would reach beyond miserable and the public remained unimpressed. Locals would be constantly stopping me on the road, trail or by email to voice their concerns – to which I had to say, “we’re doing everything we can.” 

My last summer was when I first felt like quitting my dream job. I had just been called a nasty, sexist profanity for telling someone dogs were not permitted in the park. A fellow Ranger had refused unsafe work and I was feeling very alone. I often felt like I always had to watch my back, always had to be prepared for the worst case scenario. After all, I was far from cell reception and alone with, what felt like, all of the world. This moment hit me like an angry wave. I had never considered quitting until I felt this helpless. I felt like nothing I could do would save this park. No matter how fast I hiked, how much garbage I packed out or how many times I scraped feces off the walls and ceilings of the outhouse. This was our new normal. Every single day. 

As I scrounge up what little optimism is left in my soul, I like to think this could have all been avoided. If those who hold the power, valued our natural world as profoundly as us mere, field workers do. If Rangers were given respect, full time jobs, benefits, support and staffing increased immensely – parks would look a lot different. 

I change my 10 year old, thick cotton shirt for the 3rd time today. It’s non breathe-able material makes me feel sick as I hike in the summer heat. I check to make sure I haven’t lost anything through the holes in my jacket and pant pockets. I feel like a hypocrite telling others to dress accordingly when I can hardly keep my men’s, over sized pants up. I’m worn out, I can’t stomach telling another person to stop hurting the park. This is not the vision I imagined when I dreamed up this job. Far from it. I used to believe that this was what I was meant to do for the rest of my life – now I can hardly keep myself from blacking out with stress when I step out of the vehicle for the day. Our parks need help. And if the boots on the ground can’t do it, who can?

“Stand up for what you believe in – even if it means standing alone”

11 Comments Add yours

  1. Jennifer says:

    I can’t believe these words – they were mine in 2004 – the year I quit my dream job as a backcountry BC Parks Ranger. It’s taken me years but now I can go back out into the mountains and enjoy them again without grieving for what is being lost.
    Thank you for everything you have done and for your words.

    Like

  2. Debarah Bulford says:

    Great article Sarah. Honesty and humility. Love you Mama❤️

    Like

  3. Mollie Dembek says:

    This is heartbreaking. I hate this for our world and parks, and for you. Thank you for sharing and congratulations for making an extremely difficult decision. I don’t think your journey is over, though. I think you will find another way to protect the lands you love. But you won’t lose yourself in the process.

    Like

  4. Pat says:

    So sad but I can see exactly where you are coming from after years of maintaining forest rev sites.🥴

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  5. Judie M. Guignion says:

    So sorry to hear that Sarah. Another door looms on the horizon.

    Like

  6. Peter @reclaim_factory & @maple_the_dingo says:

    Well written. If you wrote a book I would read it and I do not read for fun. Interesting how these things make up who we are in life. I wish we could collectively learn what you have experienced and move forward with that knowledge. It makes me happy to see people move on from things that does not make them happy, especially when its something they dreamed of. It was an honor to meet you, Pearce and Doc that one day, and I wish you all the best and safe travels. Things have changed a lot in the time I have been on this planet and yet they have stayed the same. Stories like yours is something we need to share with our next generation so they can make this a better place. I will pass your knowledge, experience and stories onto my son who is the next generation dreaming and finding their place. Keep sharing and telling it like it is.

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  7. Roz gilbert says:

    Heartbreaking that this is where things are in our parks. We as users see it but it I can see how it would have tortured you as a ranger. Your words are very powerful. You should consider sharing them more broadly

    Like

  8. Michael says:

    My girlfriend forwarded this link to me. She knew that I would strongly relate to your experience. She is Canadian and I am an American live in just South of the border in Bellingham Washington. Almost always when I head into the mountains I lament the things that I witness. All of the things that you mentioned and more. Not only is there incredible pressure from the hordes of weekend peak seekers, it is more than just the numbers. It is the cluelessness of so many who venture into these places that I believe that they love. They don’t understand their impact as they Tromp thru meadows and slide down cuts before a switchback. We are a bit lucky here in Washington that we have an organized nonprofit group called the Washington trails association who do an amazing amount of work on our trail systems. It certainly helps. When I am north of the border I know thWe are a bit lucky here in Washington that we have an organized nonprofit group called the Washington trails association who do an amazing amount of work on our trail systems. It certainly helps. When I am north of the border I notice the trails are generally in much poorer condition and many of them seemed to have been user created. It seems as though there is virtually no trail maintenance. It is puzzling to me given that the Canadian parks charge quite a bit more money for permits. I don’t see an end in sight. With the rise of social media, more and more people who don’t understand how these delicate places are being crushed under foot by those seeking their next delicious selfie. Thank you for your service in these wild places. Your reflections remind me much of the words of Edward Abbie in his book desert solitaire. We don’t get it, and sadly I’m not sure we ever will. For me, we are looking to relocate to a place with far fewer people.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Hey Micheal. Thank you so much for your comment. It’s true, these places we hold so close to our hearts need saving. I’m just not sure how to do it at this point. And if I can’t change it from inside the organization, I’ll have to find a way to spread my words! Thanks for sharing your story and I hope you find solitude soon.

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  9. Paul Cordy says:

    My god. Im so sorry that you had to go through this. I had always imagined how much worse things must be getting for the rangers and knowing what I do about parks admin and the public sector in general I knew that was being compounded… but im gutted to hear the details nonetheless and I want to express my sincere gratitude for your efforts and sorrowful sympathy for your pain. Other than taking on public shaming of non-compliers and hauling trash as i do when i seldom venture into the busy parks, what else can the public like me do to help alleviate this? Writing letters and voting seems remote, indirect and ineffective… If you have some other thoughts I would like to hear them. Thank you for your service. If it weren’t for you the situation would be still worse. Best of luck on your new path.

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  10. zenonaplane says:

    This should be required reading for anyone who heads out into our parks 😦 So sorry you had to go through this. I share in your frustration that there doesn’t seem to be a path forward.

    Like

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