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bikes/transportation | forest defense

Recreational killers in San Gabrial Mountains

I'm always disgusted and amused
This last Saturday I spent the day in the San Gabrial Mountains as I so often do. I hiked and bicycled up the long highway 39 from Azusa up to Cogswell Damn about 24 miles.

Being on the highway at night is dangerous enough with the drunks and middle aged males out trolling the highway for a spot of homosexual diversion from their normal wife and kids lives. <heh> But I also get the Republicans throwing burning objects, trash, beer cans out the window at me as I bike or hike, together with the frequent "Fagget!" being yelled out the window. Typical Republican IQ and mentality.

Up along the West Fork Road which is closed to motorized vbehicles except for water company and U. S. Forest Service vehicles, in October one can usually find recreational killers roaming the road looking for something to shoot and masturbate over. There is _nothing_ up there in the lower San Gabriel to shoot unless it's squirrels or birds. No deer come down that far, perfering to stay up along Angeles Crest where Elmer Fudd rightards don't go -- because it takes work, honest effort to get there.

These recreational killers disgust and amuse me. They're usually extremely fat, often very drunk, always parading around with a rifle thinking they're hunting -- at least that's what the permit they purchased from the USFS says. They always wind up shooting at rocks -- and inadvertantly people -- while standing on roads, even while standing on the major highway.

Friday night some Elmer was climbing one of the side canyons along West Fork and managed to break its ankle. Normally I'd smile and leave him there screaming for help but the yelling was disturbing my sleep. The USFS came up and rescued the big brave hunter.

What amuses me about such frocking Elmers is that they actually believe there's deer, bear, and even elk up there. The FOrst Service sells these Elmers hunting licenses every year -- good revenue that's about the equal to the lottery -- it's an "idiot tax." I've talked with Freddies down below at the Elmer pen and laughed about the recreational killers who come to the mountains year after year, paying for a license every time, giving up but deciding to shoot up rocks for a bit before climbing back into their SUVs and pick-ups to swerve their way back down the highway, as drunk as a Kennedy.

Just thought I'd share. This is Los Angeles County so the hills every year are _filled_ with rightard Elmers waundering around shooting at rocks and at people like me who sleep in those mountain canyons at night. They set fires when they're lost, one clown winding up killing 11 people with his "signal fire" after the Sun went down and he was shit scared about being in the woods one night.

I've had "hunters" stumble over me while I'm sleeping twice, both times the Elmer has been bleeding and lost, utterly lost just a quarter of a mile from the highway, stumbling around in the dark like a... Well like an Elmer.

And the USFS lets these people do it, year after year. The revenues they bring are apparently more important than the health and safety of the real people who utilize the recreational aspects of the mountains.

My opinions only and only my opinions.

homepage: homepage: http://www.elmerfudd.us/

a choice of weapons 10.Oct.2005 19:16

society's pliers

One Elmer told me he switched from a rifle to a hand gun because, as he put it,"You can't fire a rifle and hold a beer at the sane time."

piece of shit 20.Oct.2005 20:05

i hate you

fuck you ive hunted angeles forest for ten years and filled my tag every year you dont know what your talking about fucking bikefuck bastard next time i see you ill run you over just kidding

I'm lucky to be alive....... 21.Oct.2005 11:59

The Green Redneck

I grew up in SoCal and raced bicycles as a teenager. I did maybe two dozen long road rides up Angeles Crest Highway, past the Mt. Wilson turnoff. Saw a few guys in camo carrying crossbows one time--this is from 1971-1977--but there weren't all armed Bubbas you describe then. Or maybe my club's jersey didn't make me look like a ruminant!