Breaking Camp : Rampant Vandalism Forces Sites in Angeles National Forest to Close

The Palmer family suspected that their neighbors at Big Oak campground in Angeles National Forest were dealing drugs when they saw visitors exchanging money for small packages.

Their irritation increased when their 4-year-old son hurt his hand opening a broken restroom door.

To top it off, they didn’t even want to be at Big Oak. The San Diego family of five had driven four hours to pitch their tents at a more scenic campground straddling a brook that tumbles down a staircase of boulders.

But an iron gate blocked their way at that campsite. It was closed. So were several other campsites scattered along the forest’s winding roads.

“We are a little disgusted,” Rick Palmer said.

The Palmers aren’t alone. More and more campers are discovering that the wilderness experience in Angeles National Forest isn’t as picturesque and relaxing as it once was.

Rangers say there has been a sharp increase in damage to the national forest within the Saugus and Tujunga districts, which spread across 335,000 acres of rugged mountains north of the San Fernando and Santa Clarita valleys.

Persistent Desecration

Desecration of the forest “has just gone crazy,” said Jim McGauley, an assistant recreation and resource officer at the Saugus district.

Unable to financially combat the relentless destruction of park property, rangers are closing campgrounds. In the Saugus district, six of the 20 campgrounds, one picnic area and about 80 miles of the 200-mile network of hiking trails have been placed off-limits to the public in the past two years.

More closures are contemplated if the vandalism continues at its current pace.

“In some cases we’ve obliterated campgrounds, torn them out,” said Mike Wickman, a Saugus forest ranger.

Other sites in the Tujunga and Saugus forests have been restricted to day use to discourage vandals, many of them teen-agers, from terrorizing campers and damaging the campgrounds when they party after dark.

Forest rangers recite a litany of woes about the disfigurement of the forest.

The life expectancy of newly installed wooden signs in the forest varies from five days to three weeks. The signs--the more elaborate cost $800--are regularly used for target practice by visitors who take arsenals of machine guns, rifles, pistols and armor-piercing bullets.

The canyons where gunfire is permitted are littered with abandoned cars, water heaters, TV sets and other debris that shooters have illegally taken in to use as targets. The garbage has prompted forest employees to rename these areas the “national dump.”

Cars Erode Trails

Off-road-vehicle enthusiasts have eroded trails set aside for hikers and horseback riders. Graffiti abound, and in one case, vandals broke into a cave that contained ancient Indian drawings. At a nature area for the handicapped, vandals destroyed Braille signs identifying trees. The signs, thrown in a duck pond, have never been replaced.

Volunteer hosts, who live at the camp sites, say they see children being harassed by bikers, drug dealing and physical assaults. Rangers say families are often hesitant to pitch a tent in a vacant campground out of fear that no one will hear them if they need help.

Forest rangers are not sure what compels the minority of forest users to splinter a picnic table with a hatchet or throw a bomb in a toilet. But they do have some theories.

“We’re the green space for Los Angeles. People like to release their urban pressures when they get to the forest,” said Chris Rose, a Tujunga ranger. “That kind of attitude is a problem. If everybody did what they wanted to, it would be destroyed.”

Vandalism has increased as the forest’s popularity has blossomed. Angeles--which extends east across the San Gabriel Valley--attracts more visitors than any other national forest in the United States.

Last year, 27 million people visited Angeles, including 9 million who went to the part of the forest in the Tujunga and Saugus districts.

Gates are erected only when park employees have failed to keep vandals at bay after four or five years of trying, and closing a campground is a last resort, rangers say.

That fate befell the Zuni campground, just a short drive from the northern reaches of the Santa Clarita Valley suburbs. After sunset, the campground became a magnet for teen-agers who took along beer, drugs and radios, rangers say. The teen-agers set bonfires on picnic tables, using wooden roof shingles and window frames from the restrooms for fuel.

They scratched obscenities in the wet concrete when the road through the campsite was paved. Someone chopped down a 30-foot ash. The campground is nestled in a grove of mainly sycamores, oaks and cottonwoods.

The only sign the vandals did not immediately destroy reads, “Zuni campground closed due to vandalism done by youths.”

The staff estimates that it would take $4,000 to make Zuni inhabitable again. There is no money in the U. S. Forest Service budget to replace picnic tables or stoves broken over the past two years. Also left unrepaired are destroyed cisterns that are meant to hold water for firefighting.

Vandals are rarely caught and, when they are, the rangers never hear apologies.

“We can write a ticket, they will pay it without batting an eyelash, or their dad will pay it,” forest ranger Wickman said. “They will be back next weekend.”

On a recent visit, two park officials took their four-wheel-drive vehicle up a remote bumpy road to Artesian Springs. It was the first campground to close, and commands a breathtaking view of the blue waters of the Bouquet Canyon reservoir against the backdrop of dry brown mountains. The campground had been a favorite spot for hikers and hunters, who filled their canteens with water from a spring used long ago by Chumash Indians. Near the spring, a doe grazed, unperturbed by the intruders.

Standing under a canopy of trees, Glenn Johnson, a Saugus recreation and resource officer, looked dejected. “The public loses out when they don’t have spots like this available anymore,” he said.

The campers have noticed the loss.

Mel Wells and his wife, Veronica, from Torrance, were camping in their motor home last week at a site up the road from the closed campground. “I used to like to go to the other place. I caught more trout down there,” Mel Wells grumbled. The forest, he said, has “gone to hell.”

Some of the shooting areas, which rangers say are the forest’s worst eyesores, are also on the endangered list. The Texas Canyon area in the Saugus district closed Friday, and in the Tujunga district, rangers are contemplating shutting one in Pacoima Canyon. It would take tens of thousands of dollars to rejuvenate Texas Canyon, forest officials say. The last time it was cleaned, 65 truckloads of trash were hauled out.

Pacoima Canyon has become a graveyard for stolen cars riddled with bullet holes. At last count, 40 vehicles were dumped there. On a busy weekend day, 500 or more people will travel down a badly rutted road to play war games, practice quick draws or shoot up propane tanks, children’s toys or other items they have brought from home. There is much drug and alcohol use, rangers say.

“It was a pretty canyon. Over the years, it’s just been destroyed,” said Bill Litt, a law enforcement officer in the Tujunga territory.

At Pacoima Canyon, the ground is littered with thousands of shell casings, broken glass and debris. Trash cans are missing because they were removed when they were constantly shot up. Vegetation has disappeared, and trees, pelted with bullets, are dying from lead poisoning.

Shooters touched off a 100-acre fire in Pacoima Canyon this week. Investigators suspect shooters were using exploding ammunition or dumped a barbecue pit to start it.

Meanwhile, the forest has become a laboratory for testing the latest in vandal-proof materials. Chris Rose admits that one of the first things she does when visiting other national parks and forests is to check the restrooms--never passing up an opportunity to see how her colleagues might have improved the durability of the toilets.

There have been some minor successes. Covering the wooden picnic tables with fiberglass increases their lives, although they cost $300 more. Staffs also found a way to keep people from driving over wooden posts at the campgrounds. They paved the dirt roads and put in curbs--which people miraculously obey.

But the money runs out. At Saugus, the forest sustains $100,000 worth of damage a year, but there is only $10,000 to $15,000 available to repair it, Johnson said.

Rangers remain pessimistic that the onslaught on the forest will diminish. Said Wickman: “The most dangerous critters in the national forest aren’t the animals, but the people.”