Jim and Patty
A bearly believable story…
Written by Drew Mashburn | Illustrations by Jules WeissmanMidnight, dang near, and somebody's knocking on the door! That happened on occasion when I lived in the park ranger residence at Matilija Lake Park from August 1974 to February 1978.
So, my feet hit the floor; I pulled on my robe, then answered the door. It was a lady (Patty) who frequently camped with her husband (Jim) at this park. Patty, of course, told me she was sorry to have to disturb me but informed me Jim was in severe pain from "welder's flash." They left their home right after Jim got off work from his welding job to go camping for the weekend. Welder's flash burns the ol' eyeballs due to intense light but often is not felt until hours later.
I proceeded to give Patty directions to the Ojai Valley Community Hospital, but she interrupted me by telling me their vehicle's brakes had pretty much given up the ghost on the trip to the park. Patty asked if I'd be willing to give Jim and her a ride to the hospital's emergency room. I told Patty I'd put on my Park Ranger uniform, then be right with her. We picked up Jim at their campsite, then headed out of Campground No. 2, past Lake Matilija, then out of the mountains to the hospital.
The emergency room doctor and his staff attended to Jim, but it wasn't right away. I felt sorry for him, knowing Welder's Flash feels like you've got sand in your eyes. They put some sorta medicinal goo in Jim's eyes, then placed big ol' gauze patches over them secured by a couple of X's of that white hospital tape they always use.
Patty and I led Jim out to my patrol vehicle, which happened to be a 1966 Ford 3/4-pickup with a high-sided, step-side work bed and a six-cylinder engine with a granny-four-speed tranny. It had a roof-top amber light, a windshield-post mounted spotlight, and a fifty-gallon fire-fighting suppression rig in the bed. You're absolutely correct: it was FAR from being a police cruiser. But, it got the three of us back up to the park with me driving, Patty in the middle avoiding the long gearshift lever, me trying to be a gentleman when shifting, and Jim seated next to the other door.
It was pushing 2:30 AM when we passed the entrance to Campground No. 1 as we headed up Matilija Canyon Road. Not far in front of us, the road slightly rose. The headlights caught something moving rather quickly up the rise, but the lights were barely on it. So, I sped up. That's when I noticed it was a California black bear running up the road. I yelled, "It's a bear!" Patty began beating me on the right shoulder with her fists, yelling, "STOP! Don't run over it!" And Jim started pounding the metal dashboard with both his fists, yelling, "I've been coming to this park since I was a little boy. I've seen lots of bear signs over the years and had always hoped to spot one here. Now, look at me!"
The bear sprinted off the side of the road through the chaparral brush towards Matilija Creek. I safely delivered Patty and Jim back to their campsite. The next morning, I returned to where we (just Patty and I) had seen the bear. Some of the limbs the bear had broken in its frantic escape were as large as my wrist. This was the first and last bear I've ever seen in Matilija Canyon.
Hopefully, Jim's seen one up there by now.
EDITOR'S NOTEA little piece of Ojai history: The Ojai Valley Community Hospital was built in 1960. Prior to 2000, it was for-profit, owned by a succession of companies, the final from Tennessee who planned to close it down. That would mean, in an emergency, Ojaians would have to drive all the way to Ventura for treatment. A bunch of folks including the late Alan Rains, raised funds to buy it and make it a nonprofit. Since then, it's merged with a network of other nonprofit hospitals and is now called Community Memorial Hospital - Ojai. 
