Larry Schick deserves clear skies on the slopes

Straight from the top of the Big Northwest Gore-Tex Mailbag:

Q: Tell us it ain't so. Our one friend who still watches TV news said KING made an announcement the other day that Larry Schick was retiring. How can he retire? And if he does, what will he do? He already makes a living sniffing the wind for snow and waxing his skis!

A: Alas, it is true. Locals old enough to remember the days when Certified Meteorologists were mere weathermen should hoist a cold Rainier in the general direction of retiring Herr Schick, likely the last true character issuing forecasts for a Seattle TV station.

In our mind, Larry, a surfer-turned-meteorologist/ski bum, was the last in a distinguished line of local weather guys honest enough to concede that his craft was as much folly and entertainment as science. (Remember KING weatherman Bob Cram's recurring weather-cartoon characters, most notably "Onshore Flo," the memorable bulbous woman shuffling off to the beach?)

Likewise, Schick's shtick, including the infamous "Larry Schick Dancers," put a bit of levity into a science which, in spite of new technology and millions of dollars worth of electronics, is still a semi-educated guessing game.

In the old days, cornball weather guys goofed off, cavorted, told jokes and got the weather wrong about half the time. These days, a new cadre of clinical, Pinpoint-Forecast-Severe-Weather-Center technicians, all as straight (and about as much fun) as Highway 99, have advanced to the point that they get it right about half the time.

Fortunately, Larry will remain a blip on the local Doppler Radar. He'll be working for the Corps of Engineers in Seattle as a meteorologist for their Hydrology unit, which manages Northwest dams and rivers.

"It was hard to quit," Larry said. He meant literally, in a procedural way: "I had always been fired in broadcasting — I didn't know how to quit," he quipped. "No advice from my broadcasting friends, because they had always been fired, too."

Schick's e-mailed "Powder Alerts," issued through www.skiwashington.com, will continue. (We have to admit, Larry has been right on the money a frightening number of times this season.)

"My real life of playing in the snow and biking around the Northwest will continue, and probably expand, as now I'll have days like Columbus Day off," he says.

And there you have it. Another perfectly good private-sector snow-rider-turned-government-employee hogging your Monday parking spot at Stevens Pass.

But, shoot: He deserves it. Thanks for the memories, Larry. And good luck getting an accurate freezing level from Steve Pool.

Q: We keep seeing signs at Department of Wildlife parking areas insisting we get one of those yellow "Access Stewardship" parking decals. But a guy at our local store said our 2002 one is good until April 2003. What's up with that?

A: He's right. Vehicle Use Permits (the new name for this pass) are good for a year as defined by the hunting/fishing season calendar: April through March. Upshot: Your 2002 yellow sticker, assuming you haven't already round-filed it, like we did, is good through March 2003.

These new passes, incidentally, are supposed to be improved in that they're transferable between two vehicles. But when we replaced our lost 2002 permit (for a mere $7) last week, it was still just that same old, tiny yellow sticker, which, assuming it is not affixed immediately to the rear of a massive earthmoving SUV, is likely to disappear down the dash vent in about 15 seconds.

Not to worry: It's probably all temporary. Lobbyists and legislators in Olympia are considering yet another multi-layered fee system that would create yet another parking pass to get you in to state parks, wildlife areas and DNR lands. If you can guess which pass to use where, and how to install it, you get to be governor.

Q: You're being a little cynical. If we don't pay to park, where do you expect the revenue-starved state to get the money to maintain these areas?

A: In our experience, they don't maintain them now. More often than not, we arrive at wildlife viewing areas to be greeted by the new official state symbol — a padlocked gate.

Last time we checked, parking was not exactly at a premium in Loomis, Concrete and Othello. If we weren't so sympathetic to our state's current, slovenly economic condition, we'd be telling people to save their cash and park outside the gates. You'll find fewer beer cans at your feet there. And we all need the exercise, anyway.

Ron C. Judd's outdoors columns appear in Sunday's sports section and Thursday's Northwest Weekend section. Phone: 206-464-8280; e-mail rjudd@seattletimes.com.