From the Bronx to the Bitterroots - A Week with Catrock Ventures

April Eling

Wilderness Trail Crew Leader

Group photo at the trailhead one day 1

As a crew leader for SBFC, I led a variety of hitches this summer. I led some hitches with just our wilderness ranger fellows, some with volunteers from all over the country, and some with only other crew leads. The diversity of experiences was one of the things that drew me to this job and ended up being my favorite part of the experience. Each type of trip has its own set of challenges, rewards and growth opportunities. When I reflect on my season, however, there is one hitch that stands out as the most fun, inspiring and impactful of the year. That hitch was the One Horse Lake Catrock Youth Trip. 

On July 17-24th, I set off down a burned trail in the Bitterroot with four teenagers, two SBFC fellows, one teacher, and a pack string. When we came out eight days later, I felt transformed as a person and ready to tackle the rest of the season with a renewed sense of purpose.

Group photo at One Horse Lake. Taken when we completed the trail and right before we went for a celebratory swim!

Catrock Ventures is a Bronx, New York City based nonprofit dedicated to empowering low income youth through outdoor experiences. Their mission is fulfilled through a variety of programs, one of which is an annual trail work hitch with SBFC. When I found out I was leading that hitch, I was a mix of excited and nervous. I love working with youth and I am passionate about the mission statement of Catrock. But at the same time, I’m a 25 year old from Eastern Kentucky, now living in Montana- how much am I going to be able to relate to inner city teenagers? To help alleviate some of this anxiety, I requested one of the Fellows that I knew was from New York City to be on the hitch with me. That ended up being a great call- Jack, along with the other fellows, Caroline and Emma, were an invaluable addition to the crew. 

Zamir learning to ride the packer's horse

Zamir and Jazeer crosscutting

What I found from day 1 of hitch, however, was that everyone on that trail had one big thing in common: we were all there because we craved adventure, physical challenge and a desire to work hard in a wild place. While most of these kids had never been backpacking or done trail work before, they learned incredibly quickly and progressed tremendously throughout the week. It was really cool to see the kids go from never using a saw before to reading binds and completing cuts independently. I saw them become empowered by learning that they are capable of cutting trees, setting up camp and carrying heavy packs for long days. When asked at the end what their favorite part of the hitch was, all of them said some version of using tools to clear the trail.

That is the beauty of these youth programs, I think. There are many backpacking and hiking trips across the country for kids to get outside and see wild places. And while those programs are amazing, I think the SBFC trail work trips offer something more: a sense of pride, empowerment and giving back. They also show that you can make a career out of being outside and using your hands. One of the participants, Richie, who started out as a teenager in the Catrock program and now is a leader while in college, had this to say about his experience: “My journey in the Selway Bitterroot Wilderness deepened my appreciation for nature and was one of the reasons why I decided to major in Environmental Studies.” 

Group photo on the last day of hitch

These SBFC youth hitches are incredibly impactful for everyone who participates. For the participants, they are getting out of their community and learning things about themselves and the world for the first time. For the SBFC Wilderness Ranger Fellows, they are solidifying the knowledge they’ve gained throughout the season by teaching others, all while proving to themselves their capacity to progress into a leader in this field. And for the crew leaders like me, we become reinspired after years of grinding, and remember why we chose this path in the first place.

Jack Boyle, one of the SBFC Fellows, summed it up well with this reflection: “Wilderness has often been referred to as our nation’s most valuable resource. I believe that to an extent. It is only when wilderness is accessed and explored by our nation’s youth that it is our greatest resource, because it must be when the hands of our future hold its treasures in their palms that wilderness truly becomes valuable.” 

Thank you to SBFC, Catrock Ventures, Peter Healy, Richie Lara-Rodriguez and everyone who donated to make this incredible experience come to life.

Snowman built on the last day near Carlton Lake

Emma (SBFC) and Jazeer (Catrock) arm wrestling as a part of our SBFC vs Catrock "hitch olympics"

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April Eling

Wilderness Trail Crew Leader: Bitterroot National Forest

April grew up in Eastern Kentucky. After graduating high school, she moved to Utah and spent a year with a conservation corps doing trail work, invasive species removal, and more. She then spent four years as a wildland firefighter with the Forest Service in Arizona, California, and Montana. Now, she's wrapping up her college degree in Kentucky, where she also worked as a backcountry ranger. She loves Wilderness because it represents nature in its truest form and provides mental and physical well-being to all who access it. She is passionate about maintaining these places for ecological health as well as optimal access for all people.

A Decade of Working in Wilderness: Ten Lessons for Ten Years

Josh Page

SBFC Wilderness Program Director

Josh back in the day!

When I first wrapped my fingers around a crosscut handle in 2015 along a trail in the Trinity Alps Wilderness of Northern California, it wasn’t as dramatic as awakening some long-dormant sense of purpose and belonging, but after that first long day of many miles hiked and many trees bucked, I did know that the exhaustion blended with pride and satisfaction was a natural high that I wanted to keep chasing. Now in my tenth season of Wilderness work, I can proudly say that what I thought was many trees that first day would be woefully short of what I can buck in a day now, and I can also say with humility that the miles are not so easily earned as they were at age 23. 

Thousands of trees and thousands of miles in, there are still many lessons to be learned, and I sincerely hope this is only the first of several decades spent working in the Wilderness. Here are ten broad lessons that Wilderness has taught me thus far.

1. Plan Ahead and Prepare

There is a reason this is the first Leave No Trace principle. 

In our highly connected world, the consequences of simple oversights are easily negated. Forgot to bring your lunch to the office? That’s an easy fix by walking to a nearby restaurant, and if you’re too busy with emails, they can just bring the food to you! Change that scenario to the Wilderness so that day 7 arrives with you being a dinner short, and your hike out the next day just got a heckuva lot more difficult. Did you only look at the forecast for the first four days of the hitch and day 6 arrives with a significant temperature drop that you didn’t plan for? Sleep isn’t going to come easily in that 40 degree sleeping bag that night! A little bit of preparation goes a long way when you can only rely on what you’ve brought with you.

2. Then Adapt on the Fly

Wildfires, wind storms, summer snow storms, impassable creek crossings, dried up water sources, unanticipated volume of work, pack animal mishaps, car troubles, crew member injury or illness…Plan 1A is an incredibly fragile thing. Unnecessary rigidity is needlessly frustrating at best, and highly hazardous at worst. Preparing with tools, gear and a plan that help you stay flexible when the inevitable changes happen can keep a crew moving down the new trail, and acceptance of those changes is the only way to keep yourself and those around you sane. 

3. Be Curious

Borrowing from Ted Lasso, don’t let your mind get too assumptive. Aim to constantly stay present and keep your curiosity. Earlier on in my time working in Wilderness, I cut through hundreds of trees learning very little because I stopped being curious. It’s not easy to stay present and engaged all the time when you’re in the middle of 10+ hour days hiking and working, but we only learn from experiences if we reflect on them. The laws of nature don’t change, but the endless variables and our personal understanding of it all would take much more than my lifetime to fully master. Be curious and you’ll get a lot further in the short window we all have.

4. Learn How to be Ambidextrous

This one is a little less philosophical, but an ambidextrous life has many benefits both on and off the trail. Some tasks in Wilderness work teeter between frustratingly difficult and borderline impossible if you are not ambidextrous. Even walking can be negatively affected in the long run if you overcompensate with one side of your body. If getting skilled at swinging an ax with your opposite hand feels too lofty, start by brushing your teeth or washing dishes with your non-dominant side. I for one am grateful that there isn’t a shortcut to everything in life. Some skills only get better with practice.

5. You’re Closer Than You’ve Ever Been

If anyone that has been on a trail with me reads this, I am sure my inclusion of this statement as a lesson will be to their incense, since this is always my answer to the question, “How much further is it?”. Being sometimes infuriating doesn’t make it any less true though. “The only way out is through” or “An object in motion stays in motion” are other ways of saying the same thing- wherever you are at the moment of the trek to your destination, try to keep going, because you are closer than you’ve ever been. 

6. Try to Stay Present, Fail, and then keep Trying and Failing

Josh hiking in the Frank this summer.

When I say that I have spent ten years in the Wilderness, the numbers quickly show how much I am embellishing. Of the 3,650 days that have happened in the last decade, it’s roughly around 700 where I was actually in Wilderness. Even whittled down to 700, I could clearly describe perhaps 50 days and what occurred. We learn only from what we are willing to reflect on, and we can only reflect if we were present to begin with. There are so many difficult and mundane moments in Wilderness that it is all too easy to detach from the moment, and tune in later when something is happening. The problem is that those difficult and mundane moments are lessons and they are also the bulk of life. Whatever is presently happening, try to feel it entirely, and when you disassociate (and you will), give yourself some grace before diving back in. Don’t let 700 days go by remembering only a handful.

7. Bring some extra snacks

It’s easy to be philosophical about working in Wilderness as I type this on my computer, but at the end of the day, we’re all just animals with some biological needs. If you find yourself or someone around you getting cranky or down, before you go to the mind go to the stomach. I have ended many tense moments with a well-timed snack or electrolyte offering. Dried mango, chocolate-covered espresso beans, jerky and pistachios are a few of my favorite crowd pleasers. Some quality chocolate of your choosing paired with a mint tea after dinner can make a lot of problems feel a little smaller as well.

8. Pick a Wilderness, Discover it, Fall in Love with it, Protect it, Share it

Josh, Krissy, and Nate in the Selway-Bitterroot WIlderness this summer

There are over 800 Wilderness Areas in the United States. Some of them like the Selway-Bitterroot and Frank Church-RONR are over 1 million acres in size. Not that I don’t love to visit other Wilderness Areas, because I absolutely do, but I truly hope that I get to spend the majority of my Wilderness time discovering, loving, protecting and sharing the Selway and Frank. These are remote, vast, diverse, and often harsh places, and with every visit I feel like I am uncovering a new facet among millions. Definitely explore as many Wilderness Areas as you can, but I also suggest finding your Home Wilderness, the one that begins to feel like visiting a long time friend. It’s an unmistakable feeling.

Josh leading an SBFC volunteer project on Marble Creek in 2019.

9. Wilderness & Humans are Deeply Connected, Not Separate

I signed up for my first season of Wilderness work with a self-centric focus. I wanted to see what I was capable of, how much I could rely on myself, and above all, I wanted to escape from the modern world. I ended up finding many of my best friends, my spouse, and my community of people on this journey for solitude and self-reliance. Working in Wilderness is hard to explain to those who aren’t indoctrinated, but the bond shared by those who have done this work and been to these places is strong. Humans are meant only to be visitors to Wilderness, but that does imply that we are also meant to visit. I know my life is infinitely better for those visits and the people those visits have connected me to.

10. We need Wilderness, and that need is only rising

One can make a pretty strong argument that Wilderness doesn’t need us, but I know for a certainty that the opposite is true and only becoming truer. With internet and cell service becoming more and more available, I can’t help but be concerned about what that means for the human experience in Wilderness. I am always so thankful for the opportunity to wash my brain clean of social media, videos and the endless content of our modern existence when I visit Wilderness. Wilderness is one of the last havens we have away from the algorithms designed to keep us glued to our phones. I doubt the founding mothers and fathers of the Wilderness Act could ever fully understand how invaluable these protected places would become in this specific sense. If entering Wilderness ever entirely loses that sense of entering a natural, untrammeled, more primeval world, a key aspect of what Wilderness means will be lost.

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There are likely easier ways to learn some of these lessons besides working in Wilderness for 10 years, but I doubt they would stick with me as well if I had learned them any other way. For 60 years Wilderness has been a federal designation, but for thousands of years humans have helped steward these places now called Wilderness. The tread dug, the vegetation brushed, the trees bucked and the retaining walls built are all impermanent, but the connections I have to these places and their stewards will last a lifetime. Keeping these places simultaneously protected and accessible to people is a tightrope hike that requires seemingly endless human power and passion. We are each just one piece of that massive puzzle, and it takes all of us giving everything we can towards that mission. I hope this inspires folks to safely and respectfully discover their own lessons in Wilderness, and perhaps avoid a couple of the mistakes I’ve made. I aim to continue to give to the human experience of Wilderness for many years to come, and with a little bit of luck, in 2034 I’ll have another 10 lessons worth sharing. 

Thanks For Reading & Stay Wild!

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Josh Page, Program Director

Josh grew up in a 100+ year old family farmhouse in central Michigan. In 2015, Josh headed west and spent an uninterrupted 6 months in Wilderness with the California Conservation Corps. Since that first formative season working in Wilderness, Josh has spent the last nine years leading and teaching crews in the Selway and Frank. He spent 2018-2020 as an SBFC Crew Leader, and is thrilled his winding trail brought him back to SBFC as Program Director in 2022. In his free time, Josh can often be found playing with his two cats and beagle. When the pets aren’t demanding his attention, getting overly competitive in board games with his wife Erika is a favorite pastime.

Bonus Josh’isms":

 10 of my favorite sayings to utilize as I make decisions working in Wilderness (Fittingly, I’ve already mentioned a couple):

1. You’re closer than you’ve ever been

2. Before going to the mind, go to the stomach

3. Be comfortable being uncomfortable

4. An object in motion stays in motion

5. Whatever the forecast, prepare for 10 degrees colder

6. Be bold, start cold

7. You are capable of far more than you think

8. Wedge early, wedge often-eat early, eat often

9. Am I choosing the right path, or the easy path? 

10. Wilderness is too damn hard to get to, to have a bad time; and it takes too much effort to get to, to not do a job right

Wilderness Journals- Youth Wilderness Expedition

Eleana - Youth Wilderness Program Participant

Day 1:

Eleana with a loaded pack in the rain

The day that I had been waiting for was finally here. A backpacking trip! I left my house around 6:30 AM to go to my friend Isa's house since they had offered me a ride. The ride to Kamiah felt long and the weather was a bit foggy and cold, but I knew that it was going to turn out okay. We were greeted at the park in Kamiah by Ian and Clarinne, the leaders of this trip, who welcomed us to the team. As we get to know the leaders and who is on this trip, we began to pack up the backpacks with the team supplies. We then left the park and began our 2-hour drive. The car ride there started quiet but then we began talking which allowed us to get to know everyone. We stopped at a ranger station for our lunch break which was fun since they had a variety of games that we played. We left the ranger station to continue our drive and that's when we arrived at the entrance of a dirt road. When we arrived at the trailhead, it was still raining a bit so we waited it out until it was clear enough. We then hopped out and began to unload the equipment and packs from the car. Once we were all set and ready, we got into a circle and began to stretch and to brainstorm safety rules. An example of this would be, water: making sure that we stayed hydrated since we were hiking long distances. After that, we began our 3-mile trek and it felt easy at first. It was mainly downhill so it wasn't too hard, you just had to watch your step. There were times where we had to cross creeks and I didn’t bother changing my shoes which I later regretted. Soon enough, after some breaks and conversation, we found a place to camp. I was quite relieved since I hadn't backpacked before and I was getting a bit tired. We unpacked all of the group gear before we went to go look for our kitchen/ dining area where we would eat tonight. Everyone had a task for each day and I was assigned to wash the dishes after dinner. We set up our tents and soon dinner was finished. We had a taco bowl and it was really good– It tasted like spaghetti! After dinner I washed dishes and got ready for bed before I played card games with Clarinne. Once we had finished a few rounds, I decided that it was time for me to head to bed since I had another long day ahead of me. 

Day 2:

I woke up around 6:30 AM to the sound of Clarinne saying, “Breakfast time!” I didn't sleep very well since I woke up every other hour because I felt cold. I walked up to the dining spot and was met by everyone else. For breakfast, I had a bagel with cream cheese and a nice hot cup of tea. After breakfast, we hiked to a lake. The hike there felt much easier since we only had to carry daypacks with lunch and tools. It was relaxing to hear the birds chirping cheerfully to one another and the insects crawl and buzz about as they continued to do their daily tasks. The shrubs were damp and small droplets of dew lay on scattered leaves. I could hear the creek babbling from a distance as it fell among the hard rocks and pebbles beneath. When we finally made it there, it had only taken us 2 ½ hours to get there and the campsite was really large and beautiful. There was a small path that led to a beautiful lake. We ate lunch at this spot and I loved how the water glistened as it moved towards the shore. Every now and then a fish would jump out of the water and then back down where it came from. Many bees buzzed as they went from flower to flower rubbing their small hands and legs to collect pollen. Once some time had passed, we left the spot and began to hike uphill to overlook a trail. It was hard, but stopping for a break and overlooking all of the lakes and views seemed worth it. Once I had made it to the top, I was in awe. We could see some of the mountains that were in Montana and many lakes below. We stayed here for some time as well before we stashed our tools and helmets into a spot where a group of large boulders stood. We then made our way back while trimming some of the branches along the trail. It felt so nice going downhill and I was excited to go back to our camp and get some rest. When I saw the bear hang, I realized that I was back! It was a relief to change my shoes. I decided to take a short nap before dinner and soon enough dinner was made and it was time to eat. For dinner, we had a pizza in a pot. After that, I got ready for bed and played some card games before I called it a night.

Day 3: 

Today I woke up feeling more refreshed and well-rested since I had gotten a decent amount of sleep. Today it's bagels and sausages for breakfast. This time I put honey in the hot water and it tastes amazing. Today, the goal was to get to the second campsite which would mean that we would pack up our things and leave. After breakfast, we began to do that very thing: pack. Once that was finished, we began to stretch, name rules, pick up trash, and begin our hike. This time it was a bit more difficult mainly because we had more weight in our packs this time and it was decently sloped. But after pushing through for 2 hrs and 30 min we had finally made it. I set my pack down before stretching once more. We started to unpack the group gear before we were told that we were going to look for a place for our latrine. A latrine in simple words is a rectangle-like hole where you go to the bathroom and is used for a longer period of time. We each had to help dig the hole and go over how to use it. After all that we began to set up our own tents and after everyone was done we gathered around some logs and began to learn more about wilderness and what it means. We also learned some history, how to read maps, and how to tie knots. Once we got the hang of tying knots, we helped with the bear hang. Finally, after everything was finished we had the rest of the day to ourselves. Honestly I was exhausted and wanted to rest once more but my friend Isa asked if I wanted to go swim. I made my way to the lake and once I was on the rocks, where you could sit and relax, I took off my shoes and put my legs in the water. It was a bit cold at first but it felt cool against my skin. I watched dragonflies zoom by and fluffy bumblebees fly to different flowers. For dinner, we had green pasta with bacon bits. It was one of my favorite meals that we had! After dinner, I got ready for bed and was told that tomorrow I would be on breakfast duty. So with that, I decided to call it a night just to get more sleep.

Eleana on Friday Pass

Day 4: 

Eleana and Clarinne on the crosscut

Brayden at Wind Lakes

Today I woke up earlier to help make breakfast, which was oatmeal and bacon. I also helped set up the lunch so everyone could pack their own burrito. After everyone was awake and had breakfast, we all got ready since today was our work trail day. It only took us 30 minutes to get to the section of trail we were working. We rested there before we grabbed the tools from where we had stashed them 2 days prior. After that we began our hike down to the trail that we would be clearing. The way there was very hard. Today was also the hottest day, so not much wind came through. Eventually, we had made it to a lookout tower which was really high up. I ate my lunch here and after 30 minutes or so, we decided that we should head back and begin to work on the trail. We had to clear the trees that were on the path and these trees were decently big and did take some time to cut down. But once we got the hang of it, it went by pretty fast. After we had eaten lunch and then finished up the rest of the trees, we began to make our way back. We spotted our last tree before we were able to go back. Once we were back, we took a photo of ourselves when we were all dirty and it was funny. We then had the afternoon free and I took a nap. For dinner this night we had “Thanksgiving in a pot” which was super good since we had mashed potatoes. After dinner, I played gin-rummy with Clarinne before I decided that I would stay up with Isa and Braydon to watch the stars. As we were talking, Braydon spotted a bee in the water. At first we thought it was doing a weird trick, but it was actually stuck. So we got it out and I basically took care of the small bee for the rest of the night. I headed to bed since it was getting late and I put Wes, the bee, on one of my shirts before I fell asleep. 

Blog Post Day 5:

Wes the bee

Today I woke up earlier to get ready and I saw Clarinne and Ian making breakfast. I was excited since they said that it was a surprise and so I walked past but I wasn't able to make out what they were making. When everyone was awake we went to have breakfast and it was hashbrowns and sausage to make a breakfast burrito. Once everyone was finished, we were told that we were, individually, going to go out in the wilderness and just spend 30 minutes enjoying it. As I went to look for a spot, I realized that Wes the bee was strong enough to fly. It was sad since I had become really fond of this bee but knew that I had to let him go. So, as I walked down to the lake I released him and saw him fly away and off into the distance. It was heartwarming to see that he was able to be on his own again. I continued on my way down and walked a bit further into the distance until I found a more secret and reserved area. I took off my Chacos and dipped my feet into the cool water. I saw many animals, birds, bugs, fish and frogs. I liked the feeling of the warm wind that brushed up against my cheek and the cool water that relieved the itching from my mosquito bites. Ian then said that our time was over and I walked back. We had freetime this day, and I decided to go swimming. I went down to the lake and slowly (and I mean very slowly) got used to the water since it was so cold. Eventually, I swam for a bit before I ate some snacks. Everyone at some point went swimming and it was fun to watch and be a part of. Since we had spent a majority of the day out on the lake we decided that we should head back. It was around dinner time and it was ramen which everyone ate happily. I couldn't believe that today was our last full day so I wanted to enjoy it as much as possible. We played a lot of games before I wanted to go journaling by the lake and get ready for bed. I wanted to stay up again to watch the stars with Isa and Braydon again since I had a fun time from the night before. This time I dressed warm, had a bag of snacks, flashlights, water, and my journal and pen. I was met by Clarinne who was reading her book on the rocks. We all stayed up for some time before it was time for bed.

Blog Post Day 6:

Eleana on the trail!

Today was the last day. It was sad, but it was time for us to go back home. We hiked back to the car and drove back to the park in Kamiah. I slept for some of the ride there before I sat in the car thinking of what would happen next. We arrived at the park and we were there a bit early so we had time to just chill and hang out more which I think everyone was excited about. We did handstands, went down to the river and found a crawdad before we walked back and Braydon’s parents were there to take him home. A family at the park invited us to join them for Indian tacos, which were really tasty. Once we had finished, Braydon said goodbye and he was gone. It was just Isa and I now, and a little while later her parents showed up and we too made our way home. I will say this was one of the most amazing experiences I have had, and I would for sure do it again!

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Eleana (age 16) is from Viola, Idaho. She participated in SBFC’s 2024 Youth Wilderness Expedition to Wind Lakes.

Overcoming Myself- Youth Wilderness Expedition

Macy | Youth Wilderness Expedition- Program Participant

You had to be there to experience it. That is what I keep telling people about my time with the Selway Bitterroot Frank Church Foundation and their Youth Wilderness Expedition. This expedition taught me a lot more than just the Wilderness. Being a typical teenager I would stay on my phone for hours and try to get out of chores so when I got back to school my summer felt boring and unfulfilled 

 In December of 2023, I decided I was going to go to a summer camp. At first, I was going to go to a different summer camp until my mother, who is a teacher, told me about a Foundation that was taking teenagers out into the backcountry and teaching them about the Wilderness for free! I was hooked. That was what I was going to do this summer. I applied, anxiously waited, and got accepted!

In the car!

For months I prepared. I bought a pack, scavenged family gear, looked at maps, did trial hikes, literally everything physical I did was in preparation for this trip. I was going to do this trek and it was going to be easy. Even though I did all that training and all that preparation, I forgot to prepare myself mentally, so when the day came to meet the rest of my crew I felt wildly unprepared even though I had spent months thinking about this trip. Before I even knew what was happening my pack and I were loaded into a van (author’s note: yes, Ian, I know it's not a van) with 5 other teens and on a windy road to our home for the next 4 days.

Every time I've been asked what my favorite part of the trip was or what my highlight of the expedition was, I say the van ride up. It was my first sense of being alone even though I really wasn't. I had no contact with people I knew well, instead I had contact with 7 strangers who quickly became my friends. This sense of loneliness was just a taste test of the challenges I’d have to overcome.

The hike down to the lake was rather easy for me at least. Don't get me wrong, it took some time but the effects weren't so bad. Before my mom dropped me off she told me “you can do anything for an hour.” The entire hike down, I didn't say that once. The way up I said it every 2 seconds. The hike up kicked my butt. Whatever training I did could not compare to that. However, we had the best cheerleader known to man: Ian Harris the Youth Program Director, cheering us on the entire 1.6 miles up. 

After one day I got sick of myself. Being a teen girl and being alone with your thoughts is a really hard thing to manage. I have always been really confident, but after being humbled by the trail and the idea of work the next day, I really had to fight to keep my confidence and motivation up. I also had to fight with the bugs that were eating us alive.

 After two days in the Wilderness, I struggled with homesickness. I couldn't go a second without thinking of my family and my house. Every time I chopped back a bush, I dreamed of my air conditioner. Every time I pulled a saw, I thought of how much I missed my parents. Everytime I hit a wedge, I thought of how good my bed would feel. 

Drawing of Macy by Hickory Glass, age 14.

After three days, I started to pay more attention to not only my surroundings, but also myself. I came to realize my body's needs. I learned when I was dehydrated, when I was overworking myself, and when I needed food. Ian Harris and our other trail leader Emma Sattleman, or better known to the crew as “Batman”, were always letting us take breaks to regulate ourselves and actually encouraging us to not work too hard. I noticed the quietness of the woods, the howl of the wind, the sound of the creek flowing. I even began to notice the bugs less. I realized I was actually looking for wildlife. I actively looked for snakes, frogs, and fish. 

By day four, I didn't want to leave the quiet woods. I didn't want to leave the trails we worked so hard on. I didn't want to leave the campsite where I bonded with my crew. I didn't want to leave the lake we swam in until we shivered uncontrollably. I didn't want to leave the deer that invaded our campsite at night. I did not want to leave Walton Lake and the memories we made.

Overall the SBFC Youth Wilderness Expedition taught me how to act and care for the wilderness, how to use hand held tools, and how to accept troubles and let them pass through me. This trip was so much fun and I will miss it for eternity and will definitely be doing it next year!

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Macy (age 13) is from Lewiston, Idaho. She participated in SBFC’s 2024 Youth Wilderness Expedition to Walton Lakes.

Journal Entries from A Wilderness Ranger Fellow

Jack Boyle

Wilderness Ranger Fellow

Selway-Bitterroot Wilderness

July 31-August 7, 2024

Day 1:

The plan changed. Not that it affects me much, I still have to show up to the tool cache with food enough for 8 days, and legs fresh enough for whatever comes. But the plan changed, the crazy, historic 110-mile-per-hour wind storm that hit Missoula and the Bitterroots brought trees down all over the Selway-Bitterroot Wilderness. Dozens, if not hundreds of trails have been closed to hikers and stock because of it. Also, my tent was absolutely destroyed by the storm, but Suffer-Syndrome has fully kicked in, so I don’t quite care. Because of this storm, the Forest Service has tasked us with clearing “critical” trails near the northern borders of the wilderness.

The Crew, from left to right: Colby, Robbie, Jack (myself), Sean, Nathan, Sammy, Rowan.

So there we were, ten of us: Myself, Sammy, Nathan, Rowan, Nate, Joe, Robbie, Colby, Tom & Sean. We, for lack of a better word, prepared for whatever came before us. The first of our many objectives was to clear a critical stock trail from Jerry Johnson Warm Springs to the Bear Mountain Fire Lookout Tower. We were told the lookout, a man named Steve, could not resupply unless that trail was quickly cleared for stock travel. As the cutting began, two scouts were sent to the Tower to get an idea of the work that laid before us. Myself and others wondered what Steve looked like, what he sounded like, what his hobbies were. The image of Steve in my head was of a former professional baseball player, who sounded like Johnny Cash, and enjoyed throwing rocks like baseballs off the tower. Of course, others had different opinions.

After a great 12-hour day, we settled in at camp and finally began wondering about what had happened to our two scouts. The sun was setting and people were thinking the worst, some people began splitting the remaining part of the team into factions, then taking sides. But before the rebellion could occur the two of them arrived from the mountain-top, and their report was dramatic. Apparently, there were many more trees down on the trail than we expected there to be, in addition to an intense 3000 ft climb with steep tread. Regardless, we were back in the wild, and didn’t back down from the challenge of tomorrow. 

Day 2:

Somebody had brought-up the fact that anything can happen in the front-country, and that in the back-country we are oblivious to any and all world news. For example, when Joe Biden dropped out of the Presidential race ,we were all in the wilderness and had no idea about this historic event until we exited the mountains. Personally, I spent the day wondering what could be happening in the world presently. But mostly I spent the day struggling and suffering (my two favorite feelings). 

After a non-democratic vote, our leaders decided it would be best to bump camp further up the mountain.  Trust me, there’s nothing worse than carrying 50 lbs of gear on your back, a cross-cut over your shoulder, and sunburns on your neck as you pass Warm Springs. Every part of my being wanted to be lounging in that Warm Spring, and nurturing my many blisters in the naturally warm waters of Jerry Johnson. But Steve needed us, so I did what I’ve been doing for this entire season; I put my luxuries and pleasures to the side.

Two anonymous crew members pose for a photo with their Cross-Cut Saw.

Further up the stock trail there’s a bridge that crosses the Warm Springs Creek, on the other side of the creek is a brutal switch-back trail that leads up the mountain. At that moment the Warm Springs Creek felt much like the Rubicon River, we had passed a point of no return. After a couple hours of climbing we had reached a ridge-line when my Leader, Joe, had asked if we wanted to see something cool but demoralizing. He pointed to the western horizon, and in the vast distance you could make out our objective. The sheer distance that separated us from the Tower made us all shout expletives simultaneously over the valleys that separated us from it.

Camp was set-up on the side of the trail, somewhere on the mountain. I began eating my dehydrated meal when I continued to think about the world events that we were currently missing.  To entertain the idea, I gave my team a hypothetical: “I have no way of knowing this,” I said to my team “but I’m pretty sure Florida’s gone.” Everyone interpreted that hypothetical differently, however I think most people were in agreement that when we retired to the front-country, we’d be informed that the state had vanished.

Day 3:

On rainy days I want the sun, on sunny days I want the rain. Something the wilderness is great for is making you incredibly uncomfortable, then making you endure. Today was a prime example of the endurance required in the Selway-Bitterroot: the temperatures today have mimicked the surface of the sun, and for the remaining couple of miles and thousands of feet until we reached the tower, there would be no shade.

The Bear Mountain Fire Lookout Tower.

Wilderness Ranger Fellows, Sean and Sammy looking from the top of the Lookout Tower over the Selway-Bitterroot Wilderness.

Half-way up the mountain there was a single snag which casted a 10 foot long shadow. The whole crew stood behind it as if we were in a line waiting for ice cream. After that short break we pushed on to the Tower. Then we behold it, a beautiful 50-foot wooden tower. It looked like the last stop before the gates of St. Peter. Blocking the sun with my hand I looked at the top of the tower and saw a silhouette of a figure on the balcony of the tower. Someone yelled out “Rapunzel,” but it was just Steve.

Yeah, and I was wrong. He wasn’t a professional baseball player, he was an adjunct professor of English. And his hobby took up ⅛ of his limited living quarters; a beautiful electric cello was the centerpiece of the tower. From up above the mountains he broadcasted his music to the solitude of the wilderness. Steve was kind enough to give us a great tour of the tower, and gave us a history and description of his very idyllic job. Thirty years ago, Steve showed-up to the Clearwater National Forest trying to get a spot on a Fire Engine Crew; he was told that the Engine Crews were full but the Lookout on Bear Mountain had quit that morning. Since that day Steve had been the proud residence of the lookout, guarding the forest, protecting the idea and image of an honorable sentinel for generations to come.

After that wonderful visit we had to stumble back down the mountain to clear the remainder of the trail. At the end of the day we had cleared it up-to-spec for stock resupply. Steve was saved; Objective #1 was accomplished.

Day 4:

Because we are stewards of the wilderness, earnest contributes to the Forest Service’s mission, and because our boss won’t let us leave until we’ve done at least 80 hours of work in the backcountry, we decided to move on to Objective #2. The next plan was to get to the car, go to Elk Summit, then clear to the Diablo Mountain Fire Lookout Tower for someone named Marty.

An afternoon chit-chat with “Phil” (left) at the Elk Summit Guard Station.

The hike down from the mountain was easier than the one up, what a surprise! We were all gleeful while we waved to the hikers on their way to the Warm Springs. But when we got back to our truck we learned something both disturbing and funny; do you know what’s worse than a truck with a back door that doesn’t lock… a truck that doesn’t need a key to turn on. Lucky enough for us, we had both conditions in-one. Someone was fiddling around with the ignition while we waited for the guy with the keys to hike down, when they surprisingly turned the engine over.  So while we drove-up to Elk Summit, someone in the back seat was spinning the keys on his finger.

Up at Elk Summit we went to a Historic Guard Station where we met Phil, a volunteer housekeeper for the Station. A wonderful host and storyteller who gave us a history of Guard Station, and an insight into the years that local writer Norman Maclean spent at Elk Summit.

Day 5: 

Joe posted a list of all 77 Roman Emperors at basecamp.

Team Leader Emeritus, Joe Ferris, addressed the crew this morning. His tone was of disappointment, and his information, he ensured, was of dire importance. In his hand was a piece of paper, he kept it in a folder, as he walked through us to get to the tree at the center of camp. The sound of tearing duct tape rang across Elk Summit like a gunshot. Joe duct-taped the sides of the paper to the tree, turned around, and ordered “Memorize them by the end of the day.” It was a list of all 77  Roman Emperors, starting with Augustus and ending with Romulus Augustulus. Obviously we thought Joe was joking, but his stone face suggested otherwise. So we all got started with memorization.

“Operation Save Marty” was a go. I joined up with two Forest Service trail workers to start clearing up to Diablo tower, the rest of the crew cleared towards Objective #3: Big Sand Lake. The conditions of our day were the only restraint, a cold front moved into the mountains, and so it was wet and cold for the entire day. 

The Diablo Mountain Fire Lookout.

The work was full as we started to climb the mountain. This hike promised to be much easier than whatever-the-hell happened on Bear mountain, but the clouds were coming through the mountains so that you really couldn’t make out the distance to the summit. In fact, the fog was so thick that you couldn't make out anything; you could’ve been on the very edge of a cliff and have no idea that it was even there.  We thought we were still a ways from the top until a figure emerged from the fog. The shadowy figure was holding something that started yapping at us. The figure became a man by the name of Micheal, and he was holding his dog out to us, it was a small shepherd-like dog. Michael handed out dog-biscuits and said “Here, feed him the biscuits and he’ll stop barking.” I fed him then gave him a pet and asked “What’s his name?”  Michael replied “Marty.”

Michael and Marty were kind enough to let us into the tower, where they served hot chocolate and hot coffee to us. We talk for an hour about the workings of the forest and the fires this season. At the end of the conversation I was able to help everyone memorize the first three Roman Emperors. I spent the walk on the trail thinking about how the hell I was going to mesmerize the other 74.

Day 6:

After Objective #2 was complete I joined the rest of the team on Objective #3: clearing the 8-mile trail to Big Sand Lake. We started early and began the hike-out; the team separated into two. The first team (nicked-named: Team Marcus Aurelius) went only half-way to clear the middle section, my team (nicked-name: Team Antoninus Pius) hiked all the way out the Big Sand Lake.

Big Sand Lake

When Team Antoninus Pius arrived at Big Sand Lake the views were stunning: the smooth waters over this massive mountain lake helped to set the backdrop for Blodgett Pass (one of the most beautiful areas of the Selway-Bitterroot). The team and I were famished so we took lunch at the lake and were met by a strange and cynical creature. A ground squirrel was getting a little too comfortable and confident with our presence. It came-up close to our food and at one point tried grabbing one of our socks that was drying on a log. When the team wanted to go for a quick swim in the Lake, I volunteered to stay back and protect our food from the menace. And my guard was admirable as I sat on a rock and kicked-up dirt whenever it got close, but then a bee got up my shirt and it stung me on my chest. I jumped-up and let out an expletive (or two), and just when I left my post I heard something crunching behind me.  That damn squirrel was eating its way through my bag. I immediately ran towards it and, just as quickly, it escaped through my legs. The squirrel and I ran around our lunch camp five times before it finally gave up and climbed up a tree. When the team came back from the lake they chastised me for losing the battle to the squirrel.

Work was electric on the way back, passion to get the job done had us making the best, and most efficient, cuts we’ve ever made. But as the work felt electric, so did the air. Miles away we could see a big storm cell blowing towards us. It hit before we knew it; the rain quickly turned from drizzling to downfall, and the lightning from 10 miles away to 1. At a point we just needed to put our heads down and fight our way back up the mountain, and that’s what we did until we discovered team Marcus Aurelius. The other team was huddled under a tree on the side of the trail. Discerning that the best course of action was probably to wait out the storm, we rejoined with the other team. And after an hour underneath the tree the sun began to set, so we waited for the perfect moment and ran back to camp.

Wet, cold, and terrified, we arrived back at camp and were given the best news we could’ve received. Phil (remember Phil?) invited us over to warm-up and dry-out in his cabin, additionally, he made us pancakes! We spent the night eating warm food and laughing as we did. Truly, a wonderful conclusion to a perfect day. 

Day 7:

Following Objective #3 came Objective #4, which was renamed to Objective: When Will This Hitch End? After clearing three distinct trails, and working overtime every day we became exhausted, but refused to relinquish our spirits. Bridge Creek Trail was the next mission, and we accomplished it with vigor. 

We packed-up camp today, said goodbye to our Guardian Angel, Phil, and took the long dirt road back to Missoula. On the way back I reflected on this season, and what it means to be a Wilderness Ranger. As you could probably tell, if you’ve read this far, a lot of unexpected events occur in the backcountry, things that you can’t change (as much as you wish you could). You have to take the heat, take the long days and the rain storms, take scrapes on your arm, the emptiness in your stomach, the crazy thoughts in your head. This job will break you down. But I‘ve realized that the more we suffer during the day, the more we laugh during the night. It’s a great contradiction.

 I gave a toast one night during dinner, trying to revitalize peoples’ spirits, I talked about our collective bravery.  I said “Courage is the willingness to live, taking the form of a readiness to die.” And that quote describes well what I’m trying to convey about wilderness life: To get, you must give. The suffering has shown me the beauty of simplicity, and the necessity for gratitude. When you cowboy-camp on wet pine needles, eat the same stupid energy bar for breakfast, then go destroy your body on the saw for the entire day, you will usually be bitter and grouchy, unless you show gratitude. Gratitude is the great justifier of life, and it is the value that helps us derive meaning and passion from all things. 

I am truly lucky to have spent this summer in this “Merciless Eden,” this place of wild beauties and unexpected adventures. Wilderness, as I’ve been well convinced, is the most valuable resource we have in this country. Exploring it is a treasure beyond anything gift you could ever receive. And we need it, as my friend Wallace Stenger said, even if the only thing we ever do with it is drive to its edges and look in.

The Crew after a long week of good work (pictured at Elk Summit).

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Jack Boyle

Manhasset, NY

University of Notre Dame- Environmental Science & American Studies

Jack grew up on Long Island, NY, but spent ample time in Utah, traversing the Wasatch mountains with his family. He attended the University of Notre Dame and majored in Environmental Science. There he conducted limnology research and spent his summers collecting data in the North Woods of Wisconsin. Jack also became passionate about Environmental Literature, studying authors like Wallace Steiger, Barry Lopez, and Henry David Thoreau. Because of his interests in environmental art and science, Jack decided to participate in a year-of-service with an Americorps Conservation Corps. There he fought wildfires and did conservation work in Missouri and Montana. Jack credits this experience as the catalyst for his enjoyment of trail work and wilderness living. In the fall Jack will be starting his Masters in Environmental Science at the University of Virginia.

The good, the bad, & the "what the heck am I doing?"

Sean Cowan

Wilderness Ranger Fellow

Nez Perce Clearwater National Forests Priority Lookout  Trails (Selway-Bitterroot Wilderness)

7/31/2024 - 8/7/2024 

Growing up, I had family dinner every night. During each family dinner, we all would  share three different parts of our day. These were our highs, lows, and thankful parts of our days.  Since I often find myself lacking in the creativity area of my brain, I often go back to this format as a way of reflecting on an experience. This is a slightly adapted version which I am applying to my last hitch this season.  

The Good…  

WRF Colby climbing up to the Bear Mountain Fire Lookout in the Nez Perce Clearwater National Forest

Reaching the Bear Mountain Fire Lookout  

 Our main objectives for this hitch were to clear out to the Bear Mountain and Diablo  Mountain fire lookouts. Although the trails that give access to these lookouts are cleared each year, they had quite a few trees down after the historic wind storm that hit the Bitterroot Mountains. What felt special about summiting Bear Mountain was that it was just hard. Rather than getting constantly bitten by mosquitos, horseflies, and black flies, which had happened on the previous few hitches, we merely had to contend with the physical weakness of our bodies versus the tough trail. After we struggled, hot and sweaty up to the top from our camp, we met the wonderful lookout, Steve, who was staffed at Bear Mountain. It was amazing to learn about the life of a fire lookout. Even though my job is extremely hard, I doubt I could last more than 72 hours as a fire lookout.  

Visiting Elk Summit  

Sean doing some light bouldering after work on Blogett Pass (Hitch 4) photo cred: Nate Thomspon

After Bear Mountain, our next objective took us to the Elk Summit trailhead. Elk Summit  is a historic ranger station that is featured in the book “A River Runs Through It”. It was  incredibly impactful to read the book while base camping there. The coolest connection I had was that on my last hitch I cleared up to Blodgett Pass. This was exciting to me because the original way to get into Elk Summit was to pack in with a team of mules up and over the 30  miles from Hamilton to Elk Summit. I spent much of this hitch reading Norman Mclean describe the same struggles I have felt doing trail work. Interestingly, in 1919 he also describes the importance of preserving these remote areas in a developing world. What an incredible thing that we still have the shared intergenerational connection of wilderness.  

The Bad…  

This hitch, my knee injury from my hitch 2 finally caught up to me. On day 5, I started  hiking and almost immediately felt a shooting pain on the outside of my knee. Rather than overthink this pain, I decided to keep going and see if it would magically disappear. Instead of this, my knee nearly gave out when I continued walking. I “got benched” from the team that day and the next day to recover, and I had no idea how much I would miss my friends and the trail. I spent the next two days reading, sitting in my tent to escape the bugs, and eventually walking around the shady trees to escape both the heat and the bugs. How important it is to have a sense of purpose else we despair in our uselessness.  

A rusty Pulaski before Sean cleaned it

The same Pulaski after being beautified

What The Heck Am I Doing…  

Imagine this… You are sitting in brush, cutting a tree with your crosscut partner. It is hot, in the 90’s, and you are sweating profusely due to wearing boots, work pants, a long sleeve shirt, and your protective equipment. Now you hear the whine of a swarm of mosquitos and horseflies. Almost immediately, they start to bite you. In this moment, you might start to wonder why you even signed up for the job.  

Sean with a crosscut saw near Bear Mountain, Photo Cred: Jack

I have had many moments just like that this season. Luckily there was also plenty of  reflective moments. During the worst times, when it was just me and my thoughts, I began to process my last year of school. I realized that I have not been bored in years. This should be a good thing, but without boredom there was no space to give perspective on life. There is an incredible and unique power of wilderness in that it forces people to lose all distractions. So, in a life such as mine, filled with constant schoolwork, socialization, and quick screen fixes, the balance provided by solitude in wilderness is incredibly necessary. So, if you feel like you are overwhelmed by life, get out there!

Fresh huckleberries from the source! Yum!

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Sean Cowan

Mount Vernon, WA

Gonzaga University- Applied Mathematics

Growing up in Western Washington, Sean found his love for the outdoors by hiking and mountain biking in the dense forests of the area. He also became passionate about protected land when he visited National Parks all over the West with his family. During high school, he loved working on trails in his backyard and neighborhood. Sean moved to Spokane, Washington when he became a student at Gonzaga University. There, he has loved learning new outdoor skills during his time as a trip leader for Gonzaga Outdoors. Currently, his favorite outdoor activities include mountain biking, skiing, fly fishing, backpacking, and whitewater rafting. Anytime he can get away from the craziness of college life, Sean finds peace in outdoor spaces with friends.

The Quiet Ramblings of a Barefoot Boy in the Wilderness

Ian McManners

Wilderness Ranger Fellow

Selway-Bitterroot & Frank Church-River of No Return Wilderness Areas

This is me in the stream enjoying the water and mud beneath my feet after a long day!

I have read 14 books this summer on a variety of topics, but the ones that stick out the most relate to the wilderness and the wildlife within. I have read books on beavers and wolves as well as naturalist books. It has led to one conclusion: life outdoors is better barefoot. One cannot connect with nature on a level that is required to truly respect the beings within if we are so caught up in materialistic things. Clothes are mandatory (when around others), but shoes can easily be ditched. This summer I have taken into my own hands to feel what my ancestors felt and whenever not working on a hitch I ditch the shoes. I have since been on 3 hitches and here are my findings.

Hitch 1 S. Fork Lolo Creek:

I have never been one for eloquent words to describe my experiences but there is something truly special about being barefoot. Something we have lost with shoes. At our basecamp we were positioned next to a larger stream. First comes the sweet sweet release that following the untying of laces and slipping off of sweat-stained socks is unmatched. Then I was able to hop, skip, and jump into the stream for pure bliss. The first feeling of freezing cold against my bare feet was a feeling I will not forget.

Hitch 2 Bargamin Trail:

Cool boulder field from the trail

I took this hitch to another level— I did not bring creek crossers because we have feet. On this hitch I crossed streams every day, and instead of having to put on a different pair of shoes, I just crossed with my feet like people have been doing for years and years. I felt confident and in touch with the wilderness. Animals do not have shoes, why should I (well at least for a little bit)?

Hitch 3 Middle Fork Trail:

Trail Flat Hot Springs- at our basecamp along the Middle Fork

This was the most recent hitch and it was my first volunteer hitch. My first thought was, “How can I get Kasey, Steve, Lauren, and Tom to adopt my ways of the barefoot?” I would show them the benefits. Around camp I always walk around barefoot, no shoes. I will say sometimes and I mean not often at all, I do step on something and wince. However, most of the time I just get to feel the earth in ways you cannot with shoes. The different terrain as you walk, the rocks and sticks between your toes. By the end of the hitch, I think I may have swayed them, but only time will tell.

Final Thoughts:

I do not know if I conveyed my thoughts well but I so strongly urge you to ditch the shoes. I may sound like a hippy or too granola but literally nothing compares to it. You do not know till you try it. Yes there is a learning curve, but it is so very worth it. My feet have never been stronger, nor have I ever had a greater appreciation for wildlife and nature itself.

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IAN MCMANNERS

Athens, GA

University of Georgia- Forestry

Ian grew up in northeast Georgia and has always been drawn to the wilderness. He has been backpacking all of his life and has spent many nights outside. He lives for nature and does not want to see it disappear. He wants his children and future generations to get to enjoy the beauty he has experienced outdoors.

All Four Seasons in a Hitch

Rowan Grassi

Wilderness Ranger Fellow

Surprise Creek Trail #219, NPC

June 19-26 2024

Group picture in front of Horse Camp. From left to right: Rowan Grassi, Nick Hutchins (USFS), Nate Thompson, Joe Ferris, Bailey Underwood. Photo Credit: Josh Page

In classic Selway-Bitterroot fashion the trail starts off with a climb. This part of the wilderness is so much wetter than the Missoula valley, and I delight in the lush green plants all around me. Up and off the river corridor, it’s still spring. I spot camas and shooting stars, countless glacier lilies, and the leaves of thimbleberry and summer flowers just popping out of the ground. Bear grasses are just starting to put their stalks up; their flowers are still some time away. Our destination today is Horse Camp: a forest service cabin along Boulder Creek, which is a cold, thigh-deep, swift-flowing creek that we end up crossing four times over the course of the hitch.

Nick Hutchens (USFS) looking up the snow-covered trail to the summit of Stanley Butte.

The crew consists of Joe as our lead and Nate, Bailey, and I as the Fellows. We are joined by Josh Page for a few days and Nick Hutchins (USFS) until Monday. Our goal is to clear along the Surprise Creek trail as far as possible, brushing and cleaning drains as we go.

On the Summer Solstice, we discovered a surprise of Surprise Creek: snow above 6,000 feet! The sporadic patches were cute down in the valley, but as we worked our way up to the alpine bowl of Seven Lakes, the trail quickly became obscured under multiple feet of snow. It was a hard climb, but we found an excellent campsite in the bowl. For me, it was a novel experience to hike around on that much snow, remembering the best ways to get around safely and what to do if and when a foot punches down through rotten snow. It was still cold enough that mosquitoes were rare, and I enjoyed swimming in the partially frozen lake near our camp and glissading down a small slope to get my water.

We spend the next several days cleaning drains and brushing, getting hypnotized by the sounds of the mosquitoes and the loppers chopping a steady eight-food-wide swathe through the understory. It’s the kind of work where, when I catch myself having thoughts, they’re either about dinner or the land around me.

Looking across one of the partially frozen lakes in the Seven Lakes area.

For example: maybe I’ll have pesto pasta and veggie sausage for dinner...if civilization came out of wilderness then wilderness is a construct that only came about when we started to separate ourselves from the wild. When there is no more wilderness, no more wild, will there still be civilization? Both the ‘wilderness’ and the ‘wild’ are concepts used to describe that which is outside of human control. To me, wildness is the state of being untamed or not controlled, whereas wilderness refers to a specific area of land that remains in a natural state. Wildness typically refers to the state or quality of being wild, untamed, or not domesticated. It can be used to describe the natural behaviors or characteristics of animals or plants that have not been bred or controlled by humans. It can also refer to the untamed or uncultivated aspects of nature, such as wild landscapes or untamed environments. Wilderness, on the other hand, generally refers to a natural environment that has not been significantly modified by human activity. It often denotes a large area of land that remains in a relatively undisturbed, natural state, free from modern human development or habitation.

Over the course of the season, my appreciation for the wilderness has deepened significantly, and it has firmly reinforced my desire to continue working outdoors. Immersing myself in backcountry work has allowed me to develop a passion for traditional skills such as crosscutting, and I’ve come to truly enjoy the challenge of cutting and untangling complex log piles. This season has taught me that even though our efforts may go largely unnoticed by the general public, the impact of our work is profound. By clearing trails and maintaining their integrity, we extend the life of the trail system, and allow people access to areas that would otherwise be unreachable. This realization highlights a fundamental truth about wilderness work—it operates on the principle of silent, selfless stewardship. The value of our labor is not always immediately visible or celebrated, but it is essential in preserving the natural beauty and accessibility of these spaces for future generations. The satisfaction comes not from recognition, but from a job well done and knowing that our efforts contribute to preserving the wilderness for those who will experience it after us.

Surprise Creek running through the meadow we camped in towards the end of the hitch. Photo Credit: Nate Thompson.

On Monday morning we say goodbye to Nick and leave our alpine camp, working our way back down Surprise Creek clearing drains and brushing dense alder and willow galleries as we go. There’s been a big snow melt over the last few days and I note newly uncovered patches of ground where spring plants are starting to grow. We camp at an old packer camp in the big meadow we passed on the way in. The shooting stars are still blooming and the mosquitoes try to drain us dry. Tuesday is much the same as we set our sights on Horse Camp.

It’s Wednesday and after working to close up Horse Camp it’s time to begin the walk out. Down through the spring blooms, into the green vegetal summer. Down towards the road. Towards civilization.

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Rowan Grassi

Fort Worth, TX

University of Montana- Ecosystem Science & Restoration

Over the past four years, Rowan has called Missoula and the surrounding landscape home. Having recently obtained a B.S. in Ecosystem Science & Restoration, he is excited to spend a summer with SBFC exploring and learning how to be a great steward to these beautiful public lands and wilderness areas. While he hasn’t done trail work before, Rowan is an experienced backpacker and is no stranger to doing fieldwork in remote areas. When he isn’t on the trail or in the lab, you can find him knitting, reading, biking around Missoula, and listening to loud music.

My Perspective

Nathan Grooms

East Mayfield Creek

Salmon-Challis National Forest | Frank Church-River of No Return Wilderness

July 17-24, 2024

Day 1

Spend enough time in the wilderness – any wilderness, and one emerges with the impression that the land itself has amnesia. The trails are poorly maintained. In places, it feels as though the forests and grasses are actively attempting to swallow the trails, signs and every other trace of human presence. Leave a place like this alone for a few years, one thinks, and it would be as if no human ever walked here at all. In a way, this is the reason I am so drawn to wilderness in all its forms. The direct interaction with the land – hiking, climbing, sweating and stumbling. Wilderness makes you work for every mile and punishes weaknesses and mistakes harshly. No hitch this summer drove this point home like the Mayfield Creek trip in the Salmon-Challis National Forest.

The truck carried us to the trailhead, below rugged bleached rock and tall golden ponderosas. With heavy packs and the smell of hot pine sap in the air we began our trek into the wilderness.

Day 2

The Oxbow

The creek flows gently around its oxbow. The bottom, scoured deep on the outside bank, is painted in moving lights and shadows, revealing only a distorted hint of the orange stones along its bed. The dark, almost purple sand on the inside bank glitters as the cloudless afternoon sun picks out bits of mica – fool’s gold. Strands of grass trail in the water like lazy fingers, as the wind stirs the grass into an airy rustling sea. Small purple flowers play host to bees in the afternoon sun. Beyond, the burned forest, though dead, is alive with the song of birds and the chittering of squirrels. Fibers of moving water and current braid the surface, the latticework of time and erosion.  

By the end of day two, we had established camp near a creek, in a meadow of Indian paintbrushes and wildflowers, and scouted ahead to Trapper Creek. A small, nearly dry rivulet choked by pink fireweed and purple mountain thistles. The water was muddy and shallow enough for algae to bloom on the rocks. Small, but the only water to be found for at least 2 miles in either direction. With the pass looming above us and the heat crushing and in the low 90s, we turned around. To this point, we had cut perhaps 5 trees, and all of us were lulled unconsciously into a sense that this hitch would be somehow easier. Perhaps, each person thought to themselves, we will find the whole trail clear, or nearly so. I think it was these first two days of (comparatively) light work that set the group up for the shock of the next day.

Day 3

The Saddle

The ridgeline is quiet. Tufts of dry, pale wheatgrass hold on to the sandy soil, but only loosely, as if their strength too is almost gone. A tangle of bleached pines, long dead, betray the slope of the hillside. Their bases are eroded by flame and heat into jagged, almost mineral shapes armored in scales of black carbon. Below, far below, bone-colored hills covered in the corpses of thousands of pines give way in the middle distance to blue hills with bases of red rock, almost vanishing in the summer haze. Dry creek beds scar the opposite hillsides, like empty veins. At their confluence, Trapper Creek itself is almost dry. The landscape gives the impression of being dead, or nearly so. Yet life here is persistent. It clings tightly with long roots like hairs, or hides away in bleached seed cones, waiting for the right moment. Fast moving thunder clouds cast shifting shadows on the valley. Even now, the wheel is turning again. Nothing stays still for very long here.

The third day of hitch, Friday dawned warm and clear, a sure sign of heat to come. The camp by the creek was packed away into four bulky loads and our group set off for the pass. Our goal was simple: make it over the pass where our maps assured us we would encounter a creek and flat areas for camping, as well as make it out of the burned area into healthy forest. Though we had map data and satellite images of the other side of the pass, we had no specific information about what to expect. In other words, we were now truly heading into unknown territory, at least from a trail work standpoint. We were to be both scouts and workers. We filled our bottles at Trapper Creek and began the slow ascent up the pass in the early midday heat. About halfway up the pass we hit a dilemma. The trail, which had been clear and visible, disappeared into clumps of scattered grass, sandy soil, and dead pines. Not so much as a footprint marked which way we were meant to go. The rest of the climb revealed no trail, nor could we find it on the other side of the pass from the saddle. The bushwack down the other side was so uncertain and unstable for footing that by the end, each of us were sweating, cursing, and stumbling every other step. The person in front of me took a step, had the hillside slide out below them, managed to catch themselves and jerk themselves upright, fighting their heavy pack and the Pulaskis and saws strapped to it, then resumed. I took a step a few minutes later, and fell, barely managing to keep ahold of the 100-year-old crosscut saw in my hands. As I tried to get up, a horsefly landed on my forearm and bit, drawing blood. I swatted it, and the force of the swat caused more of the sand to give way, putting me back on the ground. And so it went. By the time the trail resumed at the base of the pass, there was probably not more than 2 liters of water to be had between every member of the group. The creek was dry. Frantic struggling up the dry bed ensued, and eventually the remains of the water were discovered and our water situation resolved itself. However at this point it was late and no promising sites had revealed themselves for camp. We eventually settled on a not too steep hillside, pitching our tents on the flattest portions we could find, each person slid and scooted each time they rolled over in their bag. Myself, I rolled over and my tent itself pulled its stakes and slid down the hill. I had to walk back up the slope to where my boots were the next morning.

Day 4

The Cabin

Tall grand firs stand sentinel in the clearing, throwing a quilt of sunlight and shade across the hunched roof and low log walls. The cabin lies deep in the forest, in shade and surrounded by bright tufts of orange Indian paintbrushes. The door hangs sadly open, crooked on its hinges and covered in pale green moss. Human debris litter the clearing, each like a single line from a book no one has ever read. A rusted door for a wood stove, the dented stovepipe lies in pieces nearby. A tin washpot, twisted by time into an alien and nonfunctional shape. A faded shelf, made of scrap crates, the word “Minneapolis” part of some logo or label is the only thing still legible. My eyes are drawn continuously back to that splintered roofbeam. It is collapsed under the weight of a massive fallen fir tree, forming a disheartened V shape. Like a broken spine. Like a broken dream. Who built this? Where did they go? Why did they leave? The pines seem to whisper in the soft summer-morning breeze. They say, “You are all only visitors here. You do not remain”. 

So, the first two days had lulled us, and the Frank Church had reasserted itself in dramatic form on the third. Now the work began in earnest, but with the work we also searched for a decent campsite, all of us agreeing that the previous night could not be repeated. Scouting down the trail revealed the scope of what we were in for. Over 500 trees down in about a mile and a half of trail. We also found several prospective campsites, and one abandoned fur cabin deep in the woods. We settled on a flat clearing at the base of a boulder field below the trail. That done, cutting began, first the smaller “easier” trees, then the larger. At the end of the day we were joined by Josh and our morale had begun to recover from the previous day, though none of us wanted to even consider the hike back up the pass.

Day 5

The Rock Field

Grey boulders lie tumbled along the slope, broken and covered in green moss. The sun is going down red like blood, filtering through the peach-haze of wildfire smoke and staining the western aspects of each rock and stone with faint orange tint. At the same time, purple shadows slink out of each crease and hole, slowly bleeding onto more and more surfaces. Juniper clings to the steep, sandy slope between the larger rocks, green and blue and brown. Birds call from the trees high above on the hill. A pika calls its shrill warning from a flat rock, while another darts between two boulders, its mouth full of grasses for its nest. Cold air settles like a familiar blanket into the low places of the valley, pooling and piling on itself after the crushing heat of the afternoon. Night will fall soon.

A long hot day, but each member of the group was in silent agreement that work was better than what we had done for the past few days, and we put ourselves to the task as if trying to distract from the intimidating thought of returning over the sandy pass. We quickly made the decision that since the number of trees was so large, we would leave trees lying flat on the ground. The “step over” trees were limbed to reduce tripping hazards and the others were cut, either with hand saws or the two massive cross cuts we carried with us over the pass. The valley rang with the sounds of thrumming saws and the sharp crack of the axe as wedges were driven into place. From my position ahead of the group with my hand saw, I could always tell where the main group was. Just listen for the song of the saw. At the end of the day, we had cut to just below the switchbacks up the pass. Or at least, where the map said the switchbacks were.

Day 6

The Burn

The heat comes down in waves. The sort of heat that always comes with a cloudless bluebird July afternoon. The type of heat that makes you want to just lie down and die, movement in any form becoming an effort. Black earth, crunchy with silica and seeming to absorb the heat of the relentless sun, puffs dust underfoot. Where once shade trees would have broken the sun up, now only bleached white skeletons remain. Burned husks, their pointed tips like so many accusatory fingers, pointed at the heavens which brought down the force that snuffed out their lives. Their scorched cones, long sterilized, hang on the branches high up, like weird alien fruit withering on the vine. The birds chip softly to each other from trunks hollowed by time and fire. Far distant, a woodpeckers rattle echoes across the meadow. The wind blows, bringing the smell of flower and fireweed. These things remain after the trees have gone.

Cutting up the pass was a daunting concept for all of us, but the trail had to be cleared, so we set off and began the task of clearing the switchbacks. The trees here were more burled and twisted, catching the teeth of the saws and binding up rather than cutting clean, but one by one they gave way anyway. One particularly nasty pileup, the result of a rockslide at some point took us almost an hour to clear. By the time the saddle was in view, the group had gotten over its trepidation about the pass, and amidst gentle cool mountain rain we ate our lunch on the saddle above the red rocks and the burned forests. By the end of the afternoon, our path up and down the saddle was clear of trees and we returned to our rock field, eager to be over the pass and on our way home the next day.

Day 7

We paused several times on our way up the switchbacks to scrape out parts of the trail which were particularly washed out. At the saddle, we regrouped and decided we wanted to push all the way to the trailhead in order to save a hike out the next morning. The rest of the day was spent reaching the trailhead, each of us exhausted by the week and happy to be done.

Day 8  

The Mayfield Creek hitch was a long and exhausting ordeal. At various points I questioned why I was even there. However, the overall feeling I came away with was not disappointment but rather excitement. We had succeeded in very strenuous circumstances and cleared a good portion of the trail. The wilderness had made us work for every step, and we had risen to the challenge.

Funds for this hitch were provided through the Secure Rural Schools Act and the Central Idaho Resource Advisory Committee, and private SBFC members/donors.

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NATHAN GROOMS

Oregon, WI

University of Wisconsin Platteville- Environmental Science & Conservation

Nathan is a senior majoring in Environmental Science and Conservation at UW-Platteville. Nathan grew up around the Madison area in Wisconsin, hiking and camping. Nathan worked three seasons in the Boundary Waters, a national Wilderness in Minnesota where he gained experience working in remote areas and developed a love of nature.

Lessons From a Wilderness Teacher

Clarinne Kirk

Wilderness Ranger Fellow

Hitches 1-4

Frank Church and Selway-Bitterroot Wilderness Areas

On the morning of my first day working as a Wilderness Ranger Fellow, I had to take a swig of water after each bite of my breakfast in order to slip the food past the knot forming in my throat and into my stomach, which churned wildly with anxiety like a stormy ocean. With hands shaking as they clenched the wheel during my drive to the office, I felt paralyzed by the realization that I had no idea what I was getting myself into. Yet, even while realizing I knew very little about the summer that lay ahead, I figured I at least could predict the things I would learn: how to swing an ax, how to pull a saw, how to dig tread, how to become a stronger person. Now, writing this blog in late July, as temperatures lay in the 100s and smoke has nestled among Missoula’s mountains, I realize just how naive I was. While I have learned the art of the cross-cut, how to retread a trail, and how to brush a proper corridor, I have come to learn that the wilderness is an extensive teacher with lessons that go much further than how to work and strike at the question of how to be. From five hitches and many hours spent in a beautiful and sometimes brutal classroom, here’s what the wilderness has taught me so far this season. 

1. Practice gratitude.

Sunrise during the final day of the training hitch along the Chamberlain Trail in the Frank Church-River of No Return Wilderness.

Each night before I would go to sleep, I would reflect on the day I just finished and the day ahead while listening to the birds chattering happily and the bugs hitting the fly of my tent with a consistent pitter-patter that sounded almost like rain. In these moments, sitting in my tent, feeling the warmth of the day linger yet cool, hearing the roar of the river harmonize with the birds and the insects, it is hard not to feel grateful. Despite the hard work, the bugs, the frustrations, the blood, sweat, and tears, the wilderness is always providing little moments of joy. While cross-cutting a particularly difficult tree on my first hitch and feeling my saw pinch yet again, I felt a wave of anger swelling inside me, threatening to crash down in a flood of rage and self-doubt. But then, I noticed a butterfly landing on the blooming Fireweed that covered the hills and I thought, “I am frustrated and angry, but even I must admit there is beauty in this moment.” For all the pain and anxiety we may feel in the wild, the medicine of the wilderness is much stronger. By the time I’m eating dinner on the first night of each hitch, I can feel this medicine easing its way through my sore muscles and into my soul. I feel it in the cool breeze against my sweat, in the nostalgic smell of sun-warmed earth, the feeling of jumping into a cold creek after a long, hot day of work. The wilderness provides so much and I have learned that when I stop to take note and give thanks for each small joy, the beautiful moments far outweigh the painful ones.

2. Don’t take it so personally.

The tree doesn’t have a vendetta against you. You are not weak. You are not an imposter. Your saw is just a little pinched. You just need to find a way to get unstuck.

3. Be proud of the mark we leave behind, but know that it will fade.

Hiking with the crosscut while clearing the South Fork Lolo Trail in the Selway-Bitterroot Wilderness.

On my second full hitch in the Salmon-Challis National Forest, our main focus was fixing some major washouts, carving new tread into the ridge line, and creating curving turns out of the creek beds for future hikers to traverse. While bent over with my pulaski, the sun pounding on my back as I pulled soil away from the hillside, it occurred to me that we were quite literally shaping our surroundings. Over the course of the week, we changed the way the hillside looked, removing bushes, redirecting the trail, and altering where future hikers would interact with their surroundings. From this perspective, it is easy to feel like a master over the wilderness, a sculpture molding a limp pile of clay. But the wilderness is not an inanimate object for us to shape but an ever-growing, ever-changing entity, just as powerful in shaping her surroundings as we humans. Eventually, the trails we fixed will once again be washed away; the trails we cleared will again be covered with downed logs, returning the forest to its innate, wild self. While this thought can seemingly negate the importance of our work, it serves as a reminder of the reciprocal relationship we share with the natural world. We cannot rule over the wild, but simply carve a trail at a time, cherishing the wild world it brings us into and knowing that the wild world can also take it away. For isn’t it this powerful, everchanging characteristic that makes the wilderness all the more alluring?

4. Surrender to the discomfort, surrender to the wild.

A part of accepting the impermanence of our work is surrendering to the power of the forest. In all ways, the wilderness has taught me the art of surrendering– to the dirt, the heat, the wind, the bugs, the fatigue, the uncertainty– while realizing that this surrendering is the most natural thing a human can do. We think that asserting our power or control over the wild will temper our anxieties, momentarily clouding our powerlessness in the face of nature. In reality, acknowledging our limits and the expanse that lies beyond us makes me feel all the more secure. No matter where I go or what I do, even if the trail we dug on our second hitch fades into the tangled brush of the hillside, the Salmon River that runs beside it will continue its course. The thunderstorms will build behind the ridge, release, and pass. The trees will grow, burn, and fall. The wilderness will continue to speak and live on. It is better to surrender to this power than to fight it.

5. Lodgepole pines need fires to grow.

6. We have more in common than it seems.

Fellow Marlena & I crosscutting a log along the Bargamin Creek Trail.

On the final day of the training hitch, we jet-boated down the Salmon River from where we were camped to where we parked. While sitting on the back of the boat, watching the ridges zoom past and feeling the powerful churn of the river below us, I turned my face to meet the sun, which had just ascended above the ridge line, filling the chilly morning air with rays of warmth. As I lapped up the sun’s rays, I considered the universality of the joy of the sun on a cold face. It is the joy humans have felt for thousands of years. It is the joy that makes sunflowers turn in a field, compels dogs to sprawl out in a sunny patch of grass, and entices birds to land on a branch rich in sunlight. We are often told of our differences. We are told we cannot get along with those who look differently, who love differently, who vote differently. Not only are we told that we are separate from those humans different from us, we are told we are separate from nature entirely, falling into two distinct buckets: wild and civilized. Yet, despite these differences, isn’t it wonderful that we all–from every human in every city to every ant on every blade of grass–find delight, find life, in a star over 93 million miles away?

7. Everything in nature has its niche, you similarly need to find yours.

Crosscutting with crew lead Phoebe Mather along the Middle Fork of the Salmon River.

During my first few hitches, I was swept up in comparisons, trying my hardest to keep up, to prove myself as strong, as tough, as worthy of being part of the crew. When I’d fall behind during a hike, I’d force myself to pick up the pace, worried about slowing down the group. When I didn’t cut as many trees my crewmembers, I’d make a pact to myself that tomorrow I’d double down, work faster, work harder. Being young, being a woman, being new to trails, I always felt this pressure to prove that I belonged, to prove that I was just as strong, as hard-working as the 6’2 men or seasoned professionals. Soon though, I realized that I can’t lift the heaviest trees, I can’t hike the fastest, and no amount of my trying and willing myself to will change that. Shortly after accepting the blow of this devastating realization, I began to notice the complexity of the wild that surrounded me each day. Not every animal or plant is strong or fast, instead, each fills a unique niche, allowing the ecosystem to be diverse and resilient. Finding wisdom from the ecosystems around us, I realized we too could be stronger if we played to our individual strengths and filled our unique niches. My shoulders may not be able to carry the heaviest weight, but they can provide support for a tired crewmate. I may not be able to hike the fastest, but when I inevitably pack too much food, I can share my extra snacks with my crewmates, ensuring no one goes hungry. We need strong arms, we need fast legs, but we also need ears to listen, mouths to speak words of encouragement, and eyes to see the positive in each hardship. In these moments, I realized that kindness, positivity, and support for others, rather than my physical prowess, could be my strength, my contribution to the ecosystem. From that moment on, I pushed myself not to fill a niche I never could, but to play to my own strengths and be a rock my team could depend on. When I stopped comparing myself to others and competing in a niche I didn’t belong, I was truly able to flourish and, more importantly, so did my team.

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CLARINNE KIRK

Spokane, WA

Gonzaga University- Sociology & Journalism

Clarinne grew up in Portland, OR, where she spent her childhood hiking in the woods and camping along the coast. Clarinne loves hiking, running, backpacking, and finding any way to spend time outdoors. She is currently a student at Gonzaga University where she has been able to further her knowledge of the outdoors through working as a student trip leader. Clarinne has a passion for protecting the environment and is excited to learn more about wilderness preservation and be able to give back during her time as an SBFC Wilderness Ranger Fellow.