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.

*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 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.

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).*

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.