Hitch #7 - Live, Laugh, Lop

Connor Adams

Lead Wilderness Steward

September 15-22

Nez Perce-Clearwater National Forests

#421 East Moose Creek

Brushing is definitely among the least sexy and exciting things we do at SBFC, but also one of the most vital. Cutting back small shrubs with a pair of loppers isn’t quite as cool as pulling a crosscut saw or swinging an axe, but a trail can be rendered basically unusable without sufficient brushing. For the last hitch of the 2020 season, I joined up with the Trail Crew and we proved just how instrumental it is to an accessible Wilderness. We were tasked with clearing any blowdown on #421, and more importantly, brushing out the very overgrown riparian area of the trail along the upper reaches of East Moose Creek. We left for hitch a day late because smoke from fires in California and Oregon made hard labor outside a risky activity, but on Wednesday we were back in the Wilderness and setting to work.

In my now four years with SBFC, I have seen a lot of the downstream section of the #421 trail, and it remains one of my favorite parts of the Wilderness, but as of this year I had yet to explore the headwaters of East Moose Creek and the surrounding valley, or Lost Horse Cabin up by the trailhead. I’m very grateful I finally got sent on hitch there, as that drainage is even more beautiful and wild than I expected. The cabin was pretty neat, too. We spent the first few days of hitch tangling with some thick spruce blowdown throughout the trail, and with the dull teeth of a crosscut with a full season of trail work on it.

After a few days of clearing, we spent the inevitable rainy day of the hitch hiking out to the junction of #421 and #463 to replace a trail sign that had been scorched and knocked over in a burn since at least 2017, the first time I traveled that trail. It was satisfying to finally fix it after three years of passing by that junction and seeing the helpful little sign lying on its side, unable to accomplish the one task it was designed for. Our tools for this project were limited, and even more limited when our one Pulaski head snapped right off its handle. We didn’t let that stop us though. We gamely dug out the rest of the hole using the jagged end of the Pulaski handle, using our hands to scoop out dirt. Instead of packing in a spud bar on foot for 10 miles, we found the heaviest lodgepole pine snag in the area that we could lift, stripped it of its limbs, and tamped our sign in with that. It wouldn’t do for a hitch rail, but for a trail sign it fit the bill just fine (P.S. nobody tie your horse to that sign). Happy with our resourcefulness, we ended the day by cutting a huge spruce out of the trail that the Trail Crew had left earlier in the season for lack of wedges, nicely putting a bow on their clearing for the year as well.

The rain turned out to be a blessing in disguise, as it snuffed out the smoke in the air and gifted us the first blue sky in at least a week. The rest of the hitch was spent lopping and brushing the first 9 miles of the #421 trail from Twin Lakes Trailhead to just near the junction with #463 at Cox Creek. In my six years of Wilderness work, I have seen some trails with brushier sections, but none with so many and for so long a distance. We put our loppers and hand saws through their paces those last few days, joking and enjoying the sunshine and talking about food (and basically nothing else). Though brushing can be dull and repetitive, it was immensely satisfying to walk that full trail back to Twin Lakes without getting smacked in the face with alder branches or tripping over saplings every 100 feet. The #421 is now clear and waiting for the loving embrace of boots and hooves.

Hitch #5 - Learning About Guttation

Justine Bright

Trail Crew Member

August 19-26

Salmon-Challis National Forest

Clear Creek Trail #022, Bighorn Crags Trail #021

This season was the most varied I have ever experienced. Every hitch was about as different from the last as I could imagine, and each hitch in itself was full of a diverse set of challenges and rewards. We started off our late summer going from a hot, exposed burn area into a sub-alpine snow storm, hiking out a different trail to avoid unsafe walking on the one we worked in on. The following hitch we went to Marble Creek, and each day I woke and put on wet socks and sandals to hike through stream crossings and frosty strawberry plants. My feet ached with cold on the frozen ground, but I knew that by the afternoon I would do anything to get out of the heat and sun. I am constantly humbled during our work by the rhythm of the day and the character of the places we go. It feels like such abundance, to be in touch with the weather systems, what is flowering or fruiting or starting to turn color and dry out, the water level of the streams, and the length of the days. That is what I miss anticipatorily while we’re working, as well as the work itself.

Our past two hitches were out of the Bighorn Crags - the most popular area we work in, but it’s not overestimated. Getting to camp at lakes for more than one night of a hitch is probably one of the best rewards for our work during the day, and I felt so taken care of in the Crags. The huckleberries were in full swing while the smoke and shorter days reminded me that fall would be changing this place and our lives soon. We got to watch a fantastic thunderstorm from our campsite on a ridge by Sagebrush Lookout, and could see lightning striking the hills around us. Storms continued through the night, and the next morning we got a welcome break from the thick smoke. The sky was brilliantly pink and orange, and we could glance at the red sun, warped by pressure, without feeling its intensity.

During our last hitch at the Crags we found a mushroom guttating- secreting excess water from pores in the fruiting body. It looked like it was seeping amber. They do this after a period of sped-up growth during nourishing conditions. Every time we passed it, I was totally filled with joy and gratitude for the growing conditions we’ve had.

Hitch #5 - Issac Lake Trail and the Double Creek Fire

Shannon Filbey

Trail Crew Member

August 18-25

Nez Perce-Clearwater NFs

#486 Dolph Creek, #939 to Maple Lake, Junction #486 to Maple Creek on #421

Another hitch worth of fallen trees and overgrown Ceanothus brought Pete, Mike, and I back to Elk Summit with full packs, sharpened tools, and a rough plan for the week. This trailhead has become our jumping-off point into a wild abyss of old growth cedar groves, craggy ridgelines, wrought burns, and glittery waters pristine enough to reprieve even the most strenuous of days in the field. It’s the Selway! Our intentions were to clear the trail out to Isaac Lake down into the East Fork of Moose Creek and all the way up through its confluence with Dolph Creek. We set our paces and made way for Cedar Creek all the while gray jays taunted our efforts from their aerial domain and trailside vaccinium branches slumped into the trail under the heft of their numerous hucks. The bears there were obviously total slackers so, in their stead, we dutifully stuffed our faces and water bottles with berries and enjoyed a hike-through dining experience of a lifetime. Sawdust confetti poured from each curf under a blueberry-powered crosscut late into the day until that stream ran to a trickle and the three of us were drained. Cedar Creek greeted us with a riparian refuge that supported firs oozing in usnea all swaying in the evening’s breezes. Fall seemed imminent and sleep did too. Firs shuttered, ninebark reddened, and lightning clapped overhead throughout the night and into the morning.

We made haste for the drainage divide between Cedar and Maple Creek and managed to clear the entire section of trail by the end of the day. The prominence of the crest displayed the glacially sharpened peaks of the Bitterroots all in blue-tint atmospheric silhouette. More proximate was the staggering landscape in which we have labored in and navigated throughout for much of the summer. We sat there for a moment, eating our nut mixes, cracking jokes, and mentally taking account of our travels aided by the visual before us. Behind us, westward wilderness was pending our arrival; or so we thought. Instead, it was prepping kindling, smoldering, and not to be disturbed by the likes of any trail-tramps anytime soon. We foolishly cached our tools on the ridge and made our way back down to our camp on Cedar Creek.

We set off to continue towards Maple and Isaac Lakes in the morning with full packs, but our plans were quickly thwarted once we received notice via inReach of a lightning fire approximately one mile east of May Lake in the Double Creek Watershed. All our tools were cached approximately four miles ahead and 3,400 feet above us towards an active wildfire and now in the opposite direction in which we had to move. On a steep side-slope, we emptied our bags, threw a bear hang, scrapped our plans, and prepared for a mission to retrieve our tools and bump camp down to the cedars groves near Dolph Creek, making for a 13-mile crest to creek day of backtracking. Morale slumped further when we encountered down trees where we had cleared the previous day. The wilderness is clearly indifferent to our performance and determination; as it ought to be.

We enjoyed good rest overnight in the company of our giant western red cedars friends. Bright and early, we cleared the trail down the East Fork of Moose Creek.  Late in the day, we encountered a jam-up of toppled cedars extending along the length of the trail and requiring several hours of sawing, which we did not have in us that day. A bald eagle inspected the length of the creek for an opportune dinner while we made our way back to camp through a mosaic patchwork of climax forests and burns where a historic fire had managed a series of creek jumps. Raspberries clawed at our legs in the burns and we clawed right back at their fruitful berries. The husks of ancient cedars now scorched and hollowed-out bleached their cambium in the sunlight wherever their fibrous bark had weathered and peeled away.

We pushed on down the corridor to make camp at Elbow Bend and the trail became more overgrown and bear sign was steaming around every corner. The cedar groves taper off where the valley narrows and the soil becomes shallow. Black bears popped in and out of the woods around us in their quest for grubs, berries, and human avoidance. This area is incredibly wild and it certainly taxed our stamina so late in the hitch. Upon a mishap in communication, a spontaneous pull on a jammed crosscut caught my left index finger and left me to consider how much longer it would take to type this blog with just a stub. Luckily, the cut was but a flesh wound, and ol’ lefty still lands on the ‘F’ key just fine. East Fork Moose Creek showers were waiting for us at the end of the day and we were joined by an American dipper and kingfisher to ring out the day.

On the last two days, we had a long hike back, a cedar pile-up that we had saved for later, and a quest to retrieve a first aid kit that had gone missing when it had rolled down the slope when we were redirected by the Double Creek fire. The smoke had become thick, our shoulders were plenty sore, and the novelty of binge-eating huckleberries and raspberries had worn off. The comforts of Missoula were near and provided all the incentive necessary for us to finish our work. Fireweed seed pods sprung open in our retreat and the creeks were boney. We look forward to meeting the Selway as it makes its transition into the cool season in the coming weeks.

Mike hikes through a burn on the 421.

Shannon poses in front of an old growth red cedar near the confluence of Cedar and East Fork Moose Creek.