Ascent to Joy!

Madison Murrill - Wilderness Ranger Fellow

Hitch #1 - Selway-Bitterroot Wilderness

June 23-30

Bitterroot National Forest

The lowest howl was answered by a chorus of yips and calls. On the first day of our first hitch in the Selway-Bitterroot Wilderness, a pack of wolves added enchantment to the already dramatic landscape. 

Sharp granite cliffs rose on the northern side of the trail, while to the south rock formations that defied all reason peppered the seven-mile hike to our camp spot. These features seemed unreal as we followed the creek, sometimes a cascade and at other times just a solid mass of water, the rushing of which often drowned out all other sound.

It was when we moved away from the creek that Phoebe (SBFC Wilderness Fellow), Wilderness Ranger Jack Ader of the Bitterroot NF, and myself heard the wolves. We had been lumbering along, each quietly regretting that extra item we brought that surely made our packs so heavy. Amazement and silence found us as the one wolf called out, and then suddenly many voices were resounding off the canyon walls. 

When we arrived, Phoebe and I were eager to begin the task we'd set out for. Jack Ader walked us through the process of inventorying and naturalizing several backcountry sites. It was an interesting and new concept for the two of us, and we were trying not to think about the mess of trees we'd passed on the way to camp. The process of documenting sites turned out to be the primary task for our first hitch.

The remainder of our time was spent tackling a pile-up of large trees in an area we fondly named "The Swamp". We also dug water bars and addressed some water damage along the trail while enjoying a few more performances by the local wolf pack. Although we were sad to leave the mosquitoes and mystique, the next portion of our hitch proved just as rewarding. As Wilderness Ranger Fellows, we became more efficient at campsite monitoring and clearing trail. We sat in awe on the shore of a nearby lake and marveled as an ominous sky slated to unleash snow gave way to a clear sunrise and beautiful day. 

Our first hitch was challenging, rewarding, and left us excited for the hitches to come. The Bitterroot has shown us just a sliver of its grandeur, and in the next several weeks we hope to experience much more. 

From Subway to Solitude

Six youth volunteers with the Catrock Youth Academy in the Bronx, accompanied by adult leaders Megan Robertson and Nicholas Radulescu, spent 6 days with SBFC in the Bitterroot National Forest at Big Creek clearing trail and coming to understand the meaning and importance of Wilderness.

Megan Robertson, group leader and creator of this wonderful video, currently lives and works in New York City as a data scientist, but she loves spending her free time outdoors camping, backpacking and hiking. She has been volunteering with New York City Inspiring Connections Outdoors (NYC ICO) and CatRock Ventures for over a year. She is the new volunteer coordinator and a certified leader who plans trips for various age groups. She started volunteering with the organization because she wanted to help youth discover the benefits of spending time outdoors and pass along her knowledge of outdoor skills.

Megan has generously shared her video with us so that we can share it with you. Please click on the youtube video link below.

If you’d like more information about the CatRock program please go to: http://catrockventures.org/

Artists in Residence fall in love with Fish Lake

Hi, we are Jonathan Marquis and Erin DiGiovanni. We were so thrilled to be selected by OpenAIR, The Selway Wilderness Bitterroot Foundation, and the United States Forest Service to be artists-in-residence and cabin volunteers at Fish Lake Guard Station over the summer. We met as graduate students studying fine art at The University of Arizona and came north to stay at Fish Lake for two weeks. By the end of it, though, neither of us wanted to leave.

The OpenAIR artist-in-residence program, in its inaugural year, is based in Missoula and works with strategic community partners to place artists in various locations throughout Western Montana, and in this case, Idaho. The application process was rigorous, and we were fortunate to be chosen. Many of the other OpenAIR residency locations were in communities with facilities, art studios, and access to supplies. Our journey as artists-in-residence was different. We went into the heart of one of the largest wilderness areas in the lower forty-eight with limited equipment.

It all began on a sunny mid-July day, after one final look-through of our supplies and gear. We split up, and each made our way to the guard station independently. Jonathan and most of the supplies were flown to Fish Lake’s airstrip (one of the three public landing strips in the wilderness area) by the Recreational Aviation Foundation. The flight into Fish Lake was unforgettable, and watching the plane leave while standing alone with a pile of gear in the middle of nowhere was surreal.

Erin’s journey began at the Gateway of the Wilderness trailhead, and she hiked to the cabin with her two dogs, Mica and Buddy, in one single push. This was Erin’s longest single-day solo hike into the backcountry with a full backpack, as well as, her longest stay in the wilderness. 

Making art in a faraway wilderness area is tricky. The limited amount of supplies that had to fit in a small, fixed-wing aircraft, along with all of the basic necessities of survival, required us to maintain flexibility with what we could make. Drawing seemed manageable, but inside the cabin was surprisingly dark – we had to wear our headlamps in the middle of the day just to see our paper. Outside, the cabin was mosquito central. So, any kind of plein air was a practice in patience and radical mosquito kinship. The amenities found in-town were also absent. Our days were filled with lots of work, hauling water, chopping firewood, and food preparation. These tasks revealed a texture or rhythm to daily life that isn’t always obvious in urban areas.

Working among these conditions highlighted how the art studio back home is a pristine artmaking environment. Out here, we had to work hard, negotiate with the cabin and landscape, plan for the unexpected, and respond to a range of variable conditions. At first, this was a challenge, but by the end of our stay we felt connected and embedded in the landscape in a way that few experiences can generate.

The wilderness art residency forced us to be extra creative. For example, the dark cabin became a darkroom for the cyanotypes that Jonathan produced. A cyanotype – the same process as blueprints – uses the sun to expose an image onto light-sensitive paper. In the cabin-turned-darkroom, we were able to prep and handle the cyanotype paper before completing the exposure outside.

The cyanotype process lends itself well to the exposure of objects placed directly onto the surface of the paper, a technique called a photogram. The objects in the cabin felt significant like they were entangled with the land and a sense of local history, especially the large saws that were used to maintain the area, trails, and fell the trees. The same trees that were likely used to build the cabin. There were so many wildflowers growing around the cabin too.  Jonathan combined the saws and flowers on cyanotypes to suggest the elegance, ruggedness, and fragility of wilderness.

Erin focused on drawing quiet moments of introspection through the miscellaneous objects found around the cabin. Commonplace items provoked questions of origin and value. How many hands have touched this broomstick? What was the journey like for those who packed in the wood-burning stove? Without immediate access to conveniences and commodities, ubiquitous things heightened in perceived value. An inexpensive lawn chair quickly becomes coveted for its slightly more comfortable demeanor than that of the sturdy wooden bench. 

The graphite drawings Erin completed at the cabin were then altered in her studio after returning to Tucson, AZ. She added vibrant layers of color and texture through the processes of screen printing and painting. The quiet and intimate drawings were altered by the bright and saturated visuals she experienced after returning to the city.

Together we also produced a collaborative artwork called The Monitor because one of our jobs was to monitor the flights that arrived at Fish Lake. The title is also a reference to the computer monitor that in a wilderness cabin is replaced by looking out an actual window! The Monitor was on display over the summer at an OpenAIR exhibition in Missoula, and other works of ours made at Fish Lake were on display at The University of Montana Gallery of Visual Arts in September.

Looking back, there were so many memorable moments, it was like one long continuous string of them. In the cold early mornings, we would often light a fire, read, draw and make breakfast, or sit on the porch soaking up the morning light when it was too cold for the mosquitoes to bite. We went on a lot of hikes, swam in the lake, we foraged for mushrooms, caught fish, and cooked from the land in a way that felt deeply meaningful and nourishing. We both cannot wait to do it again!

The quiet spaciousness at Fish Lake Guard Station.

Making art in the middle of the day. We had to use headlamps because the indoor lighting was so dim.

It was a bumper crop of wildflowers.

Jonathan exposing a cyanotype using a cot as a support.

The Gardener by Jonathan Marquis, 51”X96”, cyanotype on paper, 2019.

Lawn Chair by Erin DiGiovanni, 9”X12”, graphite, 2019.

On top of Eagle Mountain.

Out last day at the cabin. We can’t wait to come back!

Take Only Pictures - Leave Only Footprints

Connor Adams

Nez Perce-Clearwater Powell Lead Wilderness Steward

Final Season Hitch - Weir Creek and Jerry Johnson Hot Springs

It has been a long time since I first learned the rudiments of the outdoor ethic that is commonly referred to as Leave No Trace. As a kid exploring the woods of coastal Maine and the mountains of the Adirondacks, I remember frequently hearing the phrase, from my parents, from other hikers, and from society at large, “take only pictures, leave only footprints”.  That became the basis of my own personal code of behavior once I grew up and started venturing further and further into our public lands. That motto is a good start for a responsible way to recreate in the outdoors, but the folks at the Leave No Trace Center for Outdoor Ethics will tell you that it’s only the beginning.

For my final hitch with SBFC this season, I was gratified to take part in one of the Leave No Trace Hot Spots. Every year, the science and advocacy non-profit sponsors a team of traveling trainers to visit 20 “hot spots” across the country. These hot spots are places in our network of public lands that have seen a lot of visitation and a lot of human impacts, and which can greatly benefit from hands-on education, collaboration, and brainstorming. The LNT center works with partner groups, land managers, and volunteers to assess the human impacts to each hot spot, educate the public about LNT, brainstorm creative solutions for the increased impacts that these areas are sure to see, and lead a day of service at the sites themselves.

Of the hundreds of hot spots nominated for 2019, our own Route 12 corridor was chosen, specifically the very popular hot springs at Jerry Johnson, Weir Creek, and Stanley. The week began by hashing out the problems with the areas at Powell Ranger Station. The Leave no Trace Trainers Erin and Brice facilitated a meeting and brainstorming session with staff from Forest Service Recreation management, Forest Service Wilderness Rangers, a Watershed Restoration Ecologist who works for the Nez Perce Tribe, and representatives from SBFC. The following day, the conference room population tripled as folks from Forest Service and SBFC Trail Crews and Recreation Specialists joined in for an engaging and informative session of Leave No Trace programming. I’ve been in the world of conservation and natural resources for five years now, and I like to think I have a pretty good handle on LNT, but I learned quite a lot from this session. All the data and science that the Center uses to back up their recommendations I found particularly illuminating, and I know it will be a lot easier to educate the public with that science under my belt.

Over the weekend, we were lucky enough to be joined by students and staff from the University of Idaho in Moscow and Washington State University in Pullman, representing their Outdoor Programs. The students, Forest Service staff, and I participated in another round of programming detailing the seven principles of Leave No Trace (1. Plan Ahead and Prepare, 2. Travel and Camp on Durable Surfaces, 3. Dispose of Waste Properly, 4. Leave What You Find, 5. Minimize Campfire Impacts, 6. Respect Wildlife, and 7. Be Considerate of Other Visitors.) I was surprised to see that many of the students had never heard the phrase “leave no trace” before, but glad to see how engaged and eager they were to learn about it. It’s one thing to round out the education of a group of conservation workers who are already familiar with Leave No Trace, but another thing entirely to guide the next generation through responsible use of our public lands.

On Saturday, the Forest Service staff and the folks from the University of Idaho began the six mile hike into Stanley Hot Springs, where they would be working to alleviate the human impacts there, and I joined Erin, Brice, Courtney and Krissy from SBFC, and the students from the University of Washington to work at Weir Creek and Jerry Johnson Hot Springs. At these sites, we improved the trail so erosion would be lessened and sensitive vegetation saved, we decommissioned a number of social trails and campsites by naturalizing them and dismantling fire rings, buried a lot of human waste, and picked up dozens of pounds of trash. Most importantly, our staff and volunteers were on hand to talk to the public about these areas and about Leave No Trace on a very busy Saturday. I’m confident that many folks went home with a good deal more knowledge about responsible use of their public lands.

Everything I learned, taught, and participated in this week is a long way from “take only pictures, leave only footprints.” Everyone’s outdoor ethic is constantly evolving, as it should be, to keep up with new science and data, and new challenges that our public lands face from their 1.8 billion visits every year. I’m glad to be armed with even more knowledge about how to behave in the backcountry, and even more glad to have a new toolbox of skills and programming to pass this knowledge on to others.

Being Grateful in the Wilderness

Joey Hudek

Moose Creek Trail Crew Leader

9/3-9/11

Nez Perce - Clearwater National Forest

Being Grateful in the Wilderness

As my third season with the SBFC comes to an end, I find myself reflecting on my trail work career. I’ve been tromping around the Selway Bitterroot Wilderness since 2012 and it really has imbedded itself in my heart and soul. The nine day chunks of time I get to spend out there have become an important part of who I am today. It seems like every hitch the wilderness teaches me an important lesson. This last hitch the lesson was gratitude. 

I left my crew to join the Forest Service in finishing the Bear Creek bridge. Instead of flying in with everyone else, I was able to use the packing skills I learned this year as I accompanied Pete the Packer to Shearer Guard Station by way of the Moose Creek Ranger Station. I was very grateful to get this opportunity to practice new skills, visit Moose Creek, and hang out with Pete. But I sure was sore after 40 miles in the saddle! We joined the bridge crew on day three and my focus shifted from horse packing to technical bridge construction. Our goal was to replace the top cap on the south end of the bridge. The other side had been done earlier in the summer by the same crew, so this one was set to be a piece of cake as everyone was already savvy on the process. Well, it didn’t go quite as everyone had planned. There were some setbacks and unexpected challenges that the entire crew had to overcome together. We all learned a lot. But, we did it, the Bear Creek Bridge is now officially open after a year and a half of being closed to stock!

So, the project was completed and we were waiting for our air transport out of Shearer. There was lots of time for contemplation (our plane came way later than we expected). I thought about all of my trail work mentors who helped me get to where I am today. Two of them happened to actually be out on the bridge project, and I was grateful to get to learn more from them. I thought about Penny Keck, the bridge builder. I’m grateful to be part of her bridge building legacy in the Selway Bitterroot Wilderness. I also thought about what an amazing life I have the privilege of living. In the summers, I spend more time in the woods than I do in town, which sometimes doesn’t feel like real life, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. I’m grateful to get to call the Selway Bitterroot Wilderness my home for five months every year, and even more grateful for all the lessons I have learned out there.

Thanks,

Joey

Packing with Pete

Removing the top cap

Completed North Side Top Cap

A Sensuous Wilderness as Autumn Draws Near

Will Thelen - Trail Crew Member

Hitch #7 - Sept 3-10

Nez Perce-Clearwater National Forest

Like most of our hitches this season, our seventh hitch in the Selway began with an early drive down the Elk Summit road to the Hoodoo Lake trailhead. As we performed our morning stretches in the parking lot we were approached by a man and his dog. He was very interested in what we’d be working on and told us how excited he was to meet a real trail crew. What a delightful surprise to begin our trip with such positive affirmations from a curious traveler. It isn’t often we run into the public around these parts!

We spent the rest of our first day hiking down trails 486 and 421 to a scenic campsite along East Moose Creek. The smoke from the Monument Fire was very apparent. It filled the East Moose Creek drainage and we gulped down our last breaths of clear air as we descended trail 486.

Our primary objectives for this hitch were to finish clearing trail 442 and to continue trying to open up the Battle Creek Ridge trail (#432). All of Wednesday was spent clearing the 421 between Elbow Bend and the junction with 442. We were able to clear the 442 by the end of the day on Friday. This was surprising to all of us since it had been such a struggle to clear this trail last year. The smoke was the worst over the course of these three days, but heavy rain on Friday night weakened the fire and put the smoke at bay for the remainder of the hitch.

The rest of our time was devoted to clearing Battle Creek Ridge. Besides the first half-mile just after crossing East Moose Creek the trail was very easy to follow and the blowdown was moderate. This was another nice surprise since we had failed to even reach this trail via trail 462 on our fifth hitch (see Trevor’s September 3rd blog post). While the work was satisfying and relatively easy over these last few days, the rain really soaked us on Sunday afternoon!

Despite some smoke and rainy conditions, it was a good second-to-last hitch for the trail team. The lack of mosquitos, numerous seed pods stuck to our pants, low afternoon sun, and crisp mornings definitely signaled the end of summer. Yet again, it’s that time of year when we begin to feel a bit nostalgic for the trail season and start thinking about our winter plans. One more hitch left!

Work Stats: Cleared 256 small trees, 96 medium trees, 9 large trees, brushed 200 feet, cleaned 24 drains, constructed 1 drain, performed 330 feet of retread

A Wild Walk to Solitude

Verena Gruber

Wilderness Ranger Intern

European Wilderness Society - Austria

Bitterroot National Forest

The accessibility of Wilderness, or at least of parts of it, often made me forget that it is Wilderness I am currently in. Coming from Europe where protected Wilderness areas are rare, mostly smaller and often not easily accessible as they are remote, lack trails or can only be entered with a guide, it still amazes me that you can just drive to a trailhead and start hiking and will certainly cross the border to the Wilderness within a few miles. Most of the time, nothing noticable changes after crossing this man-made, artificial boarder, except for the amount of people you meet.

I visited several places that “felt” like Wilderness this summer but did not carry that label and on several occasions I was in designated Wilderness and was searching for where the Wildness in this place was left. In the back of my head I compared the Wilderness here, with what I know from Austria, where the Alps are one of the most developed and appreciated tourist assets of this tiny country. Big differences are, of course, the different kinds of developments, past and current, and the amount, as well as the spirit, of the people. Both are, to a different extent, excepted in order to protect Wilderness. But why do some places feel more wild than others? Not even considering the historic or legal differences in Wilderness in the United States or Europe. I can feel being surrounded by Wildness when I am just a mile from the trailhead and not when I am 9 miles deep out there. Maybe it’s the people that surrounded me all summer, either crew members or volunteers. There was, nearly, always somebody else there.

It took me all summer to answer this question and I might have found somewhat like an answer on my last hitch with the SBFC trail crew when I was far behind, trying to keep up to their fast pace up Huckleberry Butte. Or did Jack Ader, Wilderness Ranger in the West Fork, already put the answer to that question into my head when he asked us on our second hitch: Can you experience solitude with another person? My answer back then was, that I think you can, as there are different kinds of solitude. A solitude within you that I most often experience snowboarding by myself but being surrounded by other winter sport enthusiasts in a ski resort, and a solitude coming from your surroundings when there is really no one else but you. Now, after spending a whole summer in Wilderness and wild places, getting lost while bush wacking because I lost the GPS and when trying to find it also losing my crew, or singing loudly when walking over to the latrine in the dawn, I guess I have a better understanding of what kind of solitude Jack was talking about back then. And my answer now is that to truly experience solitude in Wilderness and what uncontrolled, self-willed and wild mean, you have to be alone, to embrace the solitude coming from your surroundings within you. Even if it’s just for the short, but dark, walk to the latrine.

The proudest moment of my internship. Felling a larch tree with Adam Washebek, Wilderness Ranger of the Stevensville District, to build the stringer of a new bridge over Big Creek

Crossing over the pass from Mill creek into the Fred Burr drainage on hitch 3 with Amelia Shields, Kathryn Bicking (both West Fork Trail Crew) and fellow SBFC Interns Connor White and Michael Reviere

Somewhere up Little Rock Creek, after I lost the GPS but found solitude!

Cowboy Poetry & Trail Crew Yoga

Josh Page

Frank Church Wilderness Steward

Upper Marble Creek Trail Project

August 21-August 28 2019

Payette National Forest

For the past several years, the SBFCF has been chipping away at the Marble Creek 222 trail in the Frank Church River of No Return Wilderness. A 25 mile section of the Idaho Centennial Trail, Marble Creek has been adopted by the SBFCF and as such has been a focal point of the foundation's for the last several years. The trail has a reputation as the headache of the ICT, and that is a reputation that is slowly being undermined by the hard work that the SBFCF is performing. Some back story is necessary if you have not experienced Marble Creek yourself. To access the trail from the Middle Fork of the Salmon, you need to hike some 30 odd miles from a trailhead, or fly into the Thomas Creek Airstrip and hike two miles to the confluence. To access the trail from the top you need to take a high clearance vehicle east from McCall, Idaho for three and half hours (a 9.5 hr drive for SBFCF when coming from Missoula). Once on the trail the logistical challenges do not end. Years of tree fall, rock slides, log jams, riparian brush and stream erosion make the work time consuming, and the trail has no less than 40 creek crossings from the top to the bottom. I am including this info only to try and paint the picture of how much work is required just to get an SBFCF crew down on the trail and working. All of that being said, real progress was made on the Marble Creek Trail this year. A group of six flew into Thomas Creek Airstrip earlier this summer and cleared up Marble Creek, reaching Trail Creek and creating a trail where for roughly 100 yards one no longer existed. From August 21-August 28th, a volunteer group was packed in by Bill Lewis and his trusty mule string and we worked from the top of the trail at Thunder Mountain making it down 11 miles to Fuse Creek. Over 190 trees were cut, some of them very large and time consuming, and over 700 feet of brush was cleared (mostly in riparian areas to make creek crossings more apparent), along with plenty of rock removal to make the trail more smooth for Bill's mules and all hikers. Because we were restricted to one camp site, our commute to work was often quite long and the work/hiking took it's toll on our bodies. Each morning we ran through a stretch routine to prepare our bodies for the day and prevent injuries. Although there were some side glances at first, soon everyone looked forward to what became known as "trail crew yoga". When the work day was done, and dinner was eaten and dishes were finished, we would gather around the camp fire and listen to Bill as he recited cowboy poems that were a mixture of hilarious, insightful and wise. Betsy, one of the project's volunteers, decided that a poem needed to be written about our experiences in Marble Creek that late August week. This is her wonderful poem, appropriately titled "Trail Crew Yoga"

I'll tell you a story you'll never believe

About the volunteers down in Upper Marble Creek

SBFCF was their sponsor

Now that's a mouthful, almost a monster!

They met in the boonies, a place where roads end

But paperwork continues, a Forest Service blend

of nonsense and questions-just sign at the end

A convoy of vehicles, they chugged up the hills

But Frank's car was so tired, it even had chills

It sputtered and sighed, almost gave up the ghost

Mike, Jodi and Justin thought they soon would be toast

But do not despair, Shangri-la lies ahead

On the rocky reclaimed mountain

with mules they would bed

For there at the campsite Cowboy Bill made his home

With a long green horse trailer and five mules of his own

That night for their supper they ate all they could hold

With Bill especially fond of apple pie mold

And each morning they gathered, their tools in their hands

To cut and to nip a clear path through the land

Each day they walked farther away from their camp

And before they returned they would rave, they would rant

"We can't walk this far, with our boots oh so damp!"

"Do not despair," Brother Josh said to his flock

As his axe flew so quickly it beat out the clock

"Come, come my companions, your gloom is not fetching,

remember, in the morning you all will be stretching."

And so in a circle, they wobbly stood

Their eyes barely open, their legs stiff as wood

They teetered, they tottered they cursed as they fell

For this was a version of Cowboys in Hell

For if trail crews do yoga, what then will be next?

Veggie sausage for breakfast and not enough meat

Plus all natural bug spray without any DEET

But somehow that stretching, it wasn't so bad

It made them all laugh, they couldn't be mad

They stood in the meadow, their packs on the ground

Their creek bubbled sweetly, the pika called "eep!"

With the beavers upstream still deeply asleep

This yoga, this circle, this being together

It made them a team, in fair or foul weather

The woods all around them, the wilderness acres

They wanted to help, to not just be takers

But let's not get sappy, this is only a poem

Without a real ending, and we'll all soon be home

The poems Bill recites all end with a joke

This one's a flop, it'll go up in smoke

I can't write an ending for I hope there is none

The woods will live on, in rain and in sun

-Betsy Kepes

To Betsy, Madonna, Dan, Jodi, Justin, Frank, Mike, Sally, Bill and your trusty mules-thank you for the wonderful memories and all of the hard work. Marble Creek only has three miles left of trail that were not cleared of tree fall this year. Next year very well may the year that the trail is finally cleared top to bottom, but it could never happen without all of the hitches of hard work that have taken us this far. To this year's volunteers and all of Marble Creek's previous volunteers and staff and forest service personnel from year's past, your work and attitude is appreciated and Marble Creek is well on it's way to becoming a gem of the ICT. As I tell my volunteers and interns when they ask how far away from camp we are, we're closer than we've ever been.

Official designation at Marble Creek Trailhead!

Careful Where I Step

Henry Vaughan

The College of Idaho

Nez Perce-Clearwater NF

16 August 2018

I would rather walk on a trail and avoid trampling most everything in the wilderness but the hard tread underfoot. And I like the feeling of it while on it. The trail feels historical. Its presence is the culmination of past footsteps, hoofsteps, and tool swings. There are logbooks kept in the cabins scattered across the wilderness which hold the evidence of a legacy of decades, the stories and quips of workers in the Selway-Bitterroot whose days were spent doing much of the same as our crew. The logbooks add substance to our hikes, a meaning to the trail. We walk down it at the head of a crowd of trail crews and rangers past. I used to have a feeling of wilderness as the empty spots on the map (despite us walking in with topographic maps); but we have spent more summer nights inside the wilderness than inside of our bunkhouse. It feels strange to be able to call that blank space home for the season. Wilderness isn’t as much of a place to get lost in when you find yourself in it more days than not--which is not to say that it’s no longer possible. There’s so much land that we haven’t covered and so much of it which is bound to look different by next year. Yet when we find ourselves hiking up and down part of the same trail four hitches in a row, the feet start to take over for the mind and there’s the opportunity to take a step back and focus on our surroundings. We watched understories grow, change, develop, blossom, over the course of the summer and observing such liveliness gives more character to the landscape. We started to see the drainages we hiked up as living communities. I rarely felt comfortable stepping into it from the trail. Few enough people travel through the Selway-Bitterroot that a plant not stepped on by me will most likely see its way to winter. Magnified by slowly revegetating subalpine environments, our footsteps have ripple effects. I walked out of the wilderness this summer careful of where I step, constantly aware of my own impacts. I also walked out excited to keep walking back in. The wilderness is a community of which I am proud to consider myself a part.

An SBFC volunteer hikes up the trail

A World of Contrasts and Colors

Bianca Signorini

Moose Creek Trail Crew Member

Hitch #4, 7/23-7/31

Nez Perce-Clearwater National Forest

Bilk Peak, Indian Park and Beyond

It’s impossible to describe the beauty of the vast wildernesses we get to experience in the West, impossible to capture in photos. The Selway-Bitterroot Wilderness contains such a diverse and vast range of landscapes, throughout this summer I’ve found myself speechless countless times by the sheer scale of solitary, uninterrupted wild space. Hitch #4 took us to one of the most beautiful places I’ve seen. Dramatic rock formations reaching into the sky, lush meadows, more beauty unfolding with every ridge climbed.

Working on trails brings you through some of the most intense contrasts you’ll ever experience: the happiest of moments and the lowest of moments. This is also difficult to describe. The beauty and joy comes at a cost, the days were long and hot, we found ourselves in intense thunderstorms, relentless mosquitoes, the terrain rugged and steep. But we always found ourselves laughing while we cooked dinner, spirits were high in spite of sore muscles. Low: my work pants ripped about two thirds of the way around my leg. High: we made “snow cones” with Mio and some snow Sam saved in his Hydroflask. Low: I left a pair of crosscut handles an embarrassing distance behind us on the trail. High: we ended the hitch at Red River Hot Springs. It’s a balance that shifts seemingly every minute of every hitch, it’s difficult to explain how dynamic and satisfying and difficult a day working trails can be.

Describing hitch #4 in statistics, which doesn’t do it justice, our humble crew cleared just over 26 miles of trail. I hiked about 70 miles in 8 days, bouncing between 7,000 and 8,500 feet in elevation, carrying nine days of food and gear and tools along the way. We brushed 4 miles of trail. We, of course, made four wilderness snow cones.

I can tell you about the hitch objectively in words, but the things that are really worth describing are these little bright moments: we finished the hitch at red Red River Hot Springs. In a warm pool we laughed and joked in the familial way a trail crew does. We compared bruises, reflected on the beautiful wilderness we’re lucky enough to spend the summer in, enjoyed curly fries and root beer floats in the way only ravenous trail crews can. Just like our beloved Idaho forests are impossible to describe in words and photos, so are these contrasting pockets of joy and pain that trail crews experience together day by day. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Bianca hiking with Bilk Peak in the background

The first campsite of the hitch