Forrest reflects on his first hitch in the Bitterroot National Forest.
First Impressions
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Wilderness Work: Reflections on Gratitude
Karlissa Skinner
Lead Wilderness Steward
Season Summary
Bitterroot National Forest | Selway – Bitteroot Wilderness
Somehow it’s already the end of September and the trail work season has come to an end for SBFC. It was not without its challenges, but ultimately my summer in the Bitterroot offered me opportunities beyond what I ever could have imagined when I started in May. From blizzards to heat waves to encroaching forest fires and everything in between, from working closely with ten people to working completely alone, this summer was full of surprises and excitement. Trail work has helped me realize that even during the most difficult (some might even say miserable) moments in the backcountry, I find myself more at peace than I have ever felt in the city. These moments allow me to practice gratitude for the rugged beauty and ecological integrity of Wilderness.
So, yes, I am grateful that my crew and I got caught in a June blizzard during our first hitch of the season and spent 17 hours straight hunkered down in our tents. Because in the morning we drank coffee in the sun on the snowy shores of an alpine lake.
A very slippery and precarious creek crossing on Sweeney Creek Trail.
I’m grateful for the steep slopes that brought tears, scratches, and bruises. Because then I had to slow down and appreciate the beauty around me.
Tea I made from plants foraged on Mill Creek Trail: thimbleberry leaves, raspberry leaves, yarrow, rosehips, pin cherries, huckleberries, serviceberries.
I’m grateful for the mosquitos and biting flies driving me to the brink of insanity. Because I woke early to the songs of birds, to sunrises reflected in lakes and waterfalls.
Waterfall sunrise at Little Rock Creek Lake.
I’m grateful for the bear who visited my camp when I was alone in my tent on a solo hitch, miles away from any other person or shelter that might make me feel safe. Because I felt like I belonged, like I was truly at home just as any other being is in the woods.
Fall colors along Boulder Lake Trail.
These moments remind me that we are still at the mercy of nature, that the Wilderness is still wild. And it is this tenacious wildness that fills me with gratitude.
KARLISSA SKINNER, BITTERROOT NF LEAD WILDERNESS STEWARD
Karlissa spent her summers hiking and camping around Helena, Montana. Her conservation corps experience doing trail work and living in the Frank Church-River of No Return Wilderness helped her to discover her love for the natural world and wilderness conservation. Karlissa is an avid rock climber, backpacker, and river rafter.
Lessons Learned & Backcountry Sandwiches
Jay Majersky
Nez Perce-Clearwater NF Trail Crew Leader
Hitch #2 | Mocus Point Trail #469 and #208
Nez Perce-Clearwater NF | Selway-Bitterroot Wilderness
Everyone romanticizes this job. Don't get me wrong, it's great to have the outdoors as my office; the bright skies littered with stars at night; the sweat and dirt and sunshine. I love it all. However, this job is also hard and is full of challenges.
You've got bugs, bears, blisters, burns, dehydration, exhaustion, hypothermia, the fury of the elements whether it's sun, heat, rain, snow, lightning, wind, carrying extra batteries and radios and satellite phones and rope, gear, saws and a constantly changing series of circumstances in camp and at the work site. You're watching the skies and keeping an ear glued to the radio to hear the fire weather forecast, hanging bear hangs, digging catholes, filtering water, staring at maps and coming up with plans even when you're "off the clock." This job is a lifestyle, and it never stops.
Within all these moments I find a piece of solitude and appreciation for being so small in the forests. For example, the light patter of rain bouncing on the rainfly, butterflies, the serenades of birdsong, the babble of a mountain spring you're filling up water from underneath a grove of old growth cedar trees, or the painted sky of a summer solstice sunset.
But really, I want to talk about this sandwich I made last week. What does this sandwich have to do with anything? I'm not sure. But I think it encapsulates something about this job I admire the most.
To pose a few questions: "What happens when you go into the backcountry and something is missing?" or "What happens when you’re in the backcountry and something goes wrong?" It's really easy to see the failure and to get caught up in it. Me? I forgot my cook set on the kitchen table the day I left for our second hitch.
Despite everything, I didn’t have a to chance to get lost in my mind and upset about something as mundane as a missing cook set. I have a crew that is there to support me and there is always some other solution to be made. I have to adapt, or I'll just be stuck having a bad time thinking about something I forgot.
Finding a solution as best as I can within that moment is what I enjoy about this job.
I'm always having to think, and it's in these moments that I am able to look beyond the situation and tell myself,
"This could have been worse, but I did everything I could to make something new out of something I never believed was possible."
In this case, it was an open-faced ramen sandwich. And you know what? It was really good.
Open Faced Ramen Sandwich.
JAY MAJERSKY, NEZ PERCE-CLEARWATER NF TRAIL CREW LEADER
Jay hails from Connecticut. They started doing trail work when they moved to Missoula in 2017. Jay started backpacking when they spent three months on the Appalachian Trail in 2015 and has gone on to work in nine different Wilderness areas across Idaho, Montana, and Arizona over the last six years. Having a job that allows Jay to backpack, work, and explore these wild and remote areas of America feeding their wanderlust is a surreal dream. This is Jay’s second season with SBFC.
Above and Below
“You cannot stay on the summit forever; you have to come down again. So why bother in the first place? Just this: What is above knows what is below, but what is below does not know what is above. One climbs, one sees. One descends, one sees no longer, but one has seen. There is an art of conducting oneself in the lower regions by the memory of what one saw higher up. When one can no longer see, one can at least still know.”
― Rene Daumal
One might say that it’s human nature to want what we don’t have. We long for the valleys as we sit atop a mountain, and we ponder the mountain tops as we soak our feet in the creeks and rivers of a beautiful valley. This season, my days in the field felt no exception to this theory.
As I’d hike along the banks of Marble Creek or meander the forks of Monumental, without fail, I would catch myself looking up, curious as to what might exist between myself and the most prominent peaks in the distance. Sure, the world around me was full of life and activity, but what was up there? When we would drive to the Marble Creek Trailhead, we would come to a fork in the road with the Lookout Mountain Trailhead. “Soon!” I’d remind myself. I knew we had some projects in the near future that would allow us to explore the “up there” regions of the Frank, and I longed for them. The ridges and saddles of this remote region of Idaho would most certainly lend themselves to some lofty views. The views that make you realize exactly how small we are, and how huge this Wilderness is. And then, fire.
Just prior to our expected hitch on Lookout Mountain Ridge, lightning moved through the area and started several fires through the Frank Church River of No Return Wilderness, and Lookout Mountain was no exception. This was natural, and even good for the ecosystem. But to our dismay, we weren’t going to be heading out to this area that had eluded us all summer. We would be flying out to Cold Meadows Guard Station to work on Runaway Ridge, a place quite far from where we had been working all summer, and a place that held the term “ridge” in the title. The variation in scenery and work flow would be a welcome adjustment.
Fast forward to day one of hitch. We boarded our plane in McCall and set our sights on the Cold Meadows airstrip— about 30 minutes en route. And it's on this flight that I saw the landscape in a way that I couldn’t have imagined. I saw the rivers and the valleys and the peaks and the saddles all at once. I realized that its not any one piece of the landscape that makes this place magnificent, its every piece put together. While this may seem obvious, it felt like it was something I had been overlooking my whole life. Without one, the other doesn’t exist. Runaway Ridge certainly did lend itself to some incredible views. I saw endless drainages, a small glimpse into Salmon River corridor, made my way to the top of several peaks and saddles. But it was also on this hitch that I felt my appreciation grow for what was under my feet, instead of longing for what was in the distance.
View from above.
MONICA STAPLETON, PAYETTE NF LEAD WILDERNESS STEWARD
Growing up in Wisconsin, Monica spent her younger years roaming the woods. She has worked as a canyoneering guide in Southern Utah and a conservation corps crew leader. Most recently, Monica has worked as a USFS wildland firefighter with the Payette National Forest. She is happy to start her first season with SBFC, working in the Frank Church Wilderness.
Cold and Happy
Clint Kingery
Nez Perce-Clearwater NF Lead Wilderness Steward
Three Links Creek Hitch
Aug 3-11, 2021
Nez-Perce Clearwater National Forest | Selway-Bitterroot Wilderness
A few miles north of Frisco Peak, 2019.
This past week we were told to work trail #405, so we did. When #405 was cut, cleared, brushed, and re-tread with half the hitch left, we decided to just keep on cutting up to Frisco Peak. I’ve been there a few times with a few crews and couldn’t really tell you what the view is like. My vista has always been thick clouds and icy blowing rain. Beautiful enough in its own right.
Back in 2019, weather hit as my crew was working towards Frisco. We wanted to start our way down Sixty-Two Ridge soon which meant we had to make it to Frisco on the day in question. We got the trail clear to the peak after a 14-hour day in near freezing rain. The crew got back to camp as the last cold rays of the day’s sun speared through the finally dissipating clouds. We made a little campfire to get the gear dried out before we braved our iced-over tents. Huddled around that pitiful lick of flame with my pitiful wet crew, I was happy.
Clouds breaking on the way back to camp from Frisco, 2019.
This year, weather hit on our way up towards Frisco. Rain really started coming down as one of the Wilderness Ranger Fellows and myself were pulling the saw through a little fire-toasted 30 inch log. Water flowed in thick rivulets down our now fully-permeable rain jackets. We caught up to the rest of the crew as they were on hands and knees cutting 10-foot tall brush that fully obscured whatever tread there had once been. There was plenty of cold and plenty of misery as the wind cut through the many holes of our trail-torn rain gear and rain soaked all. We were in the clouds as they grew and rolled all around us. It was all just as I knew Frisco to be and I was happy.
Clouds over Three Links Meadow, 2021.
A few days ago I was strolling along the river a bit past Renshaw Creek. There was a rock-structure that we had built back in 2018 to bridge a culvert that I wanted to check in on. It got me thinking on a close call that I had with hypothermia as April rain poured down our backs and we wallowed in the mud while building that little structure. It had been my first time in the Selway and the first time that I knew I was done trying to experience every landscape out there. The first time that I knew I had found the place that I wanted to keep coming back to. I was happy.
Selway in the cold, 2018.
I don’t think it’s the misery that makes me happy, I’m no masochist and I sure do like being warm and dry. I’m plenty happy in the Selway when I’m comfortable; no less and no more than those few experiences. The people are a part of it, but I’ve been plenty of places with plenty of people. It’s honestly not even that it’s Wilderness, I’ve been to quite a few and always liked them more than any other landscape, but there is just something special about the Selway. I guess there is no sense in trying to define it. I’m just glad that the Selway is still somewhere wild. I expect that once upon a time the Lochsa Corridor had something special about it too but that’s a thing of the past. It’s important to me that the Selway doesn’t go the way of the Lochsa. Roads and echoing motors and human-stink. I can’t imagine that myself or others could really find much happiness in that.
CLINT KINGERY, NEZ PERCE-CLEARWATER NF LEAD WILDERNESS STEWARD
Clint grew up in Helena, Montana. He first discovered his love for Wilderness while working on trails in the Sawtooth Wilderness. He has also worked in the heart of the Selway-Bitterroot Wilderness and knows the Moose Creek area well. Clint is uncompromisingly passionate about Wilderness.
Through the Fire and Flames
Tyler Keene
Wilderness Ranger Fellow
August 12, 2021
Bitterroot National Forest | Selway-Bitterroot Wilderness
What a year it has been for fires! The heatwave that has been experienced this year has been like no other and to make the situation worse there has been very little rain in Montana. Here in the Bitterroot National Forest, fires haven’t been too bad but things are starting to pick up and get more active. This last hitch my crew was supposed to go up Big Creek and clear but due to a fire we were reassigned and moved to Little Rock Creek Trail. Luckily for us this has been the only time this season we were moved due to fire.
After coming off such a bad year for fires last year, forest management has been an important discussion on many levels. Currently, I am reading The Big Burn by Timothy Egan. It is about the big burn of 1910 which ripped through three million acres and destroyed entire towns. Eighty-six people died as a result.
During that era, national forests and the idea of conservation were becoming more established. The big push was to keep the land preserved for future people to enjoy. Some threats to National Forests were logging, mining, and railroads. The Forest Service was very young and newly formed. They were doing everything they could to protect the land and keep it for the people because they believed it belonged to the people, not big businesses.
Overlooking the burn area on Sweeney Ridge Trail.
Seeing first hand just how dense some of these forests are is quite shocking. Our second hitch this season was clearing Sheafman Creek Trail. In the first three miles of trail we cleared 350 trees. That was a trail that was cleared the year before, so the downfall had happened within one year. Looking forward to the future, there is hope that increased forest management efforts will pay off. In the end the hope is that the National Forests will be healthier and that fire risk will also go down, making towns and people much safer during fire season. At SBFC, it is a part of our job to help clear and maintain our National Forests and Wilderness to not only provide access to trails, but to ensure safety for all.
Fallen trees and burn area on Sweeney Ridge Trail, which burned during the Lolo Fire of 2017.
*Please note*:
The reality of fires is complex. George Weurthner and Dominick Della Salla have been doing research on the effects of forest thinning on fire risk for years. Please take some time to read the below article to learn more about their study: https://www.oregonlive.com/wildfires/2020/10/oregons-labor-day-wildfires-raise-controversial-questions-about-how-forests-are-managed.html
Bitterroot National Forest | Selway-Bitterroot Wilderness
University of St. Francis
Major: Recreation and Sport Management concentrating in Outdoor Recreation
Tyler grew up in Burien, Washington and spent his childhood outdoors hiking, camping, mountain biking, hunting, fishing, and kayaking. He went to college in Joliet, Illinois and was fortunate enough to do multiple backpacking trips, backcountry canoe trips, white water rafting, rock climbing, and caving. Tyler worked with the local forest preserve for a year and worked on various restoration projects around the county. He is passionate about conservation because he firmly believes that future generations should have the same, if not better, opportunities to experience the outdoors. Tyler believes preservation and conservation practices are vital in experiencing the great outdoors!
Women in Wilderness
Meghan Rorick
Salmon-Challis Wilderness Steward
Hitch 7: #4229 Little Pistol Creek
September 1 – 8
Boise National Forest (Admin by Salmon-Challis NF)
We are coming up on the end of our season, and it is bittersweet. Since most of the Wilderness Fellows have already left to return to school, our crew is down to two people. Through the summer, I believe our little crew of four (Lauren Simms—our fearless leader, Antonio Angel, Thomas Neidenbach, and me) developed a great dynamic and I miss working with Antonio and Thomas. However, we picked up a new member for this hitch, Jaime Breisch from the Payette crew, and I was excited for our … GIRLS HITCH!!!
Our task for the week was to clear trail #4229 along Little Pistol Creek starting from where an MCC crew had left off earlier this summer, as well as some campsite monitoring at Pistol Lake. After a very, very long drive from Missoula to McCall with another roughly 3 hours on gravel roads, we finally arrived at the trailhead. We camped there for the night and the next day hiked about 5 miles to what ended up being our basecamp for the rest of the trip. We discovered a lot of blow-down across the trail, and in our remaining 6 days of work (with 3 people) cleared a little over 2.5 miles and 316 trees.
Trail #4229: Before
Trail #4229: After
And tree #316, she was a doozy. At the end of our last day of work, our plan had been to do some brushing on our way back to camp—the trail definitely needed it. Well, you know what is said about best-laid plans. We came upon a massive double-trunk (what I think was) Douglas-fir in the trail. It took us almost two hours to cut and move this tree, but it was a satisfying end to our work day.
Double-bucking is always interesting: Lauren and I checking the kerf of tree #316.
Jamie and I still sawing away…
Tree #316: the end result.
The next morning we hiked the 5 miles back up to the ridge and wilderness boundary, then down to the trailhead and our faithful, waiting rig—a seafoam green suburban named Murphy.
On our drive back to town, I couldn’t help but reflect on our all-women crew and the amazing women who have worked, and continue to work, on wilderness issues. Margaret Murie and Bethine Church, the women working for non-profits and agencies tasked with protecting and managing our public lands, and all the women that I’ve had to privilege to work for and with during my time with SBFC this summer. There are things that these women have in common—they are all incredibly strong, intelligent, resourceful, and dedicated. Here’s to all the women in wilderness—I am humbled and honored to be a part of this awesome group.
From left: Lauren Simms, Jaime Breisch, Meghan Rorick
MEGHAN RORICK, SALMON-CHALLIS NF WILDERNESS STEWARD
Meghan grew up in East Texas, but had family in Missoula and fell in love with Montana at an early age. Since graduate school at University of Montana, Meghan has worked for environmental education and watershed health groups in Montana and Oregon. Meghan loves to explore trails and is excited to work for SBFC, where she can contribute to the protection and conservation of the wild places that mean so much to her.