Selway-Bitterroot Frank Church Foundation
Expect Nothing, Pull Saw, Slay, Repeat
Selway-Bitterroot Frank Church Foundation
I'll Tell You What
Selway-Bitterroot Frank Church Foundation
Why Work in Wilderness
WRF
Selway-Bitterroot Frank Church Foundation
Wilderness Growth

Forrest reflects on his first hitch in the Bitterroot National Forest.

Selway-Bitterroot Frank Church Foundation
Moments in the Mountains

To See is To Devour

Joshua Mendoza

Wilderness Ranger Fellow

5/26-5/31/2025

Frank Church-River of No Return Wilderness

In "Les Misérables", Victor Hugo writes the words “curiosity is gluttony, to see is to devour,” and hardly a day goes by when I do not think about it. What a good word, gluttony, what other way to describe the dilation of one's eyes like the opening of a miniscule maw.

The crew flying into the Frank.

Each moment on the hitch reminded me of my own hunger. From those first moments looking out of the plane window onto snowcapped peaks and frozen alpine lakes, I was wide eyed and at the edge of my seat. Shortly after being greeted by ranger Andrew and his loyal cattle dog Josie, filling our bottles from the stream because these clear waters had been tested and were clean. Setting up camp by a ceaseless, rushing, and raging river referred to as Big Creek, I knew the sound of those million gallons would lull me to sleep each night.

The author enjoying a hard day’s work!

As I wipe sweat from my brow and look upon this lost garden, I am reminded of the frailty of the present, the vacuum of moments past, and the aching heat of the new. I am reminded what a privilege and an honor it is to take my lunch break in a meadow surrounded by balsam root and shaded by fragrant ponderosa.

I have told my loved ones that this is simultaneously the hardest and easiest work I have ever done in my life. Not one moment was spent bored and not one moment was spent without the taste of salt from the sweat on my face. Lots of bugs.

The crew on the trail.

The crew found the trail!

The author with the ranger’s dog.

Joshua Mendoza

Albuquerque, NM

New Mexico State University- Fish & Wildlife Conservation Mgmt.

Joshua Mendoza is a Junior at NMSU pursuing his degree in Fish and Wildlife Conservation Management. Having been raised in New Mexico, Joshua has an ardent desire to be immersed in the pleasures of solitude, often seeking dark skies in search of the Milky Way. With a background as a hiker, and more recently as a research assistant, he relishes the opportunity work hard and learn about the natural world while doing so.

Finding Human Connection in the Largest Wilderness Area in the Lower 48

Raegan Dick | Wilderness Ranger Fellow

Norton Ridge/Marble Creek Trail, Salmon-Challis Forest

05/26-05/31/2025

On the third day of this hitch, I was nervous. The day before, we had made it 2.5 miles up Norton Ridge— a daunting 5.5-mile trail that gains nearly 4,000 feet of elevation to an abandoned fire lookout deep within the Salmon-Challis Forest. It was a tough trail, and I knew it would only get harder the higher we climbed. 

As we climbed Norton Ridge that morning, we ran into a woman named Kristin and her two dogs. She lives on a ranch inholding within the wilderness— one we had admired from across the Salmon River earlier in the day. We chatted briefly about our respective work before continuing up the trail.

By the end of the workday, around 3.5 to 4 miles in, our crew decided to push to the summit and see the fire lookout. The temperature had climbed to 85 degrees, and most of us were nearly out of water, but the opportunity to explore the fire lookout was within reach, so we went for it.

Part of the fire lookout at the summit of Norton Ridge. 

It turned out to be one of the hardest hikes I’ve ever done. Even after four weeks out west, I’m still adjusting to the elevation— the 7,500-foot difference from my home in Michigan hit me hard. The heat, lack of water, and general fatigue from a full day of trail work compounded the challenge, but quitting wasn’t an option.

Me at the top of the summit. 

The fire lookout came into view as we reached the summit, and I knew it was all worth it. Now eye-level with the snow-capped peaks, it felt like you could see for miles and miles in any direction you looked, almost like being on another planet. 

As we began our 6.5-mile hike back to base camp, I was preoccupied with how relieving it would be to finally collect and filter water from the river once we were back. All of a sudden, I slipped down the toe of the trail and twisted my ankle. The pain was sharp, but I knew that the only choice was to continue forward, one foot in front of the other.

The note and radio Kristin left at our camp. 

A little over a mile from camp, we stop to filter some water to get us through the final stretch. Not long after we started hiking again, we heard a dog barking and a motor approaching us from behind. It was Kristin, and she had arrived to drive us back to camp. The immediate relief I felt was immense, and I was overcome with gratitude for this act of kindness. She had already been by our camp, leaving a radio and a note offering a ride to the trailhead for nearby hot springs. Though we declined, the gesture meant a lot. (*Editor’s note: The SBFC crew was traveling through a private inholding, hence the vehicle!)

By the time we made it back to camp, I was covered in dirt, sweat, blood, and tears from the day. As I washed the day away in the river, I found myself feeling overwhelmed with pure, unadulterated joy. I was so grateful for the wide breadth of emotions in a single day-– anxiety, exhaustion, and pain, overshadowed by grit, pride, and fulfillment. 

Oddly enough, one of the brightest moments of my time deep in the wilderness was the simple kindness of human connection– something that, along with the breathtaking sights and sounds of the Frank Church Wilderness, I’ll never forget.

My fellow crew members, Nick and Abe, led by Berkeley back down Norton Ridge. 

Inside of one of the buildings at summit. 

Raegan Dick

Berkley, MI

Michigan Technological University- Forestry & Wildlife Ecology

Raegan is entering her 3rd year as a Forestry and Wildlife Ecology dual major at Michigan Technological University. She has a deep love and appreciation for the natural world and views it as something to be honored and protected. She finds solace in unspoiled wilderness, where the absence of human influence fosters a deep connection to the land. In her spare time, she enjoys hiking, snowshoeing, bug hunting, hammocking, and reading. Passionate about environmental stewardship and conservation, Raegan is excited to apply her academic, personal, and professional experiences this summer with SBFC.

The Season Begins: A Week at Powell Ranger Station

Bryce Shull

Wilderness Ranger Fellow

Northern Rockies Wilderness Skills Institute, 5/19-5/23/2025

The season finally feels like it’s begun. After a week of indoor training in Missoula, my fellow SBFC Fellows and I were eager to get into the field and attend the Northern Rockies Wilderness Skills Institute (NRWSI) at Powell Ranger Station in the Nez Perce-Clearwater National Forest. Nestled beside the beautiful Lochsa River and bordering the Selway-Bitterroot Wilderness, Powell is a perfect setting to kick off a season of stewardship.

Going into the NRWSI, I wasn’t sure what to expect. I didn’t know how big Powell would be, how many people would be there, or what exactly our classes would cover.

We left Missoula early Monday morning, making a quick stop at the Lolo Pass Visitor Center before arriving at Powell. My first impression was surprise— Powell was much larger than I anticipated. The station included bunkhouses, a gym, a barn, storage facilities, and more. Even more striking was the scenery: the Lochsa River flowed right next to the station, and the surrounding mountains made it feel like we were tucked into a hidden gem. But what stood out the most was the deep sense of community. Returning participants greeted each other like old friends, former coworkers reunited, and complete strangers bonded over their shared passion for wilderness stewardship.

On Tuesday, training began in earnest. All of the SBFC Fellows were enrolled in the Trail Maintenance Foundational Skills course. We loaded tools and gear into the rigs and headed to a nearby trail, where seasoned trail workers from across the country shared their knowledge and experience. We got our hands on crosscut saws, axes, Pulaskis, McLeods, and picks. For some fellows, this was their first time using these tools. Regardless of our experience levels, we all shared a common excitement for the week ahead and for the season as a whole.

Our second class focused specifically on crosscut saws. We learned how to properly care for, maintain, and use them in the field. We bucked logs, felled trees both large and small, and gained confidence using crosscuts and axes through hands-on practice.

One of the most memorable aspects of the week was the caliber of the instructors. Even those in seemingly simple roles had decades of experience behind them. On Monday, I picked up One Moving Part: The Forest Service Axe Manual—the definitive guide on axe use within the agency. Later in the week, I met Bob Beckley, who casually mentioned he was “just there to take photos.” It wasn’t until after our conversation that I realized he was the same Bob Beckley who wrote that axe manual. So even our photographer turned out to have a wealth of knowledge. (*Editor’s Note: Bob Beckley is also a longtime SBFC board member!)

What will likely stay with me the longest, though, is the sense of community at Powell. Everyone was there with a shared goal: to become better stewards of the wilderness. I spent time talking with crew members from a wide range of agencies and partner organizations. I found quiet moments by the river, helped feed the mules, and wandered the trails around camp. Learning didn’t stop outside the classroom either— guest speakers throughout the week shared insights and stories that added depth to our experience.

And, of course, I had fun. From dancing in the barn while The Pack Strings played, to throwing atlatls on the lawn, playing cornhole with other fellows, and simply getting to know everyone— I left Powell with more than just skills. I left with new connections, stories, and memories that I won’t soon forget.

SBFC would like to thank the whole NRWSI planning team, comprised of numerous Forest Service personnel, who dedicated their time, energy, and passion to making the 2025 NRWSI possible.

Bryce Shull

Springfield, IL

Southern Illinois University- Forestry

Bryce was born and raised in central Illinois. In high school, he began working for the National Park Service, which sparked his appreciation for protecting public resources. His love for hiking and camping grew even more after moving to southern Illinois to attend Southern Illinois University Carbondale. At SIUC, Bryce studies Forestry, focusing on forest ecosystems, resource management, and conservation practices. In his free time, he enjoys working on cars, playing guitar, hiking, and camping. Bryce is excited to gain new experiences with the Selway Bitterroot Frank Church Foundation and contribute to preserving our nation’s wilderness resources.

People Need Trails! Society Needs Trail Workers!

Berkeley Loper

Dates of hitch: April 3-8, 2025

Here we go again!

This year’s batch of seasonal crew leaders have laced up our boots, packed up our packs, donned our hardhats and leather gloves, and returned to the work that has made many of us who we are.

A wealth of experience surrounds me. There are 8 of us, hired on to lead crews of volunteers, youth, and Wilderness Ranger Fellows for the season, and we’re eager to be back to work after a winter away from the Wilderness.

Crew rides the jet boat!

Me and Emma after cutting a big ponderosa!

Our first hitch of the season was spent working on the Dwyer Smith Trail along the Main Salmon River. We began and ended our journey with an exhilarating jet boat ride courtesy of the River of No Return Lodge outfitters. Standing out on the deck of the boat and clinging on as we lunged through rapids, we couldn’t help but giggle with delight in the cold spray of the Salmon. After getting dropped off at Lantz Bar, a beautiful old homestead tucked away in the canyon with a few structures and a flowering apple orchard, the crew of 10 got to work restoring the trail that had recently been passed over by the Elkhorn Ridge Fire. We carried an array of tools with us, bringing rock bars, picks and pulaskis, hand saws and loppers, and our trusty crosscut saw up the switchbacks above our camp. It isn’t often that we get to work in such large and experienced groups, and it felt good to get our hands dirty for the first time this summer. Working together, we dug thousands of feet of retread to widen and stabilize the trail (over a mile of digging!). We moved big rocks and cut our way through brushy overgrowth. We restored switchbacks, repaired drainage, and crosscut our way through large logs that had fallen across the trail corridor. By the end of 8 days, we had cleared and maintained 14.5 miles of the Dwyer Smith Trail.

Working above the Main Salmon River.

We were treated to a cozy dinner at the River Of No Return Lodge after a week of work.

As we worked, our hands beginning to callus and our backs becoming sore and then strong after a season away, I thought about how so many people in our lives don’t quite understand what we do as trail workers. I often reduce my job to “I get paid to play outside” or “we just dig in the dirt,” so those around me feel satisfied and content with my answer. Because of our seasonal lifestyle, I think we’re often perceived as a bunch of misfits who haven’t quite grown up. We’re asked by older generations in our lives when we plan to get a “real job.” Aspects of this work feel too sacred to share with outsiders, and part of me is still afraid that even my friends and family won’t get it, or won’t see the value in it. 

Moody clouds one morning.

I’ve worked trails and conservation jobs all over the west, from Idaho to Montana to Oregon to Wyoming, and I’ve grown tired of watching my friends and coworkers feel the need to justify why they continue to play in the woods and dig in the dirt. If I’ve come to any conclusions in the last several months of watching National Forests across the nation lose their staffing and conservation nonprofits lose their funding while knowing first hand what an impact this will bring to our treasured wild spaces, it is that trail work is important, specialized, and irreplaceable work that undoubtedly has a place in the workforce. If seasonal trail workers continue to question their place in society, then so will everyone around us. When I look around at my seven fellow SBFC crew leads for the 2025 season, I see such a strong group of humans! This is a crew who knows what it’s like to hike 20 miles in a day with a heavy pack, or the effort it takes to move huge boulders or spend 10 hours digging tread. But this is also a crew who is creative with how they approach their work, who can make hard decisions on the fly, who knows how to balance risks and consequences while working outdoors in all sorts of weather conditions, and who cares deeply about the wild places we work in. 

When October comes at the end of each season of field work and my body sore and creaky, I often find myself wondering what it might be like to find another job. Something more stable, perhaps. Maybe something indoors. A job I care less about so I don’t have to give so much year after year. But when the snow starts to melt in the spring, I feel once again drawn to the wild spaces and the world of trail work. We keep showing up because someone has to; because if we don’t then these trails and all their history will disappear to time. We keep showing up because we believe that people need trails. And if people need trails, then society needs trail workers.

Now we’re two hitches down for the season and our little crew leader cohort has been working hard. Following our week on the Dwyer Smith Trail, Noah, Enzo, Brenden and I were sent out to begin the long awaited project of clearing the Stoddard Trail, a trail only accessed via a bridge that blew out nearly a decade ago. The bridge is being rebuilt, and once completed the trail will once again be open to the public. On Monday, thirteen Wilderness Ranger Fellows arrived at SBFC for the season, coming from all corners of US and eager to begin working the largest Wilderness area of the lower 48. I am thrilled to share this hard, special, sweaty, and fulfilling line of work with a new generation of trail workers!

Here we go again!

Berkeley Loper, Wilderness Trail Crew Leader

Berkeley has spent the first 26 years of her life beep-bopping around the Western US. Originally from Seattle, she went to school in Salt Lake City where she spent her time taking dance classes and playing in the Wasatch Mountains and nearby desert. Her first experience with fieldwork was with the Montana Conservation Corps in 2019 and after working trails and outdoor education jobs in Utah, Idaho, and Wyoming, she is stoked to be back for her second season with SBFC! On her off time, you might find Berkeley skiing, biking, trail running, crafting, and offering glitter (plastic-free!) to strangers on the trails.

The Book I Wrote During My Last Summer on the Selway

Joshua Doležal - Guest Post

The road over Lolo Pass from Missoula was slick with rain, but the melancholy felt right. I knew this was the last summer I’d spend in the Selway-Bitterroot Wilderness where I’d been a ranger for two unforgettable seasons. I always listened to Emmylou Harris’s Wrecking Ball and Daniel Lanois’s Acadie on the drive up from Lolo and down along the Lochsa River into Idaho. The bass and steel guitar caught the exact pitch of the forest.

The year was 2005. I’d just finished my PhD in Nebraska and accepted a full-time faculty job in Iowa. It was everything I’d worked for, but it meant the end of my summer work. The demands of teaching at a small college wouldn’t allow it. My Forest Service supervisor and academic dean were equally unhappy with me, one for cutting my tour short in early August, the other for arriving two weeks after my contract began.

I didn’t know then just how far my future would carry me from the place that had become my spiritual home. But I knew I had three golden months left to savor it. As I turned onto the gravel road where the Lochsa and the Selway rivers merge to form the Clearwater, I could feel a plan taking shape. I was going to write a hundred poems that summer and turn them into a book. 

It took me twenty years to make good on that promise. This is the story of how Someday Johnson Creek came to be. 

There are many kinds of wilderness rangers. I was the foreman of a trail crew, which required backpacking into a remote station and working for ten days at a stretch clearing fallen trees and brush from the trail, sometimes repairing the tread or small bridges. Power tools are prohibited in wilderness areas, so we did all of our work with crosscut saws and axes. We ordered our food by handheld radio, and a packer delivered it by mule every ten days.

Backcountry trail maintenance is some of the most grueling work I’ve ever done. We often covered 40-60 miles over ten days, carrying all of our supplies and tools on our backs. It was my job to plan the routes, triage work priorities, and keep us all safe. This little pamphlet was my guide.

It is hard to write poems after swinging an axe all day, so I filled several notebooks with fragments and devoted my weekends to translating those notes into verse. Even if I didn’t have the mental energy to draft anything at the end of the day, I was gathering images and ideas all along while hiking, sawing a fallen cedar, or reshaping tread with a pick mattock. Often inspiration came in the form of metaphors which I imagined sharing with friends and family back home. When I made it back to the cabin with my crew for our four days of R&R, I spent most of my time reading and toiling away at my poems. 

I drafted 120 poems that summer, but some of them fell flat, the way a dream fades in the morning light. Just 43 have survived. You can read some of them online, including “Duende,” “The Helicopter Pilot,” “The Skier,” and “Little Damascus.”

The poems identify some places clearly, but those familiar with the area might recognize the old guard station in “June Dream” as Shearer. “Mean” and “Bequest” were written while clipping brush between the Shissler lookout and Parson Springs along the Big Rock Trail. “The Logger” honors Ivan Hendren and his brother Shorty, who both entertained my crew during that final summer. “The Field” was written while repairing tread near Freeman Peak. “Molt” was inspired by a bear along the Selway Trail near Pettibone Creek. And “Little Damascus” came from a close encounter with a snake along Ditch Creek.

My crew headquartered at the Moose Creek Ranger Station.

The cover image comes from one of my own photos, looking from Lost Horse Pass toward El Capitan on the Montana side. 

Lost Horse to El Capitan.

Someday Johnson Creek is dedicated to the memory of Connie Saylor Johnson, my wilderness mentor and friend. Connie was a high school Spanish teacher in Iowa for many years near the town where I was a college professor. She discovered the Idaho wilderness in the late 1980s. After raising her daughters, she moved to Idaho and devoted the rest of her life to wilderness conservation. 

Connie and her husband, Lloyd, raised horses and mules and spent the summers in the backcountry. They believed that instead of breaking mules, you should win them with warmth, with a loving touch. They were like that with me, too, generous with hugs, a clap on the back, a firm hand on my shoulder. I thought it was hilarious that they’d named one of their mules Toad. 

Lloyd cooked huge stacks of pancakes for me and my crew at the Moose Creek Station. I can’t look at a Bisquick box without thinking of him. He nicknamed me Sawzall and emailed me salty jokes throughout the winter. Connie read my poetry, showed me all the secret water sources on the topographical maps, and packed our gear to the first campsite on our next hitch. I have many fond memories of cooking feasts with her in the Moose Creek kitchen, laughing as we sweated over the griddle and stove. Whenever we found fresh huckleberries, I always picked a Nalgene full for Connie.

I loved Connie and Lloyd like my own grandparents and visited them even after I’d given up my wilderness work. The first time I tried to find their place near Kamiah, Lloyd came and stood in the middle of the road so I wouldn’t miss him. When I got a little closer, he pulled a bottle of beer out of his back pocket and grinned.

Visiting Connie and Lloyd at their ranch in 2007.

Connie packing our gear with Lillian and Toad.

Lloyd took a bad fall several years ago. His mule spooked and threw him down a steep slope on Mink Peak, where he shattered his leg and broke several ribs. Lloyd suffered all night in blizzard conditions until a medevac team rescued him the next morning (Connie wrote a moving thank you letter to the crew). He survived for some time under Connie’s care, but I know they both wished he’d drawn his last breath on that mountainside. 

After Lloyd’s passing, Connie went to work as a camp cook for an outfitter. She was so happy to get back out into the wild country she loved that she didn’t mind staying in camp alone. But one October day while the outfitter was out hunting with his clients, Connie disappeared. Despite a prolonged search, no trace of her was found.

Connie loved the title poem in my collection and told me once that she had included it in her last will and testament. It is named for an actual place that I visited just once near the end of my final summer in the backcountry. I’m not sure it’s even listed on most maps, but I remember the name from the old wooden-bound topos at Moose Creek. 

Someday Johnson Creek is what they call a feeder stream, bubbling out of an alpine spring to join other tributaries of East Moose Creek. My crew was working a loop that led over Bailey Mountain, past Isaac Lake, along a ridgetop where everything had burned to a crisp the year before. It is unnerving to hike through a moonscape like that where the ground is still black with char. But I’ve never seen anything like that creek. It was a ribbon of green running straight through the ash. The stream formed several man-sized pools before it dropped off the slope. It was a hot day, and I was glad to drop my pack, peel off my dusty clothes, and soak in one of those pools while I waited for my crew. Part of me is still waiting there. 


That is the story of this book. It would be an honor to share it with the Selway-Bitterroot Wilderness community. 

Hiking Lost Horse Pass with my crewmate Nick. To the south and west lie the Payette and Salmon-Challis National Forests.

Joshua Doležal is a book coach and editor. He is the author of a memoir, Down from the Mountaintop, a volume of poetry, Someday Johnson Creek, a Substack series, The Recovering Academic. He now lives in central Pennsylvania, where he thinks often of the Selway (partly because that is also his son's name).

The Intersection of Wilderness and Technology

Ryan Ghelfi

Executive Director

Wilderness exists as a line on a map. It’s a line that also exists in reality, though it’s not always apparent when you cross it. Once you traverse the line, rules and feelings change. Change from a chainsaw to a crosscut, from a vehicle to foot, from loud to quiet. Another thing that generally changes when traveling from the front-country to the backcountry is cell phone reception. Of course, cell phones (particularly smartphones enabled with the internet) are a new thing in the last generation, but they are ubiquitous. In many Wilderness areas, a lack of cell service causes phones to become a lot less useful and distracting– until recently.

You can now use a cell phone to send SOS emergency text messages via satellite (which a Garmin In-Reach also does). You can also carry a Starlink in your backpack and take the internet anywhere, even in the deepest canyons and highest peaks of the Selway and the Frank. Traditional cell coverage continues to expand quickly. These changes are happening in real time. This is a big deal, and it will change the way we interact with wilderness.

Soon, it will require a conscious choice to leave the connected world behind, even 20 miles from the nearest road. Many of us now bring our cell phones into the Wilderness to take pictures, use offline maps, and listen to downloaded podcasts. These changes have already been monumental and have, in many ways, eroded the Wilderness experience. I am personally guilty of each of these things. But now, the decision about how to use technology in wilderness will be even more consequential over the coming years. Once there is widespread cheap satellite connectivity to the internet, we will have to actively choose to unplug. Otherwise, emails and texts will never stop pinging at us, even when we are 6,000ft deep in the Middle Fork of the Salmon.

I had a very engaging conversation with one of our supporters recently. This person spends many days helping people to experience the Wild and Scenic beauty and awe of rivers across the West. He told me a story about guiding in the Grand Canyon. In the past, there was no cell reception at the put-in. The night before the trip launched, all the guides would gather to get to know each other, play music, and talk about the upcoming trip, just as you would expect.  One recent season, the magical experience of connecting with fellow guides before a 17-day journey on one of the world's greatest rivers was shattered by, you guessed it, the internet. People were on their phones– talking, texting, and watching movies. That wonderful wilderness experience went by the wayside, with technology replacing camaraderie

There are many risks to Wilderness and our experience of it. But I think this is the most significant risk we currently face. There are countless others, and I don’t intend to diminish them. But soon, the choice of how we interact with Wilderness and each other will change, and we will have to decide how to reckon with it. So far, our society has been relatively unsuccessful in restraining ourselves when it comes to using addictive technology. Now is the best time for all of us to impose some personal guardrails.

We’d like to hear from you. What do you think about this topic? How has the use of technology already changed your experience of the Wilderness? What are you concerned about? Or do you feel like we are making a big deal about nothing? SBFC is a leader in Wilderness, but we are nothing without our many members, supporters, mentors, and guides throughout the region and the country. Together we will forge ahead on this grand Wilderness experiment.

On Leaving the Bitterroots and the High Country

Nathan Grooms

Wilderness Ranger Fellow - 2024

Preface: Every year, the Wilderness Ranger Fellows give a presentation to the public about their season. This year, Nathan Grooms presented in Moscow and his poignant words moved us all. He generously allowed us to share his presentation in the fall newsletter, “The Wildest Place.”

Nathan and Sean, 2024 Wilderness Ranger Fellows, on the trail.


Along with my fellow coworkers, this summer I was granted an opportunity to spend the summer in the Frank Church and Selway-Bitterroot Wilderness areas, two of the largest wilderness areas in the country. As the season progressed, we all grew and changed; we bonded with each other and nourished a beautiful connection to the land. As I sent photos and videos home to my friends in Wisconsin, many expressed how jealous they were or how they wished they could take a summer or a year and work outdoors as well. However, another response I commonly got was “Why would you do that to yourself?”

It is no secret that trail work is extremely strenuous at times, from heat to bugs, working on minimally maintained rugged terrain. I doubt anyone who has worked in the wilderness can honestly say they never asked themselves that question– “Why am I doing this to myself?” “Why do I keep coming back to these places?” “Why do I push myself to the limit day after day?”

The wilderness is often physically humbling and always challenging. Each federal wilderness area has its own character- from the rugged sagebrush of the Frank Church to the craggy Bitterroot mountains, and each is challenging in its own unique way.

Nathan in the Boundary Waters.

Prior to receiving this fellowship offer, I spent three seasons working in the Boundary Waters of Northern Minnesota. After three years, I told myself it was time for something different, but I found myself dealing with the same things out west as I had in the north. While paddling the silent lakes and rivers of the Canoe Country, I familiarized myself with the words of Sigurd F. Olson, a Minnesota-native writer who focuses on wilderness. In his book by the same title, Olson discusses what he calls the singing wilderness. 

One quote has always stuck with me; I find it best describes my connection to the wilderness. He writes: 

“I have heard it on misty migration nights, when the dark has been alive with the high calling of birds, and in rapids when the air has been full of their rushing thunder. I have caught it at dawn when the mists were moving out of the bays, and on cold winter nights when the stars seemed close enough to touch. But the singing can even be heard in the soft guttering of an open fire, or in the drumming of rain on a tent roof, and sometimes not until long afterward, when like an echo out of the past, you know it was there in some quiet moment when you were doing something simple in the out-of-doors… I have discovered that I am not alone in my listening; that the search for places where the singing may be heard goes on everywhere. It seems to be part of a hunger that we share for a time when we were closer to lakes and rivers, to mountain and meadow and forest, than we are today.”

 I’m sure anyone who spends time in the outdoors can relate to the sentiment, a connection to our shared past when we all existed primarily outdoors.

Nathan and Sam (2024 Fellow) after cutting a massive tree.

This summer, my friends and I sacrificed modern comforts, some of us for the first time. We traversed trails used by humans for thousands of years. Slept on the ground under the stars or in tents, and familiarized ourselves with the tools and techniques which have changed little in the past century. Since no mechanized equipment is allowed within wilderness, we familiarized ourselves with crosscut saws, many of which were crafted in mills which no longer exist, and are older than most living humans, and the Pulaski, which was developed over a century ago– the design has changed little since. Likewise, the purpose of the wilderness is to preserve the land as it was in the past– when man was a visitor who did not or could not remain, ensuring that moving in the wilderness has the feel of traversing the past. So why does the wilderness call so many to sacrifice their conveniences for a time and return to this past? “Why do we do this to ourselves?” As Sigurd wrote, “There is within us an impatience with things as they are, which modern life with its comforts and distractions does not seem to satisfy. We sense intuitively that there must be something more.”

In my time within the wilderness of Montana and Idaho, I heard the singing too. I heard it on the summit of Trapper Peak, when the sun broke through a big snow flurry and cast a rainbow down on the valley of ice and talus. I heard it on nights spent cowboy camping under a silent blanket of a million stars. I heard it in the sound of summer rain on my tent, and the smell of damp earth as I unzipped it and put on my boots. I heard it in a field of blazing paintbrushes surrounding a long derelict trapper cabin, and in the smell of wildflowers and hot pine that hung in the air. Once heard, it is not a call easily resisted, as I’m sure anyone familiar with the outdoors can attest.

I know I am not the only one who came here this summer for that reason– there are others. Whether we know it or not, we instinctively seek it out. And if it takes hours of sweat in the August heat or blisters on feet from days of unceasing rain, trails so eroded one questions whether they are trails at all, or splinters and bruises from lost stob thorns and tools, then perhaps that makes the singing all the sweeter when we inevitably find it after all. This experience has had an impact on me and every other person who had this opportunity and I know for me it is just the beginning of much more time spent in the wilderness.

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"

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.

—————-

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!

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!

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