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.

*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.

*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.

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.