An intern's season comes to a close.....

Ethan Spoerry– Wilderness Ranger Intern

Luther College

Chaffin Creek

August 7-11

Bitterroot

It is difficult to describe the bittersweet feeling of the last hitch of a season. There is excitement for what lies ahead in our schooling or careers, trepidations over having to leave such an amazing place, and hope that we will someday be able see the people and places we have come to care for and love throughout the internship, an internship which has been so much more than a summer job or a resume builder. Though we did receive a significant amount of training and instruction which was both necessary and helpful for our work, I believe the true value of our time spent with SBFC was not in the training. Rather, it has been the life altering experiences and connections that occurred as part of the work we did. Though every intern came from different backgrounds from across the country, we all leave bonded together over one commonality; Wilderness. It is difficult for me to say goodbye to such a wonderful and wild place in order to return home to a state that has not retained such magnificent and preserved places. However I know in my heart that I will not spend the totality of my life bereft of wilderness because of the impact it has had on me. I leave two quotes from Edward Abbey that meld with those who have been into the wilderness and found a piece of themselves in the process: “Wilderness is not a luxury but a necessity of the human spirit” and “Wilderness needs no defense, only more defenders”. As you progress through your life I hope that you will join those who proudly defend wilderness, both in practice and spirit.

Iowa Highschoolers discover Wilderness

Sam Freestone – Wilderness Ranger Intern

Iowa State University

Siah Lake

July 26-30

Nez Perce-Clearwater

I stood immersed in the beauty of the Selway-Bitterroot Wilderness. My eyes scanned over the back of the Bitterroot Range, not capable of taking in all of its complexity. Dominating the front of my view was the treeless rocky top of Ranger Peak. Sitting out on the rocks in front of me was the reason I had come to the top. The new expansion of the IDAWA group, IDAWA2 as I call them (creative I know). IDAWA2 is the second county of Iowa high school students to start coming to the Selway-Bitterroot Wilderness for their first trail work experience.

I was one of the IDAWA kids just four short years ago. For me, meeting the Wilderness for the first time was like a strong bucket of water splashed on my face. The water shocked me awake and cleared the haze from my eyes, a haze that was planted there by years of growing up in Iowa's agriculturally dominated landscape. Iowa, which was once was a prairie which reached farther than most could conceive, now is one of the most altered and abused topographies in America. If it were not for the efforts of my county naturalist and the IDAWA trip, I may very well still believe that was the way it is and always will be.

Now, leading the Volunteers with USFS Ranger Erika VanHavel, I had the opportunity to witness the change that 6 days in the backcountry can make. Erica and I guided some through their first chop of an axe and found on each of their faces the same uncontrollable grin spreading when chips of wood began to fly. Under the soft song of the crosscut saw, I have found, it is none too difficult to become complacent in your spiritual connection to the Wilderness. Long days of trail work and consuming huge meals (just to be calorie neutral) can leave little time for questions of great depth. Though we try, it can be difficult to articulate ourselves unless we have someone with which we can discuss. It is for that reason exactly that the IDAWA program is so vital. Who better to question every thought, reason, and idea than a dozen high school age kids? Their discourse intensifies throughout the week as they begin to discover their own need for the land surrounding.

All perched on the rocks in thought, I wondered what it was they had on their minds. The wind picked up and blew through my clothing, a welcome feeling on an otherwise scorching and sweaty day in July. With the wind came a veil of smoke that now enveloped the distant peaks, but no amount can block out the sudden sense of place gained when you reach a summit. We stayed on top of that unnamed peak for an hour before having to hike back towards the Siah Lake and camp. Though we couldn’t keep them in that place for very long, I know their time will be held in their thoughts and memories for many years to come. If you ever hike up to Siah Lake and the highest point on the ridge that surrounds it, know you are on ground hallowed by the newest family to the Selway-Bitterroot, a small bunch of high schoolers from Iowa.

Base Camp - Cabin Creek - 24 days

Gabriel Duff – Wilderness Ranger Intern

Appalachian State University

Cabin Creek Ranger Station, Big Creek Trail

June 13th-July 6th

Payette National Forest

Just A Month In The Wilderness… It’s Casual

            “So how exactly are we getting to this ranger station?”

            “You’re going to fly.”

On June 13th, my intern partner (Steve Mantani) and I stepped out onto the McCall Aviation runway. In front of us was a small plane. Within the hour we were in the air, flying over the most beautiful country I had ever seen. From the front passenger seat I could see the snow covered mountains and the snake-like Big Creek directly below me. After a half-hour flight, we banked around a valley and began our approach toward the Cabin Creek runway. The runway itself was much shorter and narrower than I had imagined, but our pilot skillfully landed our aircraft with plenty of room to spare. Steve and I exited the tiny aircraft; two Student Conservation Association (SCA) interns and a US Forest Service Ranger greeted us cheerfully. Within an hour of landing we were already heading out to work on the Big Creek trail towards the Middle Fork. Over the span of two hours I had gone from a small town in Idaho to the most secluded ranger station in the Payette National Forest. Steve and I based out of Cabin Creek for the following twenty-four days…

Each member of our crew carried three tools plus all the gear and food needed for ten days of hard work. The country along Big Creek trail is gorgeous. We worked all day, talked all evening, and slept soundly to the sound of rushing water all night. We sweat, we laughed, and we all quickly became forever friends. If someone were to ask me “what was it like being out there for a whole month?” I would simply tell them exactly this: there is no better way to build a relationship with friends, hone self-reliance, and gain a true appreciation for the wilderness. Wilderness is natural; wilderness is therapeutic for your soul. It isn’t easy being out of the rushing world for that long, but the reward is immeasurable. The experience is difficult to describe. From seeing bears, rattle snakes, snow in July, gorges with pictographs on rocks, and the ever strong flowing Big Creek… All of it has made me truly appreciate the meaning of the word “wild.”

On our final day at Cabin Creek, we gathered around the dinner table for our last meal together as a crew. Our US Forest Service Ranger, Kenny, cooked us the most delicious meal that I could have ever imagined in the backcountry. We played cards until the sun went down and we couldn’t see our cards anymore. True friends. Celebrating after clearing and maintaining the Big Creek trail (20 miles).

Hard work, good company, and the true wilderness experience have made this an unforgettable adventure…

“The mountains are calling and I must go” – John Muir

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Everything Beautiful Ever

Kate Barrett – Wilderness Ranger Intern

University of Montana

Cabin Creek

July 26 – August 2

Salmon-Challis National Forest

This summer has been a cyclical one, three months built on good rhythms. For me, our hitches follow a predictable arc: day 1, when the packs are heavy, the week long, our bodies unbreakable; day 4, when the bear bag finally goes up without a fight; day 5, when every lake and stream starts to look like an appealing place to bathe; day 6, when the saw catches and the patience runs thin; day 7, when we come out and I’m quick to realize all I want is to go back in.

It’s giving me fits to think these rhythms are coming to an end—our next hitch will be short and then we’re finished. But let us not dwell.

Riley and I have spent the last three hitches working for the Middle Fork Ranger District out of Challis, Idaho. Many of the Middle Fork rangers have been on the forest for decades and they’ve been a joy to work with and learn from. They know the trails so intimately, it’s an inspiration. At this point in my life, in this line of work especially, it’s not often you find anyone who stays put for long. Everyone is out there bagging peaks, flying to Nepal or New Zealand, dirtbagging their way across hundreds of miles, collecting new places the way normal people collect furniture. And no one will say it aloud but one-upmanship is most certainly a motivator. Like, dude, you mean you haven’t summited Mount Whitney in a summer-time snowstorm at 4 in the morning? That’s too bad for you because, you know, I have and it was badass.

God knows I’ve participated in my share of chest-puffing. And sometimes I wake up in a cold sweat knowing someone somewhere is cliff-diving into an aquamarine pool in Southeast Asia and that person is not me. Quick, someone buy me a plane ticket; I need to lay eyes on EVERYTHING BEAUTIFUL EVER.

The rangers in Challis do not sit still, but they do stay put. They know which creeks have jumped their beds and where to part the undergrowth for a trickle of spring water. They check on listing trees at bends in the trail, season after season, until the snow or wind or gravity and simple time bring them down. It’s such a relief to see—it turns out this is the pace I’ve always wanted to move. Slowly. Deeply. With great care.

And boy oh boy, do we move slow. The Salmon-Challis National Forest, and the whole of the Frank Church Wilderness, is spotted with burn areas, which means our summer has been heavy on the cross-cut duty. Sawing around 300 to 400 trees every hitch doesn’t leave much time for other projects. We’ve been averaging somewhere between a mile and a mile-and-a-half of clearing for every ten-hour workday. This last hitch, which we spent on the Cabin Creek and Crimson Lake Trails, was no exception. We clocked out at 327 trees and logged plenty of miles walking to and from camp every day. We stayed in the valley for the first three nights (followed by frosty mornings), but packed up and made the hefty climb to Crimson Lake on Sunday. All our lung-busting paid off, though, because the lake was clear and cold and rimmed with rocky peaks. It’s easily one of the most striking places we’ve had the privilege to work in this summer.

Clearing the trail up was a taxing job, but after work we got to play—skinny-dipping in the lake, some fly-fishing, sunset gazing, hot-drink sipping. I was sorry to leave. I’m in Missoula now, smelling good, ready for the cycle to start over, waiting to get back in the rhythm.

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