In The Frank and Feeling Normal

Hitch #4 Waterfall Creek Trail #045 and Gant Ridge Trail #028

Josh Page

Frank Church Lead Wilderness Steward

August 5-12

Forest: Salmon-Challis NF

For the past three seasons, sometime between mid-July and August, I have been fortunate enough to spend a hitch or two among the sacred jagged spires, ridges and alpine lakes collectively known as the Bighorn Crags. My going there almost feels like an acknowledgement that the peak of summer has come. This year though, the Bighorn Crags were just the gateway to our main objective, the clearing of the Waterfall Creek Trail #045. From it's high point at the pass above Terrace Lakes, the #045 trail sits above 9,000 feet. Over the next 11 miles it almost continuously drops as it cascades down to it's terminus at the Middle Fork of the Salmon at 3'400 feet elevation. From August 6-10 our goal was to connect these two vastly different worlds with a small, uninterrupted ribbon of tread, free of obtrusions of trees and rocks. 

After backpacking past folks at Welcome Lake and Heart Lake, we dropped up and over into the Terrace Lakes bowl-the headwaters of Waterfall Creek. For one glorious night, we had the luxury of setting up camp on the land bridge separating the uppermost and second uppermost lakes where we had unparalleled views and each had our own personal lake to bathe in (and a spare to boot). Once below the lakes, however, we quickly dropped into an old burn where snags stood as memorials to the fire, ready to fall at the slightest of breezes to their final resting place. As the trail switchbacked its way down through the skeleton forest, we cleared fallen trees with crosscuts, hand saws and axes and cleared debris from the many waterbars that we came across, eventually dropping to our camp, a small flat by Waterfall Creek relatively free of snags-by far the biggest threat to a sleeping trail crew (given our location). Over the next several days we meticulously made our way down the trail following a similar routine: Hike to the work site and our cached tools, clear the trail as far as we can, cache the tools at the new far point, hike back to camp, and bathe in two feet of cold, fast flowing creek water to try and wash away the soot of the burnt forest. Monday was our last day alloted to clearing this trail, we still had five miles to go if we were gonna clear the entire trail and it was beginning to look like our objective might not be met, but we had the right combination of grit, skill and luck to, finally at 3:30 pm, reach the Middle Fork of the Salmon. Knowing five miles and 3,000 feet of elevation gain were between us and camp, and given the heat of the sun beating down on us and radiating off of every surface, I could have cried tears of joy as my feet stepped into that cold, beautiful river. All too soon though, it was time to dry off and begin the long trek back towards camp, and the next day towards the Bighorn Crags. Monday ended up being a 13 hr workday, but we were all proud to have finished the trail. We finished the hitch working on the Gant Ridge trail and camped at Cathedral Lake, exhausted, but with our heads held high for all that we had accomplished before we headed back to the Bighorn Crags campground on Wednesday.

During these cautious times in the world, I am eternally grateful for the normalcy that I get to feel every time I go out on an eight-day hitch into the Frank Church River of No Return Wilderness. Once our small pod of me, Carly and Justine are out in the woods and away from the constant news and various reminders of how much our world has changed, I am reminded that nature is still more or less following it's typical patterns. Late July had arrived and the snows had melted enough that I could once more visit and work in the Bighorn Crags, doing our small part to clear trails for the adventurous souls that also are looking for solitude and calm in these stressful times. So for anyone looking for a wild ride, the Waterfall Creek Trail #045 is open top to bottom. I just have to recommend floating out from the bottom if you can swing it-that climb back to the Crags is not for the faint of heart. 

Terrace Lakes from the pass

Carly & Justine cross cutting a tree from the Waterfall Creek #045 trail

Justine hiking along the Waterfall Creek #045 trail with the canyon of the Middle Fork of the Salmon in the background

My tent overlooking the uppermost of the Terrace Lakes

A Summer of Surprises

Isabelle Mills

Wilderness Ranger Fellow

August 4-11

Nez-Perce Clearwater National Forest

Big Sand Lake #4, Frog Peak #906, Hidden Peak #10, Big Sand Creek #1, Little Dead Elk #5 #50 to Packbox Pass

Wow, the last hitch is done already! I am glad I got to write about my last hitch because it gave me some time and perspective to reflect on this experience. Every hitch this season seemed to get progressively better and the last hitch was most definitely the best of all. The final hitch started with a huge blowout on the road to the Colt Creek Trailhead so Connor, Will, and I had to hike a mile on the road to reach the trailhead. The first trail we cleared was located in a burn area. We endured high temps and intense sun (which made me nervous when I forgot my sunscreen one day, but I came out unburned). On the third day a storm, with lots of aggressive thunder, managed to cool things down.  Even though it did not rain much, it was enough to completely soak our boots and they remained wet for the next couple days. It is surprising how much more I hate grass when it is covered in water droplets. We did build a fire and were able to dry our boots (at least a bit).

Pulling out of the burn area and leaving it behind was a welcome relief and camping at Garnet Creek was a gift. Also, no more need for tools, because we spent the rest of the hitch doing campsite monitoring. On day five Will and I went up to White Sand Lake to monitor the campsites while Connor headed up to Parachute Lake. Even though we lost the trail a couple times, it was one of the best days of the summer. White Sand is a beautiful lake and we had some time to swim and relax before hiking back down.

The next day was spectacular. We continued to monitor campsites on the way up to Packbox Pass and planned to meet Madi, Phoebe, and Tori at the top. After a wet and buggy morning, we hiked up to the pass and waited for the other crew. The summit was breathtakingly beautiful, plus, seeing several backpackers was a nice treat too. Not only did we get to see Madi, Phoebe, and Tori but we also saw more people on that trail than we had seen all summer.

Those last two days really reminded me of why all the hard parts are worth it. I am so glad that we had that time to just enjoy the Wilderness before getting back to work. On the final day Will, Connor, and I monitored the campsites we had passed on our way in then hiked back up the road to our cars and said farewell to the Wilderness.

As we approached civilization, I started feeling nostalgic about the season and how everything had happened so quickly. From beginning to end, this whole summer was unexpected and exciting. I had learned so much about the Wilderness and myself. I am glad I stuck it out through the hard times because it made the good parts that much sweeter.

Hitch #3 - Big Sand Lake Clearing

Mike Skladanowski

Trail Crew Member

July 21-28

Nez Perce-Clearwater NF

We started this hitch where we left off just 1 week earlier, clearing trail #4 up to the beautiful Big Sand Lake. We camped there for the first two nights of our 7-night, 8-day hitch, waking up each morning to majestic peaks silhouetted by the rising sun behind them. It wasn’t long though before the sun would warm the day and the mosquitos would prod us back to work with their gentle reminders to keep moving. From Big Sand Lake we cleared trail #906, bushing back overgrown snowbrush and removing logs as we passed over two ridges to reset camp at Frog lake. Those first three days came with daily rain, wind and thunder, always keeping us on our toes and reaching into our packs to take our rain layers on and off. 

From Frog Lake we walked over Frog Peak, gracing us with beautiful views into Big Flat Creek drainage and as far as Blodgett Peak. We continued to log out trail #906 to the abandoned Hidden Peak lookout tower, where we had lunch with yet another stunning mountain view. From the lookout tower down into the Hidden Lake drainage encroaching Lodgepole Pines and their fallen parents became rampant on trail #10 as we moved onward toward Hidden Lake. Forward progress slowed down as the trail became more and more dense with brush and fallen trees from a recent burn. We spent our 5th and 6th night at an old horse camp just off of trail #10 a few hundred yards after the junction of #10 and #9. 

As our time dwindled, we realized that clearing our entire loop was going to be impossible. We pushed forward to our next and final camp along trail #1 where the trail meets Big Sand Creek. After 3 unbearably hot and sunny days we were grateful to be able to swim in a cool pool in the creek near our camp. On our final day, we cleared and brushed what we could as we headed for the Bridge Creek trailhead.  The temptation of cold beverages and hot food pushed us forward the final few miles.

Hitch #3 - Devil’s Washbasin, Trail #19

Phoebe Mather

Wilderness Ranger Fellow

July 21-28

Bitterroot National Forest/Frank Church River of No Return Wilderness

Devil’s Washbasin, Trail #19

Hitch #3 wasn’t any ordinary hitch, unlike previous trips where our main goal is to clear the trail, the purpose of this hitch was the Devil’s Washbasin Blasting Project. Trail #19 is an existing trail in the Bitterroot National Forest, however, once over the first ridge it is a treacherous descent over slickrock back down into the valley. The task at hand? To blast the slickrock on the existing trail, then put in check steps and clean up remaining rocks to make it safer for stock to pass through.

The Forest Service has had this project planned for a while, and my Wilderness Fellow partner, Madi, and I were lucky enough to take part in the process as this is the last year explosives will be allowed to be used in Wilderness areas. There was the blasting crew lead by Karl Crittenden, along with Chris Murphy and Dave Maclay Schulte, all of whom are with the USFS. Then there was the trail crew, led by Jack Ader the Wilderness Ranger of the West Fork for the USFS, and then Madi and I. This hitch was truly dedicated to the packers, mules, and horses. All of the work we completed along the trail was to ensure safe travel for future excursions, though we did encounter a few surprises along the way.

The first 2 days we cleared down-trees and intrusive rocks to Arrow Creek, about 6 miles in from the trailhead. This is where we would meet the mules and set up camp. Madi and I cherished the luxury of having a pack supported trip. We only had to pack a day-pack each day for the 8 days of hitch, everything else was brought in for us. I even splurged and packed a big ol’ jar of Nutella. Wilderness glamping.

The blasting took place about 4-7 times daily. I must admit, it was a little nerve-wracking to know that we were carrying 40-60lbs of explosives on our back, up hill, for a mile. However, these modern explosives are incredibly safe if transported and used correctly, and there was not a moment on this hitch that I didn’t feel unsafe. Rocks were flying, and the echo from each blast traveled from the rock bowl we were working in all the way down into the valley and each drainage along the way. I thought the noise would end at the mountains in the distance, but the echo would just bounce off the walls and make its way back to us.

The lupine, indian paintbrush, and many butterflies and bumblebees were vibrant and lively throughout the trail, though the dust and mosquitos were also prevalent. The dust caked our hands, arms, and even up our pant legs, while we had squashed mosquitoes along our hairlines from wearing a protective helmet all day. The highlight of everyday was getting back to the ankle-deep creek at camp and either trying to lay down and roll around in all the water this small drainage had to offer, or to stand in the deepest part and fill up our empty nalgene bottles for a refreshing shower/scrub down.

Madi and I headed out further down the trail every evening before dinner time, heading to the base of the distant mountains, or turning onto the Goat Ridge Junction. We ate well, enjoyed the company of new friends, worked incredibly hard, blew up some bedrock, and were present for everything the Frank Church River of No Return Wilderness had to offer. Bugs and all.

Hitch #2 Dolph Creek, East Moose Clearing

Pete Chappell

Nez Perce-Clearwater Trail Crew Leader

July 7-15

Nez Perce-Clearwater National Forest

We started off Hitch #2 with a good ol' fashioned 13 hour workday, clearing trees and lugging our feather-light 70-pound packs to a beautiful Cedar Grove where we wearily set our camp up next to a raging East Moose Creek. Eager as we were at that moment to fall into a deep slumber, our immediate concern was to assemble a proper bear hang. However, the forest had other plans, and we spent a far too great and embarrassing sum of time throwing ropes tied to rocks at trees all in the name of keeping our food safe from the hungry bears. At last, we succeeded in our endeavor, finally crawling into our tents and drifting off to the sound of the creek tirelessly flowing by.

In the morning we were graciously awakened by the incredibly pleasant whine of mosquitoes in their ever-present quest to fly directly into our ears and eyes and drink our blood. And as our workday started, we were very quickly reminded that we were indeed back in the wilderness, by the soothing bite of the majestic horsefly on our backs and heads, as if to say, "You smell good and are not in any way covered in sweat and dirt and grime".

Our work propelled us through a dense cedar forest, with trees towering above us and trunks so wide they rivaled the great redwoods. We encountered two massive cedar trees that had fallen directly within the length of our trail. With tree trunks larger than the entire length of our five and a half foot crosscut saw. We saw no way of cutting through it and saving the existing trail. A trail re-route appeared to be in our future, so we dutifully went to work, building a brand new section of trail around the fallen giants. 

The next few days we pushed tirelessly forward, the sounds of our axes ringing across the canyon walls and our crosscut continually singing through fallen trees. We were set upon by increasing numbers of downed trees as we worked through hail, rain, blisters, and blazing heat. 

In some sections we lost the trail entirely, spending far too many minutes frustratingly poking around in the brush to find it. It was in these sections that we spotted a hungry mountain goat far off in the distance, balancing precariously on small footholds in the cliffside, a towering waterfall dropping off a cliff, spilling its contents into the East fork of Moose Creek, and the biggest bear scat I personally have ever seen. I'm glad the bears are getting their fill of other food apart from ours.

But alas, all good times come to an end and we had to leave our little East Moose Trail project for greener pastures. And by this, I of course mean a grueling 14-mile hike back to the end of our road, Elk Summit, where we had stashed our cars (and a bag of barbecue chips). Our trip had come to an end, but rest assured, the itch of hundreds of mosquito bites we had acquired in our 8 days here were just starting to begin.

But despite the aches and pains. Despite the rain, hail, and heat, the mosquitoes and horseflies, and blisters. The truth is, all of those things pale to the fact that I am lucky enough to have the opportunity to be out here, experiencing these things, taking in the scenery, swimming in the cold glacial water, and maintaining trails so that others may use them and experience these same things. If it means having the privilege to be out here, I would gladly experience all those aches and pains again.

Hitch #1 Beaver Creek

Carly Stinson

Wilderness Steward

June 23-July 1

Salmon-Challis NF

We worked up from the Beaver Creek trailhead through a large burn from 2012. We primarily focused on logout although we also cleared many drains along the way. Over the first three unseasonably warm days of our hitch we cleared trail #21 to the junction with trail #22. There were still large patches of snow on the North side of the saddle. We then cleared trail #22 along the ridge and down to the junction with trail #14. The trail is very out sloped here with long sections of side hilling.

Along trail #14 we encountered two jackstraws left by avalanches. We were able to clear these and down the trail to within a mile of the junction with the Fall Creek trail #20. Despite a couple days of late June snow we cleared many logs including 799 small trees.  

Ruffneck View -At

9407’ the Lookout on Ruffneck Peak provides views of Ruffneck Lake and Island Lake, with the Sawtooths and Whitecouds in the distance.

Avalanche_Debris: Large avalanches deposited piles of trees in the trail slowing our progress towards Fall Creek.

Avalanche_Cleared: Wilderness Steward Justine Bright stands in the freshly cleared trail.

Ascent to Joy!

Madison Murrill - Wilderness Ranger Fellow

Hitch #1 - Selway-Bitterroot Wilderness

June 23-30

Bitterroot National Forest

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

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

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

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

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

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

From Subway to Solitude

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

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

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

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

Artists in Residence fall in love with Fish Lake

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The quiet spaciousness at Fish Lake Guard Station.

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

It was a bumper crop of wildflowers.

Jonathan exposing a cyanotype using a cot as a support.

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

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

On top of Eagle Mountain.

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